Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Chased, Watched, and Hunted True Stories of Terror, Close Calls, and Creeps PART2 #74

Episode Date: September 27, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truehorrorstories #stalkerencounters #creepyexperiences #realnightmares #truestoryterror  Part 2 of Chased, Watched, and Hunted continues with more bone-chilling true encounters of people who came face-to-face with stalkers, creeps, and terrifying strangers. These real-life horror tales explore the dread of being followed, the fear of close calls that could have ended worse, and the unsettling reality that sometimes the scariest monsters aren’t supernatural—they’re human.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truehorrorstories, truestoryhorror, stalkerencounters, creepyencounters, realnightmares, unsettlingmoments, chillingtales, scaryencounters, survivalstories, disturbingstories, creepyexperiences, truecrimehorror, nightmarefuel, truestoryterror

Are you insane? He's probably lurking out there, waiting in the parking lot like some B-movie villain. Emma's eyes darted to the exit, then back to me. What about the go-kart guy? Maybe he could walk us out, she offered, but I just shook my head quickly. He's higher than Mount Everest, I hissed. I'm not wasting time running over to the ticket shack just to find out he's halfway to Mars mentally. Emma frowned, then nodded. Then we don't. don't have a choice. We're doing this. Let's go. I swallowed hard. My heart was punching my ribcage like it wanted out. I had never felt that scared in my life. Emma grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward the exit. We peered around like we were expecting him to crawl out of the

woods or pop up from behind a bush. Hurry up and get your keys out, she snapped. I fished them from my pocket, fingers trembling. We were about 20 feet from the car when I stopped. I froze. I stared at the car. My keys dangled from my hand. A horrifying realization hit me like a freight train. Emma.

I never locked it. What? I didn't lock the car, I whispered, horror struck. What if? I trailed off, but she got the message. Her face darkened. She inched toward the car. cautiously. I grabbed her arm. Don't, I pleaded. She pulled away. I'm just going to peek.

If I say run, you run. I gave a shaky nod. She crept forward. From the way she squinted, I could tell she couldn't see much. It was too dark. My mind spiraled. What if he was already inside. What if he jumped out? What if we got in and he was lying on the floor, waiting to attack? All those thoughts evaporated the second we heard the sound. Footsteps. Fast. Heavy. Slamming against pavement. I spun around. There he was. He was sprinting at us full speed. Out of the woods. Directly toward us. I screamed. Loud. Raw. I ran. My feet pounded against the asphalt as I reached the car. I yanked the handle. Locked. Emma was already at the passenger side, shrieking for me to unlock it. My hands were shaking so badly, I almost dropped the keys. Somehow, by some miracle, I got the door open. I threw myself inside. I looked up just in time to see him right there. slamming his fists against my window, screaming unintelligibly. I was sobbing.

I barely managed to hit the lock button as he grabbed the handle and yanked. Go. Emma screamed. I shoved the key into the ignition, slammed into reverse. He was still chasing us, still yelling, still pounding on the car as we sped off. I reversed so fast I almost hit the curb. Then I turned the wheel and gunned it. I didn't care about speed limits. I was driving like I was still on the go-kart track. I could barely see through the tears pouring down my face. Emma had to grab the wheel more than once to keep us on the road.

Eventually, I got it together. She stayed calm. Somehow. She was shaking, but holding back tears. I don't know how she did it. We didn't say a word the entire ride home. When we finally pulled into my driveway, we just sat there. Silent.

We never told our parents. Not then. We were scared they'd blame us, that they'd say it was our fault. So it became our secret. Something we didn't even bring up again for months. But we never, ever went back to Miller's Fun Park. This next thing happened when I was just five. And weirdly enough, it's one of the clearest memories

I have from that age. My family had emigrated from Europe, and we were living in the States by then. My grandmother visited every summer. She'd stay with us for three months. It was nice having her around. One afternoon that summer, she was planning to take me to the park down the street. I was already outside, waiting in the driveway while she was inside gathering stuff, probably snacks, sunscreen, Grandma things. Then I noticed this car. A black car. Slowly rolling down the road. It stopped. Right in front of our driveway. At first, I didn't think anything of it. Maybe they were lost. Maybe they were going to turn around. Then the driver door opened. A man stepped out. Black man, probably in his 30s or 40s. He walked toward me.

I just stood there, completely frozen. As he got closer, he opened his arms. Like he was about to scoop me up. And for a moment, I actually thought, he's the boogeyman. He came closer. Inches away. His arms were stretched out. I finally moved.

My little legs scrambled backward. I bolted up the steps and started banging on the front door like a maniac. Behind me, I heard him muttering something. I didn't catch it. I was too scared. Then I heard him running. By the time my grandma opened the door, he was back in his car and peeling off down the road. I told her what happened.

She didn't believe me. I mean, she was old school. Stubborn. She thought I was making it up. I was known for having a vivid imagination, sure. But this wasn't a story. It was real. As real as the fear still lodged in my chest when I think about it. Now that I'm older, it terrifies me even more. That a grown man pulled into our driveway, in broad daylight, to try and abduct a child. Me. I don't really share stories. But this one has been eating at me again lately. Poking at my brain. Like it wants attention. So maybe maybe you're not. You're not. You're not going to be. You're not going. So maybe. telling it will help me finally shake it. It happened in 1986. I was 16. We were at Union Station in Indianapolis, around Christmas. I was there with my mom, my baby sister, she was just two,

and my uncle, he was 21 at the time. My uncle still lived in Indianapolis. The rest of us were visiting from southwest Indiana. We were getting ready to head back home. It was freezing out. I had on a thick jacket, scarf, gloves, the works. My mom, bless her, could talk to anyone for hours. She was mid-conversation with someone. So I told her, it's too hot in here. I'm stepping outside for a sec. To be continued.