Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - A Mission in the Shadows of Chernobyl Obedience, Betrayal, and Unnatural Forces PART1 #11

Episode Date: September 19, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales  #chernobylmission #shadowforces #betrayalhorror #unnaturalpowers #postapocalypseterror  Part 1 opens a haunting tale set deep within Chernobyl’s shadows, where a secret mission unfolds amidst obedience, betrayal, and unnatural forces. The narrator faces eerie phenomena and dark conspiracies that blur the lines between reality and the supernatural. This story sets a suspenseful tone for a chilling journey into the unknown dangers lurking after the disaster.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, chernobylmission, shadowhorror, betrayalstory, unnaturalforces, postapocalyptic, darkconspiracy, supernaturalterror, suspensehorror, eerieatmosphere, chillingencounters, survivalstory, nightmareunfolds, forbiddenzones, hauntedlands, terrorinthezone

I'm a 20-year-old guy, and what I'm about to tell you still messes with my head to this day. This happened back in the winter of 2018, the day after Christmas. I was up in Maine with my parents, visiting my grandmother. And let me tell you, if you've never experienced a Maine winter and you're from Texas, like me, it's like being slapped in the face with a frozen fish every time you step outside. It's brutal. I swear my lungs had no idea what to do with air that cold. Anyway, my parents had plans that evening.

They were going to see some old family friend who lived nearby, so they left me and my grandmother at the house. She's a sweet old lady, the kind of grandma who always smells like cookies and mothballs, and she loves watching those old black and white mystery movies. We watched a couple together, and around eight o'clock she called it a night. She's one of those people who's in bed before most people even think about dinner. I tried sticking with the TV for a while, but it was all reruns, and I started feeling restless.

My body was still in that post-holiday sugar and leftovers mode, and I needed to move. That's when I remembered something pretty cool about my grandmother's neighborhood, a stone maze. Yeah, a literal stone labyrinth with fountains and angel statues and everything. It sounds like something out of a movie, and honestly, it's the last thing you'd expect to find in some quiet retirement community. I used to walk through it during the day whenever I visited, just because it felt like stepping into another world for a bit. The neighborhood itself is a 50-plus community, which basically means the youngest person around

besides me was probably 55, and that's if they were considered a wild child in this place. The maze was probably safe from teenagers vandalizing it because, well, there weren't any teenagers around. Back home in Texas, something like this would have been covered in spray-painted swear. words and cartoon penises by now. But here, it was just pristine. I grabbed my coat, gloves, and a flashlight. My grandma had told me earlier that week that security basically disappeared during the holidays, no guards walking around, no one checking on the property at night. But she also said nobody would care if I wandered into the maze after dark. So I figured, why not? It took me maybe

five minutes to crunch my way through the snow to the maze entrance. The cold bit at my face, and I could see my own breath spilling out in little clouds in the beam of my flashlight. The maze wasn't huge, you wouldn't get lost for hours, but it was just big enough to mess with your head if you weren't paying attention. If you've ever played Resident Evil 4, remember that creepy dog maze where Leon has to grab the puzzle pieces. Picture that, but in real life. Same vibe, minus the actual hellhounds, or so I thought. I usually popped in my headphones during daytime walks, but for some reason, that night I didn't. Something in me just said, keep your ears open.

And wow, am I glad I listened to that little gut feeling? I had been walking for maybe 10 minutes, enjoying the crunch of snow under my boots and the distant sound of the wind in the bare trees, when I heard it, a metallic scraping noise. I froze. My brain immediately, went full alarm mode. Scray rape. It was unmistakable, like metal on stone. My heart started hammering. For a second, I thought maybe it was just ice shifting or something, but then I heard a voice.

A deep, rough voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. Abandoned hope, all ye who enter here, I swear my blood turned to ice water. Suddenly, I wasn't just a guy wandering around a cute little maze anymore. I was the idiot in the first five minutes of a horror movie. I spun around, flashlight trembling in my hand, trying to figure out where the sound had come from. My eyes darted over the statues and hedges, my ears straining in the cold silence. That's when I remembered the little nooks and crannies in the maze, the fountains, the angel statues, the places where the path widened a bit. Some of them had just enough space for a person to crouch behind the shrubs along the walls. If some of

was trying to mess with me, they could pop out from anywhere. My instincts screamed one word, hide. I ducked behind a thick bush near a statue of the Archangel Michael, or David, I can never remember which angel was holding the sword. From my crouch, I could see the corridor I'd entered from, dimly lit by the street lamps outside the maze. After maybe a minute, I saw movement. A figure stepped out of the shadows. Tall, bulky, dressed in dark clothes. that blended into the night. I squinted and saw something in his hand. Even in the poor light, I knew what it was. A pickax. Not like a cute little craft pickax, like, the kind you see in horror movies. I could see its silhouette clear as day. The figure moved slowly, almost

methodically, across the clearing in front of the statue. My breath caught when I heard another sound, teeth clattering. At first I thought it was my mine, but no, I wasn't shaking that hard. It was him. He was, chattering his teeth. The guy eventually slipped into another corridor, vanishing into the shadows like he was part ghost. I stayed put for a long minute, my heart pounding so loud I was afraid he'd hear it. When I finally convinced myself the coast was clear, I decided I'd try to backtrack the way I came and get the hell out. I crept out of hiding, careful with every step. That's when I heard it again.

Scrayerate. This time, it came from the direction he'd gone. My flashlight shook as I turned, and before I could even process what I was seeing, that same deep voice roared through the night. I see you, and then he came. Sprinting straight at me, pickaxe raised high like he was in some twisted lumberjack competition. I didn't think. I just ran.

My boots slipped on the icy snow as I bolted down corridor after corridor, not even trying to figure out where I was going. I heard his footsteps pounding behind me, closer than I ever wanted them to be. Every corner I turned, I half expected to meet a dead end and feel steel crash into my skull. After what felt like forever but was probably five minutes, I saw the exit. The orange glow of a streetlight framed that sweet, sweet opening. I sprinted harder than I ever have in my life. Then, W. H. H.A. Z Z-Z, Z, thunk.

Snow exploded to my right. I glanced back just long enough to see the pickaxe lying in the snow, the guy standing at the maze entrance, frozen like a shadow. He'd thrown it at me, and thank God he missed. I didn't stop running until I was back at my grandmother's front door, slamming it behind me and fumbling for my phone. The police showed up eventually, but of course. course, it was like every horror story you've ever heard, they were too late. The guy was gone.

They took my statement, searched the maze, and even had a squad car cruise the area all night. I didn't tell my parents or my grandma until the next day. What was I going to do, wake up an 80-year-old woman at midnight and tell her some psycho with a pickaxe tried to kill me? No thanks. I consider myself a level-headed guy, but I'll tell you one thing, if I'm a little-headed guy, if I hadn't kept calm enough to hide first, that pickax probably would have split my skull that night. I wish I could say that was the only creepy thing that ever happened to me, but life apparently had more nightmare fuel waiting. Fast forward a decade earlier, back when I was in college in Gainesville, Florida. I was in my early twenties and broke, which meant babysitting

was my side hustle. One of my regular gigs was for this nice lady, Mrs. Grutter. She had twin boys, Ashton and Samuel, sweetest kids you could imagine. They were maybe six at the time, well-behaved, and obsessed with cartoons about talking cars and dinosaurs. Watching them was always easy money. One Friday night in late October, I headed over to their place right after class. The Grooters were heading out of town for the weekend, and I was in charge until the boys and showed up the next day. My plan was simple, feed the kids, get them to bed, and they were then grind through some studying for my mid-semester exam. Everything was normal. We watched TV until about 8.30, and then I tucked them in. I set up in the living room with my laptop,

textbook spread everywhere, and for a while, it was just me and the quiet hum of the fridge in the background. Then, that feeling hit me. You know the one. The someone's watching you feeling. It crept up my spine so fast I froze mid-typing. I tried to shake it off, told myself I was just tired. But it kept getting worse, until I finally stood up and checked the sliding glass door to the backyard. Empty yard. Dead quiet. But then I noticed the old swings set by the fence.

The one Mrs. Gritter had said came with the house from the previous owners. Two swings. One was completely still. The other, swayed. back and forth. Slow. Like someone had just gotten up. I swallowed hard and turned back toward the living room, and almost died on the spot.

Samuel was standing right behind me. I must have jumped a foot in the air. My heart was pounding like I'd sprinted a mile. Once I could breathe again, I whispered, Sammy, buddy, what are you doing out of bed? He rubbed his eyes and said, dead serious. the woman with no head is keeping me up. Can you tell her to leave? I froze. That was the moment I knew I was in for one of those nights. To be continued.