Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Chilling Encounters With Predators, Stalkers, and the Darkness of Human Obsession PART2 #58

Episode Date: October 25, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #predatorencounters #stalkerstories #humanobsession #truestoryfear #dangerousencounters  Chilling Encounters With Predators, Stalkers, and the Darkness of Human Obsession – Part 2 continues the terrifying true stories of people targeted by predators and stalkers. This installment delves into escalating threats, the psychological torment of being watched or followed, and the extreme measures victims took to survive, revealing just how dark human obsession can become.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, predatorencounters, stalkerstories, humanobsession, truestoryfear, dangerousencounters, chillingrealstories, suspensefultruestory, unsettlingencounters, realfearhorrorstories, darkhumanbehavior, crimeandobsession, terrifyingexperiences, victimhorrorstories, nightmareencounters

Madness, strangers, and the kind of memories you don't want. People always say danger looks obvious, like it wears a mask or walks with a shadow. But most of the time, it doesn't. Most of the time, it looks like someone smiling too warmly, or standing just a little too close, or staring a little too long before pretending they didn't. That's the part that still messes with me, even now, years later. When I was a kid, I learned early that trust was a fragile thing. My brother had already moved out by the time the worst of it started, off living with his girlfriend,

trying to dodge the chaos that seemed to follow our family everywhere. That left me stuck with my mom and, for a while, Rie. Rie, where do I even begin? He was this tall, thin guy who drifted into our lives like a shadow pretending to be a friend. My mom thought he was harmless, maybe even helpful, but my gut always wavered around him. Eventually, people around us started whispering, warning us about him. By then, though, it was too late. One day, everything broke open at school.

I'd been carrying the weight of Rees' touches, his two tight hugs, his little accidents, that didn't feel so accidental. My teacher noticed me breaking down in class. I couldn't hold it together. She asked if I was okay, and I completely lost it, sobbing in front of everyone, my chest aching like I was drowning. The school counselor pulled me aside, sat me down, and asked a thousand questions. I answered, though my voice shook and my hands trembled.

They called my brother, who barely knew reed but confirmed that he existed, and they called my mom. For once, my mom didn't try to cover it up. She spilled everything, probably more out of fear of losing her benefits than fear for me. The police got involved. They didn't want me walking home, so they drove me. Imagine being 14, sitting in the back of a squad car, stomach twisted, knowing your life just tipped sideways. When we pulled up, they told my mom that Rie wasn't allowed to talk to me anymore.

They couldn't keep him from being nearby, laws are funny that way, but he was at a absolutely forbidden to approach me. But here's the part that makes my blood run cold, even now. The cops told us they found him outside my school. He had money in his pocket, meant for me, because he knew I'd do anything to get smokes for my mom. And he had a shiny new bike with him, a gift he said was for my brother. That wasn't kindness.

That wasn't generosity. That was bait. He was planning to kidnap me that day. I know it in my bones. If the school hadn't stepped in, if the cops hadn't shown up, I don't think I'd be sitting here writing this. For a few more years, until I turned 16, re hovered like a shadow. Whenever I was with my mom, we'd sometimes bump into him.

He'd talked to her, eyes locked on me, never addressing what had happened, never acknowledging the invisible wall between us. My mom. She never confronted him. She chatted like nothing had ever happened, like he hadn't almost stolen me away. By 16, I couldn't take it anymore. I packed my stuff and left, heading north to Maine.

It wasn't paradise, but it was distance, distance from a mom who I'm still convinced would have traded me away if it meant another pack of cigarettes, and distance from the stranger who slithered into my life like a snake in tall grass. Let's not meet again, ever. Now, I'd love to tell you that was the only time in my life I brushed up against madness in human form. But no, life doesn't hand you just one horror and let you be. It sprinkles them throughout the years like landmines.

Take what happened recently in Sydney. I live here now, thousands of miles away from that Connecticut nightmare, and honestly, I've grown used to dealing with the occasional nut job. Cities always have their share, someone ranting on a bus, someone muttering to themselves in the street, someone asking for money but glaring if you don't hand it over. It's background noise. I thought I knew how to read them, how to stay safe. A few weeks ago, I went shopping at Westfield, one of those massive shopping centers that feel like a maze you could get lost in for days. Parking there is usually hell, but by some miracle,

I found a spot right on the entry level. I shopped, had some lunch, picked up groceries, even... Hi, I'm Darren Marler, host of the Weird Darkness podcast. I want to talk about the most important tool in my podcast belt. Spreaker is the all-in-one platform that makes it easy to record, host, and distribute your show everywhere from Apple Podcasts to Spotify. But the real game changer for me was Spreaker's monetization. Spreaker offers dynamic ad insertion.

That means you can automatically insert ads into your episodes. No editing required. And with Spreker's programmatic ads, they'll bring the ads to you, and you get paid for every download. This turned my podcasting hobby into a full-time career. Sprinker also has a premium subscription model where your most dedicated listeners can pay for bonus content or early access, adding another revenue stream to what you're already doing. And the best part, Spreaker grows with you. Whether you're just starting out or running a full-blown podcast network, Spreeker's powerful tools scale effortlessly as your show grows.

So if you're ready to podcast like a pro and get paid while doing it, check out Spreaker.com. That's S-P-R-E-A-K-E-R.com. Treated myself to a new dress. Everything felt normal. Walking back to my car, the lot was mostly empty except for a few cars circling, hunting for spaces. I noticed a woman in the next lane over.

She had tangled, matted hair and clothes that looked like they'd been slept in for weeks. At first, I barely thought about it. People talk to themselves all the time, I do it too when I'm trying to remember a list. But then she started screaming. Not words, not sentences. Just raw, unfiltered gibberish that tore out of her throat. I turned, half concerned she might be hurt. Nope.

She was fine. Physically, at least. The problem was she was staring directly at me while she screamed, eyes locked like lasers. Seconds passed. My chest tightened. She didn't blink. Then, slowly, her mouth stretched into this grin, wide, unnatural, terrifying. the kind of grin that feels like it doesn't belong on a human face.

And then she ran at me. Full sprint. For what felt like forever, but was probably only three seconds, I was frozen. My brain couldn't process it fast enough. Then instinct took over. I bolted to my car, threw my bags inside so hard I cracked a carton of eggs, and slammed the door just as she slammed into it. She pounded her fists against the glass, screaming, yanking at the handles like she wanted to rip the doors open with her bare hands.

My heart hammered so fast I thought I was going to die of cardiac arrest right there. I reversed so quickly I didn't care if I hit anything, or anyone. She didn't fall, though. Instead, she climbed onto my trunk, pounding at the back window. I drove forward, shaking, and she jumped off. chasing me through the levels of the parking garage. She kept coming, screaming, grinning. It wasn't until I got far enough ahead that she disappeared from my rearview. I called the police once I was out on the street, hands trembling so badly I could barely dial.

They said they'd check it out, but of course, they didn't find her. People like that slip away into cracks. My boyfriend, bless him, joked about replacing the eggs, but I could. couldn't laugh. My body was still buzzing with the leftover adrenaline hours later. And because life likes to make themes out of our experiences, there's another memory that sticks out, one from over a decade ago, back when I was an undergrad working as a pharmacy tech. At that job, you got used to regulars. Some were sweet, some were grumpy, some were just part of the wallpaper of your daily shift. Then there was Joe. Joe was in his mid-30s, with long, straggly hair and outfits that looked like they'd been chosen in a fever dream.

Sometimes he'd wear layers of mismatched clothes in the middle of summer, other times he'd show up in a shirt so thin it was practically falling apart. He was sweet, though, always polite, always gentle, but you could tell something was off. He was sick, mentally and physically. He had prescriptions for everything, antipsychotics, and antidepressants, anti-anxiety meds. A cocktail that screamed, this guy's brain is a battlefield. Despite it all, he'd come in smiling, chatting about nonsense, grateful for every interaction. Customers like him made me realize how thin the line is between being okay and not being okay.

Working there, I learned to see the humanity in people like Joe, the same way I wish more people had seen the warning signs in Rhee, or the desperate pain in that screaming woman at Westfield. Not to excuse them, but to understand just how fragile people can be. And how dangerous. Looking back across all these moments, Hi, I'm Darren Marler, host of the Weird Darkness podcast. I want to talk about the most important tool in my podcast belt. Sfreaker is the all-in-one platform that makes it easy to record, host and distribute your show everywhere from Apple Podcasts to Spotify. But the real game changer for me was Spreeker's monetization.

Spreaker offers dynamic ad insert insert ads into your episodes. No editing required. And with Spreker's programmatic ads, they'll bring the ads to you, and you get paid for every download. This turned my podcasting hobby into a full-time career. Sprinker also has a premium subscription model where your most dedicated listeners can pay for bonus content or early access, adding another revenue. stream to what you're already doing. And the best part, Spreaker grows with you. Whether you're just starting out or running a full-blown podcast network, Sprinker's powerful tools scale effortlessly as your show grows. So if you're ready to podcast like a pro and get paid while doing it, check out

spreeker.com. That's S-P-R-E-A-K-E-R.com. V, the Sydney woman, Joe, I see a thread. Madness isn't always loud or obvious. Sometimes it whispers, sometimes it whispers, sometimes it smiles, sometimes it offers you gifts. And sometimes, it sprints at you in a parking lot with a grin that doesn't belong. I've learned to trust my gut, to keep moving forward even when my legs feel frozen, to run when running is the only option. And I've learned this, people don't always show you their madness until you're already too close. To be continued.