Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - 100% REAL SCARY STORIES THAT HAPPENED PART3 #27

Episode Date: October 1, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truehorrorstories #creepyencounters #nightmarefuel #realhorrorstories #scaryexperiences  Part 3 of 100% REAL SCARY STORIES THAT HAPPENED continues with chilling accounts of true events. From unnerving encounters with strangers to bizarre, unexplained happenings, each story is packed with suspense and fear. This installment reinforces the idea that reality can be far scarier than fiction, keeping readers on edge throughout.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truehorrorstories, creepyencounters, nightmarefuel, realhorrorstories, scaryexperiences, chillingtales, unsettlingmoments, realnightmares, disturbingstories, mysteriousoccurrences, survivalstories, stalkerstories, truestoryhorror, urbanhorrorstories

I've always thought of myself as a decent human being. You know, the kind of person who'll hold the door open for a stranger, stop to help someone whose grocery bag just split on the sidewalk, or even give directions to a tourist even if I'm running late. I like helping people. But there's a line. And that line is very, very firmly drawn when it comes to putting myself in danger. I'm nice, not reckless.

That's why the morning this whole thing happened is burned into my brain like it happened yesterday. It was stupid early, still pitch black outside, that eerie time when the streetlights are humming and most of the world is asleep. I just pulled out of my driveway, mind half on my coffee, half on the fact that I had another long shift ahead of me, when I saw him. This man, walking, straight toward my car. At first, I thought maybe I was imagining it, like, who the heck just materializes in the middle of the road at four in the morning? But nope, he was really there. And here's the kicker, he had a suitcase.

My brain did this rapid-fire calculation. Man, walking toward me. Has suitcase. It's the dead of night. No buses or trains around here. What the actual hell? I felt my stomach tighten. Everything about it screamed wrong.

Without giving myself time to debate, my survival instincts kicked in. I lost my nerve, hit the gas, and sped down the street. I glanced in my rearview mirror and there he was, just standing in the road, suitcase at his side, staring after me like I was the one acting suspicious. That image has stayed with me, him motionless, a dark silhouette in the glow of my taillights. I could already hear people saying, oh, you're overreacting. Maybe he just needed help. Yeah, okay, but you tell me, what normal person approaches a car in the middle of the street at 4 a.m. with luggage? And for what reason? By the time I reached work, the unease hadn't left me. I decided I wasn't just going to brush it off. I called the police and

explained that I was a concerned resident. I told them I'd lived in the neighborhood for four years, and I'd never seen this guy before. They said they'd send a patrol car to check the area. hours passed. No call back. I eventually rang them again to follow up. They told me they hadn't found anyone matching the description, no sign, no trace. That should have been comforting, but honestly, it wasn't. Later that day, after my shift, I told my husband about it. He chuckled, said it was probably someone coming back from the airport. But here's the thing, the nearest airport is an hours drive away. Why would you be hoofing it down a residential street in the dead of night with a suitcase? His, your overreacting didn't really calm me down. I mostly tried to let it go,

until a few weeks later, when I was chatting with a customer. We live in a small town, so gossip travels faster than the wind. I mentioned, kind of offhand, that weird early morning encounter. The second I described the man with the suitcase, my customer's face went pale. Like, instant ghostly white. He leaned in and told me the police had recently found bodies in suitcases in our county. Every single hair on my arm stood up. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. He asked if I remembered what the man looked like. Truthfully, I didn't get a super clear look, it had been too dark, and I'd been too busy fleeing, but now my brain couldn't help making connections. Was the man I'd seen the so-called suitcase killer?

I'll never know for sure. But I do know one thing, I am beyond grateful I didn't roll down my window and offer help that morning. A couple of months after that creepy episode, I had another brush with danger, this time a lot closer to home. It was another early workday. I decided to take the back exit from our apartment building instead. of the long hallway to the front. My husband and I lived at the end of the hall, and it just seemed faster to park in the back lot, especially since the front spots were always full. Out back, there was this cement walkway lined with tall pine trees, beautiful during the day, but kind of

unnerving in darkness. The second I opened that back door, my blood ran cold. There, directly ahead of me, was the shadowy outline of a large man. And he was running, full speed. speed, straight toward me. I didn't even pause to think. Slanned the door shut so hard it echoed, and bolted back into my apartment like my life depended on it. My heart was going absolutely feral in my chest. By the time I reached the bedroom, I was breathless. My husband sat straight up in bed, alarmed. I babbled out what had just happened, my voice trembling. He jumped out of bed, went to the door, and peered through the peephole. Nothing. He cracked the door, scanned the hallway. Still nothing. I was still shaking when he walked me out to my car a few minutes later. I seriously

lucked out marrying a guy who do that without hesitation. Later that day, he told me to forget the back lot, stick to the front, where the lights were. I listened. That same week, I bought pepper spray. I've had it for seven years now and, thankfully, never had to use it. But I keep it on me because one thing I've learned. Feeling safe in your neighborhood is no excuse to let your guard down. So, about seven years ago, this whole situation with the suitcase guy happened, but that wasn't the only time I found myself thinking, man, this world is way scarier than I ever thought.

Let me take you back to when I was 21, living with my ex-boyfriend down in Southern California. This was the first time I was really out on my own, without my parents watching my every move, which honestly made me feel like I was invincible. And yeah, maybe a little reckless too. We lived in what most people called a safe neighborhood. You know, the kind where the lawns are trimmed perfectly, the streets have nice sidewalks, and the neighbors all smile and say, hi, when you walk by. The kind of place where the local university was nearby and violent crime was just a headline in the news. newspaper, not a part of your daily life. One hot July night, it was around 1 a.m., and my boyfriend and I were getting cabin fever from sitting in our sweltering apartment. We decided to take a walk

to this park a few blocks away. It wasn't just any park, it had this artificial lake where ducks and geese like to hang out, and benches all around where you could sit and just zone out watching the water shimmer in the moonlight. The sky was crystal clear, the moon hung big and bright, and the summer heat still clung to the air. It was one of those nights where everything seems peaceful, even magical. Or so we thought. The park was surrounded by towering trees and thick bushes that made it feel like you were in some little nature bubble in the middle of the city. My boyfriend was this naturally skinny guy with long hair that almost gave him a dreamy, artsy vibe.

I was about five feet five inches and weighed barely 100 pounds at the time, so when we sat side by side on a bench, watching the moon's reflection ripple over the water, it felt like a perfect little escape. Then, out of nowhere, bright headlights blazed through the parking lot adjacent to the park. A police cruiser came speeding in, bouncing off the speed bumps like it was racing in some kind of chase scene. Red and blue lights flashed wildly, painting the trees and bushes in an eerie glow. The car screeched to a halt and suddenly, a spotlight cut through the shadows, shining right into the dark thicket near the lake. In that moment, my stomach dropped. We both knew, we were not supposed to be there.

And if I'm being honest, we may or may not have been a little buzzed, okay, definitely buzzed. Bad timing doesn't even begin to cover it. We froze. The last thing we wanted was to bolt and look guilty, because running would probably just get us chased down and hauled off for being in a closed park. So we stayed put, hearts pounding, watching the cop spotlight dance around the trees. For a while, nothing happened.

We were wondering what the hell was going on, maybe some drug deal. A suspect hiding out. We couldn't see much beyond the thick foliage. Then the cop started moving toward us. We braced ourselves for tickets, or worse. But what he told us next was way worse than just a ticket. He said he was on a routine patrol when he spotted a man lurking in the bushes, watching us. The guy was hiding, like a predator waiting for his moment.

The officer said, since my boyfriend had long hair and was thin, the stalker probably thought we were both women from behind. That's what made him interested, he was targeting females. I swear, I could feel my boyfriend's ego deflate on the spot. The officer said the stalker was creeping closer when he flipped on his lights and rushed in. What they found on the man was like a nightmare come to life, knives, handcuffs, zip ties, duct tape, and even a gun. Like some sick kidnapper's survival kit.

My breath caught in my throat. If the cop hadn't come when he did, I don't even want to imagine what would have happened. We thanked him over and over and didn't say much on the walk back to our apartment. That park? We never set foot there again. Okay, shifting down. years a little, I want to tell you about something that happened when I was 16. Back then, I was way more of a wild child. I lived in a small town in Ireland with two close friends,

Aaron and Tristan. We were the kind of kids who couldn't stay indoors if our lives depended on it. Sneaking out and exploring abandoned places was kind of our thing. One night, around 10 p.m., we finished a marathon gaming session on Call of Duty. We were hyped up and decided to to go check out this abandoned gas station we'd found earlier in the week. It was down this overgrown road where even the streetlights had given up years ago, leaving everything cloaked in darkness. As we walked up to the Erie building, Tristan spotted an old grey Nissan parked at the far end of the lot.

It was just sitting there, silent, like it didn't belong. I remember the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Something about that night felt different. Like the shadows themselves were wide. watching us. But being teenagers, we shrugged it off, mostly because we didn't want to admit we were scared. We got closer and then, well, I'll stop here for now because this story deserves its own moment. So, yeah, that's the kind of stuff I've been through, and why I'm telling you this, you never know what's lurking out there. You might think you're safe, but sometimes

the creepiest stuff is just a few steps from your front door or that quiet park you like to visit. If there's one piece of advice I could give, it's to trust your gut. Always. If something feels off, it probably is. Don't second-guess your instincts. And seriously, keep some pepper spray handy or any kind of protection you feel comfortable with. Because the world's full of freaks, creeps, and people who don't have your best interests at heart, and they're looking for moments when you're not paying attention. Stay alert, stay safe, don't be afraid to get a little paranoid. It might just save your life.