Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Chilling True Stories of Stalkers, Break-Ins, and Creepy Encounters That Haunt Forever PART2 #18

Episode Date: October 20, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #stalkerencounters #breakinhorror #creepytrueevents #hauntingstories #truefear  Part 2 of Chilling True Stories of Stalkers, Break-Ins, and Creepy Encounters That Haunt Forever continues the spine-chilling narratives. Real-life accounts of stalking, home invasions, and unsettling encounters escalate the tension. These stories reveal how quickly everyday life can become terrifying, leaving lasting emotional scars and demonstrating that danger can strike unexpectedly.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, stalkerencounters, breakinhorror, creepytrueevents, hauntingstories, truefear, unsettlingencounters, chillingmoments, realfearstories, darkencounters, nightmarefuel, homeintruders, urbanhorror, fearinthehome, terrifyingtrueevents

Horror. Creeps, pools, and the knock at the window. All right, so picture this. I'm hiding in my closet like some paranoid survivalist, clutching a kitchen knife like I'm auditioning for a low-budget horror film. My brain was racing, but my logic at the time seemed solid enough. If those two lunatics outside were going to smash their way into my house, at least they wouldn't find me immediately. The plan was simple. Let them break in, let them wander around. looking for me, then I'd launch myself out of the shadows like some closet-dwelling ninja and hopefully scare them off, or at least protect myself. Not exactly the most bulletproof plan, but when you're running on adrenaline at three in the morning, your options feel limited.

So there I was, crouched in the dark, knife in hand, heart pounding so loudly I was convinced they could hear it through the walls. Minutes dragged by like hours. Every little creek of the house made me flinch. The air was heavy with that suffocating silence that only shows up when you're convinced danger is right outside. Two hours passed, nothing. No more pounding on the door, no more laughter, no footsteps crunching in the gravel outside. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier, until, eventually, against all logic, I actually drifted off to sleep right there in my closet, knife still in my sweaty grip. That's when I heard it. A sound so soft and delicate at first that I wasn't sure if it was real, or just the tail end of a dream.

Tap, tap, tap. I froze. It was coming from my bedroom window. Now, my bedroom is on the first floor, which, unfortunately, makes it way too easy to reach from the backyard. The lights were off, but a sliver of moonlight crept in through the blinds, and that's when I forced myself against every screaming instinct in my body. to creep toward the sound. My feet were like lead, my breathing shallow. Slowly, carefully, I pushed one of the blinds aside just enough. And there she was. The same woman who had been pounding on my front door

hours earlier. Only this time, her face was inches from mine, separated only by a thin sheet of glass. She wasn't even looking directly at me. Her eyes were unfocused, glazed, like she was in some kind of trance, but her finger was tapping rhythmically against the glass. Tap, tap, tap. My stomach flipped, my brain screamed, don't let her see you, don't move, don't breathe. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement further back in the yard, and that's when I noticed him. The man, her partner, and he was completely naked. I kid you not, this dude was stark naked, running around my backyard like a lunatic, and to make it even weirder, he was doing cannonballs into my swimming pool, at three in the damn morning. The sheer absurdity of it short-circuited my fear for a second. Without

thinking, I shouted through the window, hey, get the hell out of my pool. My voice snapped the woman's attention right to me. Suddenly, her unfocused stare sharpened and our eyes locked. Inches apart, glass between us, she broke into the scary, smile I have ever seen in my life. Her lips stretched unnaturally wide, her teeth flashing in the dim light, and then, God help me, she started giggling. That giggle. I'll never forget it. High-pitched, twitchy, unhinged, like nails on a chalkboard mixed with the soundtrack of a nightmare. I lost it. I grabbed my phone and dialed 911, practically yelling into the receiver that some drugged-up maniacs were in my backyard, that I was terrified for my life, that I needed cops right now.

The dispatcher tried to keep me calm, but my hands were shaking so bad I could barely hold the phone steady. I bolted to the bathroom, locked the door, and sat there in the dark, knife in one hand, phone in the other, waiting for the moment they'd smash through the window and come after me. I kept imagining that classic, Here's Johnny scene from the Shining, where Jack Nicholson busts through the bathroom door with that insane grin, I half expected the doorknob to start rattling any second. Minutes crawled by. Then my phone buzzed. The dispatcher said the cops were outside. Relief washed over me, but when I peeked out the bathroom window, the yard was empty. The cops circled the property, checked the alley, the street, everything. No sign of the man or the woman.

Just gone. Like they'd vanished into thin air. The next day, I stepped outside to find neighborhood watch flyers taped to mailboxes and lampposts all over the block. The headline made my stomach churn. Warning. 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 Spreaker'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, Sprieker's powerful tool, 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 dot com. Ring of home invasions, six houses hit in three nights, four dogs attacked. I felt sec. Those two psychos weren't just harmless weirdos, they were dangerous. My spine tingled, every hair on the back of my neck standing straight up. But weirdly enough, that was the last time I ever saw them. They never came back. Maybe the cops scared them off, maybe they moved on to another neighborhood. Who knows? Either way, that night changed me. The very next day,

I went full paranoid homeowner mode, installed a full alarm system, bought a handgun, set up motion-activated lights all around the backyard. From then on, I actually slept pretty well, knowing I had some defenses in place. But the look on that woman's face, the way her smile stretched too wide, the way her eyes lit up when she realized I was there, yeah, that still crawls into my nightmare sometimes. Another hotel pool story. Fast forward a few years. Different place, different situation, but still one of those memories that makes my skin crawl whenever I think back on it. I was about 12 or 13 at the time, staying at this hotel with my parents, my aunt, my uncle, and my cousin, Lizzie, who's a year older than me. The kind of family trip that's supposed to be boring,

but safe, you know, parents handle the boring coffee-drinking adult stuff, kids get to mess around in the pool and eat too much junk food. This particular night, our parents decided they wanted some grown-up time at a cafe in the lobby. Now, this wasn't one of those compact little hotels where everything's in one building. Nope, this place was spread out across several buildings, connected by courtyards and hallways. The cafe was several buildings away from ours, which meant Lizzie and I had the run of our building for a couple of hours.

Naturally, the first thing we did was throw on our swimsuits and head straight for the pool. At first, everything was perfect. The water was warm, the air smelled faintly of chlorine, and the stars were shining bright overhead. Lizzie and I were splashing around, catching up on school gossip, talking about crushes and silly little dramas. Eventually, we just floated on our backs, staring up at the sky. I was feeling playful, so, without even looking over at her, I said in this exaggerated, goofy voice,

wow, it's really nice out, huh? I expected her to laugh. Instead, I heard a man's chuckle. Instantly, my whole body went rigid. I sat up so fast I almost almost. I almost. I was just said up so fast I almost splashed water into my own nose. My face burned red with embarrassment. I hadn't realized I had drifted away from Lizzie and floated right next to some random guy. He was probably in his early 20s, sitting casually at the edge of the pool. And the smile he gave me? Creepy, way too interested for someone his age talking to a 13-year-old kid. Being shy and awkward, I gave a nervous little laugh, then bolted back over to Lizzie like my life depended on it. She was cracking up, of course.

Ooh, who's your new boyfriend? She teased, splashing me. I wanted to sink into the pool and disappear. I tried to ignore him, but Lizzie noticed something I didn't. She leaned closer and whispered, uh, he's still watching us. I glanced over. Sure enough, he was sitting there, eyes locked on us,

this weird little smile plastered on his face. Lizzie tried to play it cool. Don't look at him. Just ignore him. Trust me, I know about guys. The trick is to act like they don't exist. At that age, I figured she was practically an expert. She'd been to public school. I'd been homeschooled.

She'd talked to boys older than 12. I hadn't. So I mimicked her confidence and pretended like everything was fine. But my gut told me it wasn't. Maybe we should call one of our moms, I whispered. She shook her head. No, let's just go back to the room. I don't want to freak my mom out. We'll text her once we're up there. That sounded reasonable. Her mom could be terrifying when she was mad, and I didn't want to deal with that either.

So we climbed out of the pool, dried off quickly, and started putting on our shoes. I tried to keep my eyes down, but when I finally glanced back, I saw the guy standing up, slowly gathering his own things. Lizzie saw it too. Our eyes met briefly, but neither of us said anything. We just hurried toward the stairs. Halfway up, we heard footsteps behind us. I risked a glance over my shoulder. And there he was, one flight below, staring right at me with that same grin. My chest tightened.

Lizzie, I whispered. I know, she muttered, her pace quickening. Listen, let's go to the wrong floor. We can... 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...

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 Spreaker.com. That's S-P-R-E-A-K-E-R.com. Loop around and then get to our room without him knowing. Smart idea. She'd always been into mystery novels, so I trusted her little escape plan. We got off two floors early, speed walking down the hall, hearts racing. As soon as we turned a corner and were out of sight, Lizzie grabbed my hand and broke into a

sprint. I nearly tripped trying to keep up, my flip-flops slapping against the tile. And that was the first time in my young life, I felt real fear. To be continued.