Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - 100% REAL SCARY STORIES THAT HAPPENED PART6 #30

Episode Date: October 1, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truehorrorstories #creepyencounters #nightmarefuel #realhorrorstories #scaryexperiences  Part 6 of 100% REAL SCARY STORIES THAT HAPPENED continues with shocking and terrifying true accounts. From unnerving encounters with strangers to bizarre and inexplicable events, each story draws readers into suspense and fear. This installment emphasizes how reality can sometimes surpass the most frightening fiction, leaving readers with a lasting chill.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truehorrorstories, creepyencounters, nightmarefuel, realhorrorstories, scaryexperiences, chillingtales, unsettlingmoments, realnightmares, disturbingstories, mysteriousoccurrences, survivalstories, stalkerstories, truestoryhorror, urbanhorrorstories

There's so much rugby on Sports Extra from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter Sports Extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time we've got every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup, and much more. Thus the URC and all the best European rugby all in the same place.

Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra. Jampack with rugby. Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Standard Pressing applies after 12 months for the terms apply. I know what you're feeling and I was there too.

And I know you might think that there is nobody to talk to, but I promise that you're not alone. It was never your fault, and you deserve support and healing in your own time. Whenever you're ready to talk, Dublin Rape Crisis Centre will be ready to listen. Call the 24-hour National Helpline on 1-800-77-888-8. I was sitting there, staring at the judge, when Robert's letter was read aloud.

In it, he asked a question that made my skin crawl, not because it was threatening, but because it was manipulative in that smug, you can't prove anything, kind of way. He wrote, How could I possibly even get to Washington State? I remember gripping the edge of the table, my knuckles white, and saying as calmly as I could, that's not true. He posts about his motorcycle trips to Malibu all the the time on Facebook. If he can get there, he can get here, but logic didn't seem to matter that day. Despite all the screenshots, all the printed posts, all the evidence, the judge denied

my request for a restraining order. It was like getting punched in the chest. I walked out of that courtroom with this dull ringing in my ears, feeling like the system had just shrugged and said, good luck, you're on your own. From that day, I started cutting every digital tie I could think of. I blocked Robert on all my social media accounts, on every email address I'd ever used, and on every phone number I had saved for him. But he was slippery, he'd just get a new number, a new email, a new way in. One afternoon, I got a message from a friend that made my stomach drop. Hey, they wrote, why'd you send me another friend request? I thought we were already friends, we were.

It turned out Robert had created a duplicate Facebook profile using my exact profile picture and full name. From there, he'd been sending friend requests to everyone on my friend's list, my real friends, my family, even co-workers. The creepy part. He had blocked my actual profile. That meant I couldn't even see what he was doing, and I only found out because my friend thought something was off and messaged me directly. This fake version of, me, was post-a-one.

all kinds of nasty, twisted lies. Personal stuff, private stuff, some of it completely made up. My friend reported the account, and thankfully, Facebook removed it pretty quickly. But I knew it was only a matter of time before he tried something else. I changed my cell phone number, thinking that would cut off another avenue. Not long after that, I moved into a new place. For a while, the silence was almost comforting. It was like the air around me finally cleared, and I could go about my life without constantly glancing over my shoulder. But Robert has a way of finding cracks in any wall I build. Months later, I got a notification from LinkedIn, Robert had found me there. I didn't even

remember I still had an account. I deleted it immediately, scrubbing every bit of my information from that site. Then he showed up following my YouTube channel. I didn't even know how that was possible, but there it was, his username in my subscriber list. I blocked him there too, but blocking on YouTube doesn't stop someone from watching your videos. By then, I'd started to realize something important, blocking is like locking a screen door. It might slow someone down, but it won't stop them if they're determined enough. I wish that was where the story ended, but it wasn't. I've kept a few of the voicemails he left me back when I still had my old number, mostly as evidence, partly as a grim reminder.

His voice is burned into my memory, slow and deliberate, dripping with this fake calmness that doesn't quite hide the threat underneath. One message went, would you consider just responding to me? That's the Christian thing to do, don't you think? Please, I'm not playing around. By another, look, if you don't respond, you're not leaving me too many choices here. That only leaves me one, and I don't want to do. that. Not a lot of blinds I do. I wish you'd just talk to me. We could work this out. But obviously

you don't want that. You're not leaving me much choice. And I won't be going after a paycheck. By, that last one stuck with me, I won't be going after a paycheck. It was like he was saying, I'm not going to sue you, I'm going to do something worse. But let me back up a bit. My name's Caitlin. I'm 21 now, but this whole mess started when I was 19. At the time, I'd just taken over my parents' old two-bedroom apartment in Kentucky. It wasn't fancy, definitely not in the best neighborhood, but it was mine. And more importantly, it allowed pets, which meant my two dogs, Kylo and Finn, could stay with me. Kylo and Finn are both border collies, about 45 pounds each. Sweet with me, a fault, but definitely not fans of strangers. Their barks are low and sharp, the kind that makes

the hair on the back of your neck stand up. To help with rent, I invited my boyfriend Isaac and my friend Aaron to move in. We split the bills three ways, and while it was cramped at times, it worked. The apartment building itself was three stories. The basement level had two apartments and a small parking garage. The second floor, where I lived, had four apartments total. Mine was directly to the left when you came up the stairs. Just past my door was another staircase that led up to the third floor. Since my unit was technically on the ground level in the back, I was lucky enough to have a small yard. Kylo and Finn loved it, especially at night when it was cooler. One night, Isaac and I were out walking the dogs. We planned to head straight to bed afterwards.

so we went around the building to avoid a car that had just pulled up out front. I didn't like passing strangers head on with the dogs, they got too defensive, and I didn't want to risk an incident. As we came around the side, I saw him. A guy in a pink shirt, leaning against the wall of the vacant apartment across from ours. No one had lived there for months, it was basically used for storage. Seeing anyone there at night was unusual enough, but something about the way he was standing, like he'd been waiting, made my pulse quicken. He called out, hey, we ignored him, kept walking. Finn started to growl, Kylo joining in a second later.

I whispered to Isaac, let's just go back around the front, but when we came back toward our building, there he was again, only now he wasn't alone. A second man, taller and wearing glasses, was with him. They were at the entrance, watching us. The moment they saw us noticed them, they moved. Fast. They darted toward the back stairwell, the one that led directly to my door. I shoved Isaac and the dogs inside, slamming and locking the door just as their footsteps hit the landing. Then, three slow, evenly spaced knocks. I looked through the peephole.

It was them. They knocked again. We didn't answer. I wish I could say they eventually left. But that night was only the beginning. You'd think they would just shrug, maybe mutter something under their breath, and walk away. But no. These two weren't giving up that easily.

After the second round of Knox, there was this weird pause, like they were waiting for me to change my mind. Then came a third round, louder, sharper. My heart was pounding so hard that I could hear it in my ears. Isaac gave me that look, the one that silently says, don't even think about opening it. The dogs were losing their minds now, barking like they were ready to tear the door down themselves. The knocking stopped, but the silence that followed was almost worse. I peeked through the peephole again, they were still there. The one in the pink shirt had his hands in his pockets like he had all the time in the world. The guy with the glasses kept

glancing toward the stairwell, like he was expecting someone else to come up. Isaac whispered, we should call someone. I nodded and grabbed my phone, but before I could even dial, they started speaking. I couldn't make out every word through the thick door, but I caught bits and pieces. Just want to talk. We know you're in there. Don't be rude. The tone wasn't friendly. It was like they were trying to sound casual, but there was this edge, something that made my stomach twist. We didn't say a word. I wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of knowing we were listening. Finally, after what felt like forever, I heard footsteps going down the stairs. I stayed frozen for a good 30 seconds, just to be sure they were actually gone. Then Isaac peaked

through the blinds of the front window. There, outside. Just standing near the parking lot, great. So they weren't leaving. called one of the neighbors I'd gotten friendly with, a guy named Marcus who lived on the third floor. He was the kind of guy who always seemed to know what was going on in the building. I figured maybe he'd seen them before. When I explained what was happening, his tone shifted. Pink shirt. Glasses? Yeah. I've seen them hanging around the last couple nights. Don't know who they're visiting. Just, be careful, Caitlin. Lock up, that didn't exactly put me at ease.

The rest of the night, I kept every light off in the front room and sat in the kitchen with the dogs, scrolling on my phone but not really absorbing anything I was looking at. Isaac made sure every window was locked. By morning, they were gone. Or at least, I didn't see them. But the unease stayed. You don't just forget about two strangers showing up at your door late at night, especially when they act like that.

For the next week, I noticed little things. A car I didn't recognize parked across the street. Footsteps in the hallway at odd hours. Once, I thought I saw the pink shirt guy leaning against the fence across the lot, but when I blinked, he was gone. I tried to tell myself I was imagining it, paranoia left over from the first night. But deep down, I didn't believe that. Then one afternoon, while Isaac was at work and Aaron was out, there was a knock at the door again.

Three knocks. Same rhythm. I froze mid-step, holding my coffee mug like it might somehow protect me. The dog started barking, and Kylo ran to the door like he was ready to launch himself through it. I didn't even bother looking through the people. I knew it was them. This time, I didn't hear voices. Just that awful, heavy silence.

I backed away slowly, grabbed my phone, and called Marcus again. He answered on the second ring. They're back, I whispered. I'll come down, he said immediately. A few seconds later, I heard his heavy footsteps pounding down the third floor stairs. Then his voice, loud, firm, telling someone to get lost. When I dared to look, I saw the two guys walking from. quickly toward the back of the building. Marcus stood there watching them until they disappeared,

then turned to me. They're not here for anything good, he said. Keep your doors locked. And, maybe think about getting a camera. That night, I started looking up security systems online. To be continued.