Horror Stories - 4 Terrifying OUT OF GAS Horror Stories That Ended in Nightmares

Episode Date: December 16, 2025

Stranded in the Dark With No Escape — 4 Terrifying OUT OF GAS Horror Stories takes you into some of the most frightening moments drivers have ever experienced. Running out of gas is stressful enough—but when it happens in isolated areas, late at night, or far from help, it can quickly turn into a nightmare. These true horror stories come from people who found themselves stranded, vulnerable, and facing terrifying encounters they never expected. Narrated in a calm, immersive style, each story slowly builds tension while pulling you deeper into the fear of being alone on the road with nowhere to go. Listen carefully… these situations happen more often than you think. #TrueHorrorStories #OutOfGas #ScaryStories #RealHorror #CreepyStories #NightHorror #RoadTripHorror #StrandedStories #StorytimeHorror #TerrifyingEncounters 4 terrifying out of gas horror stories, out of gas horror stories, stranded horror stories, true road horror stories, real life scary encounters, creepy roadside stories, nighttime driving horror, true scary driving stories, stranded at night horror, real horror narration, calm horror storytelling, storytime horror video, sleep horror stories, true encounters on the road, disturbing true stories, car breakdown horror, empty gas tank horror stories, terrifying roadside encounters, night drive gone wrong, true survival horror stories, unsettling real stories, creepy night stories, horror podcast narration, real life nightmares, psychological horror stories, stranded with no help stories, dark road horror stories, true scary experiences, immersive horror narration, scary listening stories, real danger stories, road trip nightmares, horror stories based on true events Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Story one, I hadn't planned on staying at the office that late. As a woman who lives a 45-minute drive from work, I've never liked extending my workday, especially knowing I'd have to drive alone at night, but work has that habit of piling up when you least expect it. It was supposed to be a simple trip home like any other. I didn't think much of it when I got into the car, ready to switch off. It wasn't until I found myself on a long, empty road,

with not a soul in sight, much later than the time I had expected to already be home, that I noticed the fuel gauge trembling on the edge of E. That's when I realized my mistake. Why didn't I check the gas before leaving? In front of me, the road stretched on endlessly, with a dense forest pressed up on both sides. I knew there wouldn't be a gas station for miles,

and that my chances of running out of fuel were rising by the minute. The darkness was closing in. The headlights were my only source of light while the radio crackled with static. I reached out to adjust the dial, desperate for a bit of background noise, something to make the loneliness feel less suffocating. But no matter how much I fiddled with the controls, the radio stayed silent, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the faint hum of the engine.

And then as if it had been scripted, the car gave a violent jolt. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, praying it wouldn't turn off, but it was useless. The engine coughed once twice and died completely. The inertia carried me a few more yards until I rolled to a stop on the shoulder. The silence now without the engine became a bit more. even more oppressive. Great, I muttered, leaning back in the seat. This was not how I had imagined ending the night, stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no cell signal, no gas, and no one around who could help. I fumbled for my phone and looked at the screen. No bars, of course. I stayed there

for a while, debating my next move. I could start walking, but the road was completely dark, and I might have to walk miles before finding a gas station. Besides, what if someone drove by while I was gone? I didn't want to leave the car on its own. So I waited, clinging to the faint hope that another vehicle would appear. It had to happen, right? Technically, it was still a main road, even if it didn't look like it. The minutes stretched on.

Just me and the distant chirping of crickets. I checked the rearview mirror. Nothing. I squinted into the darkness ahead, still nothing. Just when I was about to give up and resign myself to a long, uncomfortable night, a flash of light caught my attention. Headlights. My heart leapt with relief as a car appeared in the distance.

Its lights growing larger as it approached. I managed to make out the silhouette of an old model sedan with faded peeling paint. I leaned forward, watching as it slowed down and stopped a few feet behind mine. A wave of relief washed over me. Finally, someone had stopped to help. The driver's door opened and a man got out. He was tall. His steps were slow as he walked toward me.

For a moment a strange discomfort tightened in my chest, but I pushed it aside. I needed help. I lowered the window just a crack, enough to hear him but not enough to give him access to the inside. Hi, thank you for stopping, I said. I ran out of gas and my phone doesn't have a signal. The man stopped next to the window. His smile seemed friendly enough. No problem, he replied in a deep voice.

I can take you to the nearest gas station. I hesitated. There was something in the way he said it, an excess of enthusiasm and insistence I didn't like. It's okay, I replied trying to sound casual. I think I'll just wait here and flag someone down. I don't want to leave the car. His smile faded, replaced by a look of annoyance.

No one is going to come by at this hour, he said. Come on, I'll take you. It's not far. There it was again, that insistence. I forced myself to stay calm. I really appreciate it, but I'd rather wait, I said. His expression darkened, his tone hardened. It's not safe for you to be here, he stated.

You should come with me. My instincts were screaming at me to keep the window up, to not leave him. many opening. I looked around praying to see another pair of headlights, some sign of life, but there was nothing, just me and this man. I'll be fine, I said this time more firmly. Thank you for stopping. For a moment he didn't move. He just stood there, staring at me with a calculated coldness in his eyes. I felt my heart hammering in my chest, and suddenly, without warning, he reached for the door handle. I reacted on pure reflex, pressing the lock button just as his fingers touched the metal. The click of the locks

engaging seemed to snap something inside him, and he slammed his hand against the window hard enough to make the glass vibrate. Open the door, he demanded in a low, threatening voice. I'm trying to help you. I shook my head, leaning away from the crack in the window. My hands were trembling as I fumbled for my phone again. Still no signal. Go away, I screamed. but he didn't leave. He started walking around the car drumming his fingers on the windows as he moved. His breath fogged up the glass. I could hear him muttering something under his breath, though I couldn't make out the words. I shrank down in the seat begging for another car to pass, for someone to show up, or for him to get bored and leave. But no, he kept circling, letting his fingers slide along the windows. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to think.

What could I do? I couldn't just stay there, but I couldn't get out either. I was trapped and he knew it. That was what he wanted. He was enjoying it, seeing me scared, seeing me helpless. And then, as if the universe had heard my desperate plea, headlights appeared in the distance. At first they were just a tiny point of light on the horizon, but they grew larger, coming closer and closer. I turned to my seat, craning my neck to the distance. I turned to my seat, craning my neck to the distance. I was just a tiny point of light on the horizon. I was just a little bit of the horizon. I was just. I was at the distance. I was at the see. He saw them too. He stopped circling the car. For a second I thought he might try to stop the other vehicle, flag it down, but instead he stood still. His expression shifted from anger to something more cautious. The other car was close now, its headlights flooding the road, and the man took a step back. Then another. And just like that, he turned around and hurried back to his sedan. He slammed the door shut in within seconds, sped off down the road. The other car slowed as it reached me. The driver rolled down the window to ask if I needed help. It was a family. I nodded, still too shaken to speak. They shared their data connection with me from their phone so I could

call a tow truck. Sitting there, waiting for the toe, I couldn't stop staring at the road, convinced that the man's car would reappear. But it didn't. He was gone, and I was gone. And I I was safe. Years have passed since that night, but I haven't forgotten that man's gaze or the way he circled my car as if I were his prey. Since then, I've never run out of gas again. I make sure to keep the tank full before going anywhere, and I keep the doors locked even in broad daylight. Story two. We had been driving for hours, heading back home after a week of vacation in another state. The car was steeped in that typical end-of-trip exhaustion, and we just wanted to get back. But the miles stretched out into infinity.

The sun had already slipped behind the horizon, leaving only a thin orange line over the distant hills. Darkness swallowed the road, and our only company was the occasional headlights of cars passing in the opposite direction. It was unsettling how quiet everything became once night fell. I had planned to stop for gas before it got too late, but sometimes. Somehow we lost track of time. The GPS showed that the next gas station was 30 miles away, and the fuel gauge was already brushing dangerously close to the red zone. We were in the middle of nowhere,

the kind of highway stretch that seems to never end, with no signs of life, just empty fields and long rows of trees. Diana, my girlfriend, was in the passenger seat staring out the window. We'll make it, right? She asked a hint of worry in her voice. Yeah, we should be fine. I replied trying to sound confident, though I wasn't.

The needle had already dropped into the red. Even so, ten minutes later, the car coughed and began to lose speed. We were out of gas. I pulled over and stared at the dashboard, as if I could somehow force the engine to keep going. It was absolute darkness, the kind where you can't even see your own hand in front of your face. We're out of fuel, I said, trying to stay calm. Diana let out a sigh and pulled out her phone. Let's call someone.

I reached for mine, but there was no signal. She checked hers again. Same thing, no service. We stayed inside for a while, weighing our options. We could wait and hope someone would stop or try walking, but the GPS showed the gas station was still 25 miles away, and walking along the highway at night didn't seem safe at all. Then I saw something a little farther ahead off the side of the side of the car.

the road. An old run-down rest area, the kind you barely noticed during the day and avoid at night. It looked abandoned, but it was our best chance to wait until morning or with luck, get some signal. Let's push, I suggested. We'll move the car over to the rest area and spend the night inside. Diana wasn't thrilled with the idea, but without any alternative, we got out and started pushing. The car was heavy and the nighttime cold didn't help, but we managed to get it to the abandoned rest area. Up close, the place looked even worse, cracked windows peeling paint on the walls, and the few lights that were on flickered erratically. It looked like something straight out of a horror movie. This place gives me a bad feeling, Diana murmured shivering as she pulled her jacket tighter.

It's just for tonight, I reassured her, though I wasn't entirely convinced myself. We locked ourselves inside the car, trying to get comfortable enough to make it through the night. It wasn't comfortable, but at least we were sheltered from the cold. The car felt like a fragile cocoon against the vast emptiness outside. I kept telling myself that we were safe inside, but there was something disturbing about that absolute isolation. The rest area sat a short distance away, dark and menacing, while we huddled together, not knowing what the night would bring. Hours passed and neither of us managed to fall asleep. The windows fogged up with our breath blocking our view. I wiped a small circle on the glass to peek outside, but it didn't help much, just darkness and the barely visible

outline of the building. Then suddenly a sound, at first faint but unmistakable. Footsteps. Too close. I shot a glance at Diana. Did you hear that? She nodded, her eyes wide. There's someone out there. We froze listening. The footsteps began to move around the car. My heart pounded in my chest. I strained my eyes, but the windows were still fogged over. The feeling of being blind to whatever was happening around us was suffocating. The footsteps stopped near the back, and the rear door handle rattled.

Someone was trying to get in. Diana stifled a scream and grabbed my arm. What do we do? Check the locks, I whispered. even though I knew they were already locked. Even so, my fingers groped for the button to double check. The handle moved again, this time more forcefully, as if whoever was outside were testing each door, searching for a weak spot.

I grabbed my phone and desperately tried to get a signal, but nothing. We were completely cut off. Then the car started to shake. Whoever was out there wasn't just trying to get in. They wanted to scare us. There's more than one, Diana whispered. I can hear them. I strained my ears and yes, now there were more footsteps.

At least two, maybe three. They moved around the car whispering to each other, though I couldn't make out what they were saying. We have to get out of here, I said, even though I knew we couldn't. But it was impossible. The area was abandoned. The highway was deserted. And we had no way to call for help.

The car shook again, this time more violently. The vehicle tilted as if someone had thrown themselves against it. They're trying to flip it, I managed to say, panic tightening my voice. Diana gripped my arm even harder. I could feel her nails digging into my skin. What did they want? I had no answer. All I could do was sit there helpless while the car rocked.

The air filled with footsteps and low murmurs. The fogged up windows kept us from seeing how many there were or what they were planning. And then a loud hiss. The car tilted again, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of air escaping from the tires. They're deflating the tires, I said, my voice shaking. We're trapped. Diana's eyes flooded with terror, and I felt my own fear rising to the surface. We were easy targets, completely at the mercy of whoever was outside.

call 911, I said urgently. Try again. Diana fumbled with the phone, her hands trembling as she dialed. She finally managed to place an emergency call. I heard her whisper frantically to the operator, explaining where we were and what was happening. I didn't take my eyes off the windows, waiting for the next blow. The car kept swaying and the tires were now completely flat.

After what felt like an eternity, Diana hung up. They're sending someone, she whispered, but it's going to take a while. The footsteps made another round around the car and then stopped. The silence that followed was almost worse than the noise. It felt like they were waiting for something, either for us to move or for the police to arrive. The minutes dripped by painfully slowly. Finally, the sound of sirens cut through the stillness. In the distance, red and blue lights flickered, and I could see the shadows.

of our tormentors retreating, disappearing into the darkness. The patrol car pulled up beside us and an officer stepped out, shining his flashlight around. Are you two okay? he asked, his voice calm but concerned. We told him what had happened while he inspected the car, sweeping the beam of light over the windows and the tires. Look at this, he said, motioning for us to get out. Reluctantly, we opened the door and stepped out. That's when I saw it. Handprints, dozens of them, marked on the fogged up windows all over the vehicle. Whoever had been out there had pressed their palms against the glass watching us the entire time. You did the right thing staying inside the car, the officer said, shaking his head.

I've seen things like this happen on these back roads. You two were lucky. Lucky. The word felt hollow as I stared at the handprints. The tow truck arrived shortly after. and we got out of there as fast as we could. But the memory of those unseen figures, watching us, shaking the car and deflating the tires, stuck with me. Since then, every time I drive through a remote area, I make sure the tank is full, because the last thing I want is to end up stranded again, alone in the dark. Story 3. I've taken a lot of road trips, and I've run into more than one setback.

Flat tires, engine trouble, and getting lost in the middle of nowhere. but running out of gas on a deserted highway at night. That one took the prize. I always swore I'd never be one of those people who ignore the gaslight until it's too late. And yet there I was, stranded, with no gas station for miles around, and no signal on my phone to call for help. I was driving back from visiting a friend in a small town a few hours away. It was supposed to be an easy trip.

I left in the mid-afternoon thinking I'd get home by dog. But I miscalculated how long it would take, and before I knew it, the sun was sinking quickly behind the hills, and the road stretched out in front of me, long and black, disappearing into nothing. The highway was deserted except for the occasional distant glimmer of other cars' headlights. When the gaslight came on, I knew I was in trouble. I hadn't seen a station in a while, and the last one I remembered was at least thirty minutes back. I tried to stay calm, hoping to make it to the next town or at least a rest area.

But the car had other plans. The engine started to cough. The vehicle lost power, and I let it roll until it came to a stop on the shoulder. Great, I muttered staring into the darkness. Perfect. I pulled out my phone praying for at least one tiny bar of signal, but it was useless. Zero bars, no trace of Wi-Fi. I was truly a in the middle of nowhere. I could walk, sure, but who knew how far away the next gas station was? Besides, I didn't have a gas can. Even if I found one, I'd have no way to bring fuel back. Staying in the car seemed just as risky. What if no one drove by? What if someone did? Just as the weight of the situation started to really sink in, I saw headlights approaching in

the rearview mirror. I held my breath, wondering if the driver would stop or just keep going. With the luck I'd been having, I wasn't expecting much. To my surprise, the vehicle slowed as it reached me. It was an old dusty pickup truck. The driver rolled down his window. A middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and a cap looked at me from inside. He sounded friendly, but there was something in the gleam of his eyes, framed by the dashboard light that made me uneasy.

Ran out of gas, huh? He chuckled, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Yeah, I admitted, forcing a smile. I wasn't paying attention, I guess. Happens to all of us. Lucky for you, I'm headed to the gas station a few miles up. I can give you a ride if you want. No sense walking out here.

I hesitated for a second. Something felt off. Maybe the constant smile like he knew something I didn't. Maybe the sense of isolation. The vast emptiness of the highway making me feel exposed. but what choice did I have? There wasn't exactly a line of cars waiting to rescue me, and walking sounded worse.

I checked my phone again. No signal. I looked at him, weighing my options. Okay, I finally agreed. That would really help. He smiled wider, his teeth glinting in the dashboard light. Hop in. I grabbed my wallet and my phone, locked my car,

and got into the passenger seat of the pickup. Inside it smelled faintly of cigarettes. The seat covers were worn and stained. He didn't seem bothered by my hesitation. He started the engine and pulled back onto the road. Where you headed? He asked, glancing over at me. Home, I answered shortly.

I went to see a friend out of town. Nice, nice. Not much out this way, he said. You picked a real quiet stretch to run out of gas. Yeah, I've noticed. I tried to keep my tone light. We drove in silence for a few minutes, the pickup rattling along the empty road.

The farther we went, the more my internal alarms went off. The man wasn't actually doing anything overtly wrong. He hadn't said or done anything explicitly threatening. But his composure, there was an excessive ease in the situation that I just couldn't shake. You said the gas station was up ahead, right? I asked. There was nothing but trees.

and darkness, no signs, no buildings. Yeah, he said, just a few miles more. But instead of continuing on the highway, he suddenly turned onto a smaller road, one that twisted through a dense forest. My stomach clenched. Where are we going? I asked, trying to hide the edge in my voice. This weighs faster, he said casually, waving a hand as if it were nothing. Trust me, we'll be there in no time. The farther we drove, the worse it got. The road was barely a road at all, more like a dirt track cutting through the trees. The headlights only lit up a small patch ahead. I felt panic clawing its way up my chest. Look, I really appreciate the help, I said, my voice firmer now, but I'd rather go back to the main highway. I'll wait for another car. He didn't respond right

away. He pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator. Hey, I said my heart now pounding. I said I want to get out. Without a word, he reached over and hit the door lock. In that moment, I knew he wasn't a good Samaritan. I had gotten into a vehicle with someone who had no intention of taking me to any gas station. I looked around desperately searching for a way out. The pickup started to slow as we approached a stop sign, the first we'd seen in miles. I had no idea where we were, but I knew this was my chance, probably my only one. And luckily, the door handle still opened from the inside even with the lock on. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, I grabbed the handle and yanked it hard.

He shouted something angry, but I didn't stick around to listen. I jumped out of the truck, hit the ground hard, and rolled across the dirt. My legs were shaking as I scrambled to my feet and took it. off running down the road. Behind me I heard the squeal of tires as he tried to turn around, but I didn't look back. I just ran as fast as I could. The trees blurred past me and the road felt endless, but I kept going. I couldn't stop. At last I saw headlights in the distance. A car was coming down the same road. I waved my arms frantically and the driver slowed down, rolling down the window. Please, I panted out of breath. I need howlop. I need howlop.

The driver, an older man with a worried expression, nodded and unlocked the door. I climbed into the passenger seat still shaking. What happened? He asked as he put the car in gear and checked the rearview mirror. I ran out of gas, I managed to say as I caught my breath. A guy offered to help me, but then he wouldn't let me get out of his truck. The man's face hardened. And where is he now?

I looked out the back window, no sign of the pickup. I don't know. That driver took me to the nearest gas station, where I finally had signal and called the police. They said they'd keep an eye out for the truck, but I never heard anything else. To this day, I don't know who that man was or what he intended, but I'm grateful I managed to escape in time. And I learned a valuable lesson. Never trust a stranger on a dark, empty road. Story 4.

It's funny. You don't really think much about running out of gas. until it happens to you. I've always been the type to stretch the tank a bit further, betting that I'll make it to the next gas station before the needle kisses empty. Almost every time I win, but that night I lost, and big time. It had been a long day. I was driving back from a work trip,

desperately wanting to get home and sleep in my own bed. The route was mostly back roads, fields, forests, and occasionally a small town scattered along the roadside. In a way, it was peaceful, the kind of drive where you can get lost in your thoughts and enjoy the quiet. But the farther I went, the more obvious it became that I hadn't seen a gas station for a long time. I glanced down at the dashboard. The fuel gauge was dangerously close to empty, and the low fuel light blinked almost mockingly. There hadn't been any road signs for miles, and I didn't have a good reception to search for the nearest station.

Bad news, I said out loud. I eased off the gas to save what I could, but it didn't take long for the inevitable to happen. The car coughed, sputtered, and finally died, gliding to a stop on the shoulder. I let out a frustrated sigh and rested my forehead on the steering wheel for a moment. Why didn't you stop earlier, idiot? I scolded myself. Knowing perfectly well I should have filled up in the last little town I passed. But hindsight is always 20-20. I leaned back in the seat and pulled out my phone.

to see if I had a signal. Of course not. Typical. I wasn't planning on spending the whole night in the car waiting for someone to drive by. The odds didn't seem to be in my favor. I vaguely remembered having passed a gas station a few miles back, or at least I thought I had. At night, everything blurs into the same landscape. With no other choice, I decided to walk. I grabbed my jacket from the back seat, put it on, and got out of the car. The night air was cold, biting at my skin, and the silence was unsettling. It wasn't a peaceful silence, but the kind that makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. I locked the car and started walking. My boots crunched on the gravel at the edge of the road. My only light was the flashlight, barely carving a tunnel through the darkness.

On both sides, the forest flanked the road, and at times I felt like something was watching me. I shook my head. Nerves, I told myself. There was no one out there but me. Or so I thought. I hadn't been walking for even ten minutes when I heard footsteps behind me, as if someone were trying to match my pace. I stopped dead, whipping around and shining the flashlight up the road.

Nothing. Just the black strip of asphalt and the shadows of the trees. I told myself I was being paranoid and kept going. The footsteps came again. I stopped once more, snapping the light around. That's when I saw him. He was right at the edge of the forest, barely visible. I almost missed him, blended in with the shadows.

He was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. His hair was wild and matted, like he hadn't seen a shower in weeks. He headed to the gas station, he asked in a rough voice. I was still processing the fact that this guy had appeared out of nowhere. I hadn't heard him approach, hadn't seen him behind. me. It was like he had just materialized. Yeah, I managed to say. I ran out of gas. He smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile, more like the expression of a predator right before it pounces on its prey. Me too, he said, taking a step forward. Mind if I go with you? Something in his tone set off every

alarm in my body. I didn't want him walking beside me. I didn't want him anywhere near me. But I also didn't know how to say no without making things worse, or more tense. Sure, I replied. He matched my pace and we walked in silence for a few minutes. The farther we went, the stronger my unease grew. He didn't talk. He just walked next to me, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Every now and then he'd glance at me from the side, and I could feel his gaze linger a second longer than normal. So, he finally said, breaking the silence, what brings you out here? Work trip, I answered, just trying to get back home. He didn't really seem to be listening.

He gave off a weird feeling, something that made me uncomfortable. I couldn't put it into words, but I knew for sure that I needed to get away from him as soon as possible. We kept walking in silence for a long stretch. The gas station still wasn't in sight. I checked my phone hoping for at least one bar of signal. Nothing. I was on my own. Then he spoke again in a low casual tone like we were old friends.

Have you ever thought about disappearing? I looked at him. What did you say? A strange smile curled on his face. You know, just taking off, starting over. No one knows where you are. No one's looking for you. I kept quiet.

my mind racing. Why was he bringing this up? Was he trying to scare me or was there something more? You could do it, he went on calm. You head into the woods and no one would ever find you. I swallowed hard and quicken my pace. I'll pass. I'm good, thanks. He didn't say anything after that, but I could feel his eyes on me. I had to get away from him. But how? We were miles away from anywhere and he was right beside me. If he decided to do something, there was no one around to stop him. At last, after what felt like an eternity, I saw the faint glow of gas station lights in the distance. I sped up, eager to get there and leave this guy behind. But as we got closer, I glanced to my side, and he was gone. Just like that. There one second, gone the next. I stopped and turned around,

but there was no sign of him, no sound, no movement. I shook my head, telling myself maybe I'd imagined it. Maybe he slipped into the trees, or maybe he was messing with me. Whatever it was, I wasn't going to stick around to find out. Hurryed to the gas station, filled a can with fuel and paid the clerk. On my way out, I looked around, half expecting to see him waiting for me. But the parking lot was empty. Even so, I couldn't shake the fuel.

that I wasn't alone. On the walk back to the car, I kept glancing over my shoulder, my nerves on edge. I reached the car and froze. The hitchhiker was there, crouched by my door, his hands on the handle like he was trying to get in. Hey, I shouted. He looked up. His face was expressionless, empty. For a moment neither of us moved. Then he straightened up and started walking down the road, disappearing into the darkness. I didn't stick around to see where he was going. I ran to the car, filled the tank, unlocked it, got inside, and hit the locks. My hands were shaking as I started the engine and sped off. I didn't ease off the gas until the station was far behind me. The hitchhiker never appeared again, but my nerves were wrecked. Every dark shape by the roadside made me jump.

In the end, it's not just running out of gas that puts you in danger. It's who you cross. It's who you cross paths with along the way. If these gas gone wrong stories gave you chills, make sure you keep your tank full for more. Don't forget to hit like and subscribe so you don't miss the next batch of unsettling tales. Has anything like this ever happened to you? Tell me in the comments. I want to read everything. Take care out there. Thanks for watching and I'll see you in the next nightmare.