Horror Stories - 4 Horrifying Facebook Marketplace Horror Stories 🛑 Real Disturbing Encounters You Won’t Believe

Episode Date: August 31, 2025

☕ Support the show, send your own horror stories, and help shape future episodes. 🎧 Join the darkness here: ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://buymeacoffee.com/horrorstoriesnetwork⁠⁠⁠⁠ [e-mail] Facebook Marketplace Horror Stories have become modern-day urban legends—and these 4 true tales are some of the most disturbing you'll ever hear. These are not just stories about bad deals; they’re chilling real-life encounters where a simple transaction turned into a nightmare. From creepy sellers to buyers with hidden agendas, these experiences reveal the dark side of online exchanges. If you’ve ever considered meeting a stranger for a deal, this is your warning. Lock your doors, turn down the lights, and get ready to be disturbed. You’ve been warned. #FacebookMarketplaceHorror #TrueScaryStories #HorrorCompilation #MarketplaceNightmares #DisturbingEncounters #CreepyOnlineStories #TrueHorrorTales #StoryTimeHorror #RealLifeHorror #OnlineDealsGoneWrong facebook marketplace horror stories, true facebook horror stories, disturbing marketplace encounters, facebook deals gone wrong, real marketplace horror stories, scary marketplace stories, facebook buyer horror, seller horror stories, online selling nightmares, marketplace true crime, creepy facebook storytime, disturbing storytime youtube, marketplace horror compilation, horror stories compilation, facebook marketplace gone wrong, buyer beware stories, facebook true crime, real online transaction horror, scary deal gone wrong, marketplace deal horror, meet up horror stories, true disturbing encounters, horror podcast stories, shocking real horror, marketplace creep story, marketplace killer stories, marketplace mystery tales, scary real-life stories, horrifying facebook experiences, marketplace safety warning, online selling gone wrong, chilling marketplace stories, horror audio compilation, facebook horror encounters, you won’t believe this story, horror story narration youtube Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Kayak, got that right. Hello, everyone. and welcome back to horror stories. I know many of you use these episodes to fall asleep, so before you drift off, I'd love it if you could leave a comment letting me know where you're listening from around the world. Also, don't forget to like and subscribe

if you're enjoying the episodes. Story one, I had been on a sort of personal mission to set up a proper study space for my eldest son. He had just started high school, and the homework load was already piling up. I thought that having a designated area with a desk and a chair would help him stay focused and organized. Between work deadlines and the chaos of raising two kids, finding furniture that fit my budget felt like an uphill battle. That's when I

decided to turn to Facebook Marketplace. I had used it before for small purchases, and although I had heard unsettling stories, I never imagined I'd end up starring in one. One night while browsing listings, I came across a beautiful oak desk. It had that classic start. I was looking for, and the price was absurdly low. The seller, a man named Todd, replied almost immediately after I sent a message. He seemed friendly, polite, straightforward, and very quick to respond. He explained that the desk was stored in a storage unit because he was downsizing to a smaller apartment.

Does tomorrow morning work for you? He asked. I hesitated for a moment. The idea of meeting someone at a storage facility made me feel uneasy, but the listing had photos and his profile seemed genuine. Plus, I really wanted that desk. I ignored the little voice in my head warning me and agreed. The next morning I arrived at the nearly deserted parking lot of a storage facility on the outskirts of town. Rows of identical units stretched in both directions, the metal doors gleaming under the pale winter sun. There was only one security camera at the

entrance and a maintenance worker in the distance. Todd showed up a few minutes later in an old blue pickup truck. He got out of the vehicle wearing a baseball cap and a flannel shirt. He greeted me and I tried not to overthink it. People aren't always in the best mood in the morning, I told myself. The desk is here, he said, pointing to a unit halfway down the row. He unlocked the padlock and lifted the metal door, revealing a dimly lit space full of furniture, boxes, and stacked tools. Looks like it's in good shape, I said peeking in. Can I come closer to take a look? Of course, he replied. It's in the back. Go ahead. I stopped at the entrance. Something inside me resisted stepping across that dark, narrow threshold. It made me uneasy. But he was there holding

the door open. What was I supposed to do? Turn around and look paranoid. Inside the air was thick. It smelled of dust and old wood. The desk was behind a stack of chairs. It's in excellent condition, Todd said as he stepped forward to move a few things aside to make it visible. He was right. It was beautiful. The dark oak was well polished, scratch-free, and the drawer slid smoothly. I was about to tell him I'd take it when I heard the creak of the metal door closing behind me. The sound echoed in the closed space and my whole body tensed. I turned and saw Todd calmly locking the padlock. Just so no one interrupts us, he said with a smile that didn't comfort me at all. Every cell in my body went on high alert. I forced to smile and took a step back,

trying to maintain some distance. I should check if the desk fits in my car. My husband's waiting outside, and he's better than I am at figuring out those things. Todd's expression shifted subtly. His smile faded for a split second before returning. I'm sure it'll fit, he replied, but I didn't see anyone in your car when I arrived. Are you sure he's outside? I felt the blood drained from my face. I couldn't believe he had noticed in such detail. Yes, I lied, keeping my voice as steady as possible.

He's probably just driving around. He hates sitting in the car. Todd squinted and crossed his arms. You seem a little tense. Everything okay? Everything's perfect, I replied forcing a laugh. These closed spaces just make me claustrophobic. Let's go outside so I can measure the desk.

Todd didn't move right away. He stared at me with an intensity that made my palm sweat. Finally, he shrugged and slowly took the key from the lock. Sure, he said, opening the door with a deliberate slowness. As soon as the door lifted, I ran straight to my car. I didn't care how it looked. I just needed to get out of there. Todd shouted something behind me, his tone authoritative, but I didn't look back.

Once inside the car with the doors locked, I grabbed my phone and called the police. Through the rearview mirror, I saw Todd returning to his truck, moving with total calm, as if he hadn't just locked me inside a storage unit. He left before the officers arrived, leaving me shaking and with my mind racing. The police took my statement and inspected the unit, but there wasn't much they could do. Technically, Todd hadn't committed a crime, although they agreed that his behavior had been highly suspicious. Next time meet in a public place, one of the officers advised, and never go into a closed space with someone you don't know. I felt foolish for putting myself in such a vulnerable situation, but I also felt angry, angry at Todd for making me feel unsafe and angry at myself for not listening to my instincts.

Luckily, I reacted in time and came up with the lie about my husband. I don't even want to imagine what could have happened if I hadn't. For weeks, I couldn't shake the image of his smile or the way he interrogated me about being alone. I stopped using Facebook Marketplace altogether. It wasn't worth taking those kinds of risks. Over time, I came to understand how lucky I was to get out of that unit unharmed. It's a lesson I'll never forget. No matter how harmless someone may seem, when you're alone you can never be too careful.

Story 2. I've been a carpenter for over 10 years, so I've accumulated a good number of tools, many of which I don't even use anymore. That's why I decided to list some of them for trade on Facebook marketplace. It's not that I couldn't sell them outright, but sometimes trades are more practical. Besides, I'd been looking for a decent lawnmower ever since mine completely stopped working. When a man named Rick messaged me offering his lawnmower in exchange for my high-power drill, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. The photos he sent showed a machine that looked almost brand new, much better than what I could have bought for the resale value of the drill.

Rick came across as polite in the messages, and we quickly came to an agreement. He suggested I come to his house to close the deal, saying he could show me how the machine worked in person. At the time, it seemed completely reasonable, so I agreed. He gave me an address about 25 minutes from my house in an area I didn't know well but that didn't have a bad reputation either. I thought, what could go wrong? That Saturday afternoon I got the drill ready along with some extra bits in case he wanted them, loaded them into my truck, and headed to the address Rick had provided.

The neighborhood looked quiet. Older houses, some kids playing in yards and lots of parked cars. Everything seemed normal. I pulled up to Rick's house. The lawn wasn't as well kept as the others on the street, and there was an old sedan parked oddly in the driveway. The house was in decent condition, but the blinds were shut tight and the porch light was on and brought daylight. Still, I didn't think much of it. Some people just have strange habits, right? Rick came out as soon as I parked. He looked just like his profile picture, a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard. He waved in motion for me to come closer to the entrance.

I didn't pull the truck all the way in, and luckily that turned out to be a good decision. Thanks for coming, Rick said in a friendly tone. The mower's out back. Want to take a look? Sure, I replied, grabbing the drill from the passenger seat. Rick led me along the side of the house to the backyard, where the lawnmower was sitting on a patch of dirt. It looked exactly like the photos, clean, shiny, and in excellent condition. Rick knelt down and began explaining how it worked, pulling the start cord to show that it started up fine. He even let me test it on a small patch of grass.

I was about to finalize the deal when I heard the sound of another vehicle approaching. I turned and saw an old truck pulling into the driveway, completely blocking my truck from leaving. A man I didn't recognize got out. He was taller and more heavyset than Rick, wearing a dirty tank top in jeans. Rick looked at him, then looked at me, and his friendly smile faded. That's my friend Pete, Rick said with forced casualness. Pete didn't say a word. He leaned against his truck with his arms crossed, watching us silently.

A wave of discomfort washed over me. Why did Rick need his friend present for such a simple exchange? Rick spoke again, his tone different. So, about the moor, how much do you think it's worth in cash? Well, I replied. Knew it's about $400, but we already agreed on the trade, remember? Rick scratched his neck with an overly innocent look. Yeah, but Pete and I were talking, and we thought it'd be better if you gave us the drill,

and let's say, $200 in cash. Sound fair? I felt a nod in my stomach. I don't have that kind of money on me, I said firmly. We made a deal, and I brought the drill to trade for the mower. Pete pushed off his truck and stepped toward me. You're sure about that, buddy. You've got a pretty nice truck.

I bet your wallet's in there. And that's when I understood everything. This wasn't a misunderstanding or a poorly negotiated deal. It was a setup. I looked at my truck now blocked in by Pete's and tried to think fast. If these guys were planning to rob me. Or worse, I had to get out of there immediately. I'll tell you what.

I said with a force smile. Let me check the truck. Maybe I've got some cash lying around. Rick and Pete exchanged a glance. Then they nodded. I turned and started walking toward the front of the house, almost running. When I reached my truck, I didn't hesitate for a second.

I jumped in, slammed the door shut, and hit the lock button. Rick and Pete realized what was happening and ran toward me. Pete was closer, but I didn't give him a chance. I started the engine and hit the gas, the tires screeching as they rolled over the grass. Pete pounded on the side of the truck yelling something I couldn't hear over the roar of the engine. I didn't care. I yanked the wheel hard, pulled onto the street, and floored it. My heart was pounding, but I didn't stop until I was several blocks away.

When I finally felt safe, I pulled into a Walmart parking lot and called the police. The operator was very professional and calm. She took all the details. details. Rick's address, descriptions of both men, and everything that had happened. She assured me an officer would be sent to investigate. A few days later, I got a call from the police. They had gone to Rick's house and found him there. When questioned, Rick claimed that I had changed my mind at the last minute and backed out of the deal, trying to paint himself as the reasonable one. But the officers didn't buy his version. It turned out Rick had already been reported in several similar cases of suspicious trades on Facebook marketplace. He had a pattern, luring people to his

house under the pretense of a sale or trade, and then things would take a strange turn. This wasn't just a misunderstanding or a miscommunication. Rick was hunting for victims, and I came dangerously close to becoming one. Although it was a relief to know the police were on his trail, I couldn't stop thinking about how badly it could have ended if I hadn't acted fast. I'm much more cautious with these kinds of platforms now. I never do trades at people's homes anymore, and I always bring someone with me. If a trade can't happen in a public place, I just don't do it. That supposed lawnmower deal could have cost me a lot more than a few hundred dollars.

It could have cost me my safety. And that's a lesson I'll never forget. Story three. Every now and then, I like to declutter and free up space from things I no longer need. my home office was overflowing with bookshelves, filing cabinets, and all kinds of furniture that no longer brought me any satisfaction. That's why I decided it was time to let go of an old wooden shelf that had just been collecting dust. It wasn't anything special, just a used but sturdy piece I had bought years ago. I figured Facebook Marketplace would be the quickest way to get rid of it, so I snapped a few photos, wrote a simple description, and posted it.

Within hours I received a message. The man named Kevin seemed friendly enough. He asked if the shelf was still available, and if he could come by to pick it up that same night. His profile photo showed a middle-aged man with glasses and a warm smile. He looked harmless, and since I had never had a bad experience selling things online, I gave him my address without thinking twice.

Kevin showed up right on time. He was driving an old truck and parked in my driveway. He came across his friendly, chatting about how he was redecorating his study and how the shelf was perfect for his growing novel collection. I helped him loaded into his truck, and he thanked me enthusiastically before driving off. It seemed like a simple transaction, but I was wrong. A week later, I was folding a laundry in the living room when I noticed a familiar truck slowing down as it passed my house. It wasn't unusual for cars to drive slowly on our street. There were often kids playing outside or neighbors walking their dogs, but there was something

about the way this vehicle paused that caught my attention. It was Kevin's truck. Still, it didn't stop. It just kept going. I brushed it off as a coincidence. Maybe he lived nearby, I thought. But in the following days, I began seeing that same vehicle more frequently. It would pass by in the mornings while I was getting ready for work, and again in the afternoons when I was watering the plants. It felt intentional, though I kept trying to convince myself otherwise. By Friday night, things escalated. I had just finished dinner and settled onto the couch with a book when I heard a knock at the door. I wasn't expecting anyone, so I hesitated before approaching.

I peeked through the peephole and my stomach dropped. It was Kevin. I opened the door just a crack, enough to see his face, but not enough for him to push through if he tried. Hi, Kevin. What can I do for you? I asked in a neutral tone. He smiled, but his eyes stayed cold. I was just in the neighborhood, he said.

Thought I'd stop by. That shelf I bought from you is great. I was wondering if you had any other furniture for sale. His words sounded light, but there was a hidden tension in his voice that made me uneasy. No, I don't have anything else, I replied quickly. I was only selling the shelf. I'm glad you liked it.

But he didn't leave. His smile faded and his expression hardened. Come on, you've got a big house. I'm sure there's more stuff you don't need. My heart began to race. I really don't have anything else, I said, this time more firmly. Sorry, Kevin, but I'm not selling anything else. He stared at me for a few seconds.

Then without another word, he turned around and walked back to his truck. I locked the door as soon as he left and stood there trying to process what had just happened. Why had he come back? And why did I feel like this wouldn't be the last time? The next morning when I looked out the window, I saw Kevin's truck parked across the street. I didn't see him inside, or at least not from my angle, but just the presence of the vehicle sent a wave of anxiety through my chest.

I decided to go about my day, hoping he would leave. But the truck stayed there for hours. That night, as I was cleaning the kitchen after dinner, I heard a loud knock at the door. My stomach sank. Again? This time, Kevin wasn't polite. He was banging hard, shouting something I couldn't quite understand.

Open up, he yelled. I know you're in there. I grabbed my phone and backed away, dialing 911 as fast as I could. While I explained the situation to the operator, Kevin's tone became even more aggressive. He was demanding to see more furniture, insisting that I had to be hiding something valuable inside. I've already called the police, I shouted through the door, pretending to be braver than I felt. You need to leave. There was a brief silence, and then I heard him muttering something before returning to his truck.

But he didn't drive off. He stayed there, engine running, while I waited anxiously for the officers to arrive. The police showed up about ten minutes later. Kevin was still parked in front of my house. They approached his vehicle, spoke with him briefly, and then escorted him away. One of the officers came to my door to take my statement. Do you know this man? he asked. I sold him a bookshelf on Facebook Marketplace about a week ago, I explained.

At first he seemed normal, but since then he's been showing up uninvited and acting aggressively. The officer nodded as he took notes. We'll file a report and issue a trespass warning. If he comes back, call us immediately. Even though Kevin was gone, I didn't feel safe. I spent the rest of the night double-checking the locks and closing every curtain. In the days that followed, I couldn't relax. Every time a car passed by my house, my chest tightened.

Two nights later, he returned. This time, Kevin was clearly drunk. The sound of his truck screeching to a stop echoed outside my home, and I watched as he stumbled out, shouting incoherently and banging on my front door. I could barely make out what he was saying, but he seemed to be demanding to come inside and accusing me of hiding things he claimed I still owed him. His movements were erratic, his speech slurred by alcohol. My hands were shaking as I called the police again, trying to stay calm.

He was so out of control he didn't even notice when the officers arrived. Two patrol cars pulled up quietly, and the officers approached quickly. He only realized what was happening when they grabbed his arms and began restraining him. He started shouting and resisting, but there was nothing he could. could do against them. They handcuffed him and placed him in the patrol car while his angry voice faded away. One of the officers knocked on my door to inform me they had arrested him. We're charging him with trespassing and disturbing the peace, he said. He's clearly under the influence. He'll be held overnight. If you want to press charges, we'll support you. I thanked the officer,

but even though Kevin was gone, my nerves were completely shattered. I spent the rest of the night awake, pacing around the house, thinking about what might have happened if the police hadn't arrived in time, or if Kevin had managed to get inside. Looking back, I realized how reckless I had been in giving my address to a stranger. It's easy to believe nothing bad will happen, until it does. Since then, I only meet buyers in public places designated for online exchanges, and I never allow anyone to come to my home to pick something up. That shelf was just an old piece of furniture, richer to me, but for Kevin it became the perfect excuse to invade my space and violate my peace of mind. And even though the officers assured me he wouldn't come back, I still peek out the window every time

someone knocks. Just to be sure. Story four, I've always been a sucker for a good deal. After surviving countless late-night marathons and binge-watching sessions, my flat-screen TV finally gave out. Naturally, I turned to Facebook Marketplace to find a replacement. I'd already gotten my gaming chair my desk and even the quirky neon lamp in my living room from there. So when I saw a 60-inch smart TV for just $200, I didn't think twice. I sent a message. The seller's name was Tommy. His profile picture showed a smiling man holding a dog, and the listing sounded legit.

Lightly used, works perfectly just upgrading to a bigger screen. He replied quickly, confirming it was still available. and offering to finalize the sale the next day. Can I come to your place to pick it up? I asked, thinking it would be easier than coordinating in some random parking lot. Sure, he said, sending me an address. Come by around 5 p.m. The next day I typed the address into my GPS and headed out.

It was about 20 minutes from my apartment in an area with a mix of older suburban homes and commercial lots. But as I turned onto the street, I started noticing something strange. Many houses were run down with boarded up windows and overgrown yards. The address Tommy had sent me led directly to one of the most neglected houses on the block. It looked abandoned. The windows were sealed with wooden planks, and the front yard was full of trash. Old tires, broken furniture and weeds tall enough to reach my knees if I walked through them. I slowed down frowning at the crookedly painted number on the mailbox.

This can't be right, I muttered. but it matched the address he'd given me. I parked by the curb and left the engine running. My first instinct was to drive away immediately, but I forced myself not to judge too quickly. Maybe Tommy was renting the place and hadn't had time to fix it up. Still, I couldn't shake the growing discomfort. I decided to send him a message.

Hey, I'm here. The house looks empty. No response. After a few minutes of sitting there feeling like an idiot, I figured maybe he hadn't seen the message. So I gathered some courage, grab my phone and wallet, and got out of the car. The neighborhood was eerily quiet as I approached the house. A foul musty smell hit me, and I wrinkled my nose. There were no cars in the driveways, no kids playing, not even the distant sound of traffic.

It was like this corner of the world had gone silent. When I reached the porch, I hesitated. The planks covering the windows had just enough space between them to see the darkness inside. I knocked on the door. No response. I knocked again, harder this time. Tommy. Silence.

I was about to turn around when I heard a sound. A soft dragging noise coming from the side of the house. My heart started pounding, but I tried to stay calm. Maybe Tommy was in the backyard and hadn't heard me. Tommy, I called out. stepping off the porch and walking around the side of the house. I froze. Just a few feet away stood two men.

One was tall and thin, wearing a hoodie that obscured part of his face. The other was shorter and stockier, with his arms crossed over a stained t-shirt. Neither of them looked anything like the smiling man from Tommy's profile picture. Hey, I said cautiously. I came for the TV. The tall one smirked and looked over at his buddy. Yeah, the TV. It's inside. Come on in. Something in his tone made my skin crawl.

It wasn't friendly. It was mocking. I'd rather wait out here, I replied, taking a step back. The shorter man stepped forward, blocking my exit. No, man, you've got to come inside if you want to see it. It's a great deal, right? The alarms in my head were blaring. My eyes scanned for an escape route. I think I'm going to pass.

said trying to sound firm. Sorry for wasting your time. Before I could move, the tall guy grabbed my arm. You're already here, he said, tightening his grip. A wave of panic searched through me. I yanked my arm free and bolted toward my car. I heard them shout behind me. Grab him. I dove into the driver's seat, slammed the door shut, and hit the lock just as the tall guy tried to open it. Without thinking, I started the engine and floored it, tires screeching as I sped down the street. In the rearview mirror, I saw them standing in the middle of the road, watching as I disappeared. Once I was far enough away, I pulled over and called the police. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely dial. The dispatcher listened calmly as I explained what had happened and promised to send a patrol car to the

address. When I got home, I was completely shaken. I couldn't stop replaying everything that just happened. A few days later, the police called me. They had gone to the house, but no one was there. The place was in fact abandoned. There was no trace of any Tommy. They suspected the men were using fake profiles to lure people to remote, low-traffic locations. The reality hit me hard. They'd probably done it before, and who knows how many people hadn't been as lucky as I was. Since then, whenever I use Facebook Marketplace, I insist on meeting in public places and always during the day. No TV is worth risking your life. If these Facebook Marketplace horror stories made you rethink your own safety habits,

hit like on this episode and subscribe for more real-life stories that will send chills down your spine. What would you do if you found yourself in a situation like this? Let's talk in the comments. I'd love to hear your safety strategies. Share this episode with your friends and remind them to stay vigilant when buying or selling online. Thanks for watching and see you in the next nightmare.