Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - 100% REAL SCARY STORIES THAT HAPPENED PART1 #25

Episode Date: October 1, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truehorrorstories #creepyencounters #nightmarefuel #realhorrorstories #scaryexperiences  Part 1 of 100% REAL SCARY STORIES THAT HAPPENED shares terrifying true experiences that happened to real people. From close calls with unknown threats to unnerving encounters with the inexplicable, these stories immerse readers in suspense and fear. Each account proves that sometimes, truth can be scarier than fiction.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truehorrorstories, creepyencounters, nightmarefuel, realhorrorstories, scaryexperiences, chillingtales, unsettlingmoments, realnightmares, disturbingstories, mysteriousoccurrences, survivalstories, stalkerstories, truestoryhorror, urbanhorrorstories

All right, so before I even get into this, let me just throw a little disclaimer your way, this story is 100% true. Like, real life, actually happened, I still think about it years later, kind of true. I know, I know, you're probably going to roll your eyes halfway through and think, yeah, sure, buddy, whatever you say, but that's fine. Honestly, I wouldn't blame you. If I hadn't lived through it myself, I'd probably stick it in a thick, folder in my brain and move on with my day. There's not much I can do to prove it,

short of building a time machine and dragging you back there with me, and if I could do that, trust me, this wouldn't be the first thing I'd use it for. Now, I'm not going to sit here and try to convince you this is anything other than my word against your skepticism. And, yeah, I've heard my fair share of Stephen King comparisons before. In fact, ironically enough, this whole ordeal is what got me into reading Stephen King in the first place. At the time, I'd barely touched horror novels outside of the occasional goosebumps when I was a kid, but after this, man, I devoured his books like they were comfort food. Weird, right?

Something creepy happens and instead of running from that vibe, I dive face-first into it. Anyway, I've been lurking on this channel for a while now, and you seem way more open to weird, you're never going to believe this kinds of stories than most other horror narration places online. There's a sort of pattern with these unbelievable encounters. They always seem to happen when you're alone. Not just alone, but alone at night, which, if you've ever been spooked before, you know is prime time for your brain to start hearing and seeing things it doesn't like. And yeah, that's exactly how this whole thing went down. Before we really dive in, a little about me, I'm a journalist for a pretty big publication. Writing is literally what I do for a living. So if my telling of this

drifts into something that sounds like a fictional creepypasta, just know I'm not doing it on purpose. It's muscle memory. I'll try to keep myself grounded and not overdress the details, but when you've got a weird memory burned into your brain for years, the words tend to just, spill out. And, hey, internet 101, take everything you read online with a grain of salt. I'm not here to force belief onto anyone. All I'm asking is that you keep an open mind while I spill this out. So, picture this, it's the fall of 2006, back in my hometown of Austin, Texas. I was in my senior year of high school, the home stretch.

Life was already stressful enough with college applications and figuring out who the hell I wanted to be when I grew up, but on top of that, I had the joy of walking to and from school every single day. Why? Because the transmission in my beat-up Chevy Malibu decided to quit on me, and fixing it wasn't worth the cost. I was saving every penny I could to buy a new car before starting college, which was still about a year away. Now, normally, Austin is a pretty lively city, not the kind of place where you'd expect some horror movie setup to unfold, but sometimes it throws curveballs. One morning during homeroom, we all got called down to the gym for what they called an important announcement, which, in high school, is code for either a pep rally or bad news.

Judging by how quickly the teachers were hurting us in, My gut told me it wasn't going to be good. Once we were all seated, our principal, Mr. Keller, stepped up to the podium. Now, the guy was usually calm and composed, but that morning he looked, deflated. His voice came through the old, screechy PA system, the kind where every word sounds like it's fighting static, and he told us something that sent the whole place into stunned silence, one of our classmates, a freshman named Stephanie, had died the day before in a hit-and-run. I remember kind of freezing in my seat. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I didn't know her personally.

I'd heard something about a hit-and-run on the radio the day before, but it was just background noise at the time. Now, hearing it connected to a face in the same hallways I walked every day, that made it real. It was tragic, obviously, but there was also this creeping, selfish thought in the back of my head, what if whoever did it is still out there, and what if they're looking for another target? I was one of the only seniors who walked home after school, and a lot of my route went through side streets where someone could easily pull up without anyone noticing. Asking friends for a ride wasn't really an option, most of them either took the bus, or had after-school jobs to rush off to.

And me? I refused to ride the bus. Not going to get into all the details there, but let's just say my school had its fair share of people I didn't want to be trapped in a moving vehicle with. The walk from campus to my place was about 20 minutes, not terrible, but the path cut through a few back roads that weren't exactly well-traveled.

It's not like I thought every shadow was hiding a murderer, but I couldn't shake the idea that whoever hit Stephanie might have done it on purpose. Austin had plenty of drunk drivers, sure, and maybe it was just some idiot texting behind the wheel, but still, the unease stuck with me. About a week later, the school held a memorial for Stephanie. The police were still investigating, but as far as the general public was concerned, life moved on.

Then Friday rolled around. My buddy Mike and I decided to head over to his place after school. His older brother Roger was there, and the plan was to see if he buy us some alcohol. Spoiler, he did. We ended up hanging out on the back porch, shooting the breeze, tossing darts, and generally wasting time in that way only high schoolers can. Before I knew it, it was midnight. I had some work stuff to deal with the next day and didn't really feel like crashing at Mike's, it would have been easier to just head home.

Mike was passed out on the porch by that point, so I told Roger that my dad was coming to pick me up. Total lie. I just didn't want to bother him for a ride, and honestly, he didn't look like he should be driving anywhere. I'd had a few drinks myself, but I wasn't drunk, just a little buzzed and warm. My house was only about a 15-minute walk for Mike's, so I figured, why not? Before leaving, I grabbed a black marker, drew a mustache on Mike's sleeping face, because I am a menace, said goodbye to Roger, and started walking. Eventually, I hit this narrow back street that connected my neighborhood to Mike's. It stretched for about half a mile, and once you got to the end, my house was literally

just around the corner. Here's the thing, though, at night, that street was dark. Like, your phone flashlight barely helps dark. There were a few old-fashioned streetlamps along the sidewalk, but most of them were either busted or so dim they may as well not have been there. I usually avoided that route when walking home from school, and I almost never walked through Austin late at night. So, yeah, I was on edge. I got about halfway down when suddenly, every street lamp blinked out at once. Great, I muttered under my breath, because of course this had to happen now.

I stood there for about five minutes, letting my eyes try to adjust to the pitch black. It must have been a new moon that night, because I couldn't even spot a sliver of light in the sky. Eventually, I kept moving, and as the trees to my right thinned out, I saw some floodlights way off in the distance. They were faint, but it was enough to at least get my bearings again. Then it happened, the thing that made my blood feel like it turned solid. Somewhere nearby, a car engine roared to life, followed by this loud rattling sound. Now, if you've ever been to a vintage car show, you know the kind of noise I'm talking about, that deep, grolly rumble of an older engine, the kind you feel in your chest as much as you hear.

But when you're standing alone on a pitch black street in the middle of the night. Yeah, it's not a fun sound. Immediately, Stephanie's accident popped into my head. I froze, scanning the shadows for headlights, movement, anything. There were no lights, no visible car, but the sound was close. Really close. And that, is where I'm going to have to hit pause. To be continued.