Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Creepy Encounters on Farms and Ranches Terrifying Stories of Dangerous Strangers PART1 #46

Episode Date: October 13, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #farmhorrorstories #ranchhorrorstories #dangerousstrangers #creepyencounters #realhorrorstories  Part 1 explores unsettling incidents on farms and ranches, highlighting the isolation and vulnerability that make rural encounters particularly frightening. From suspicious strangers lurking nearby to outright threatening behavior, these stories show the real dangers that can emerge in places people often consider safe.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, farmhorrorstories, ranchhorrorstories, dangerousstrangers, creepyencounters, realhorrorstories, unsettlingstories, frighteningexperiences, nightmarefuel, survivalstories, fearstories, darktales, shockingencounters, realcreepystories, ruralhorror

Horror. Number three, the creepy roommate story. All right, so let me rewind back to 2012, which feels like a lifetime ago now. At that time, I was with my girlfriend, we'd been together for a while, and like a lot of couples in their mid-20s, we had this itch for adventure. Instead of doing the sensible thing like saving money or thinking about buying a house, we decided, hey, let's pack everything we own into a car and just drive across the continent for a year. It was supposed to be this big, epic road trip, the kind of thing you look back on when you're old and think, damn, I actually lived a little. We weren't exactly rolling in money, so we had to be smart about it. We did this thing called woofing, which basically meant working on farms in exchange

for a place to sleep and food to eat. We'd pick vegetables, feed animals, sometimes fix fences, sometimes just do odd jobs. It wasn't glamorous, but it kept us moving, and we got to see a whole bunch of places most people just fly over. The plan was simple. Spend the better part of a year zigzagging across the states, then head up into Canada and cross from west to east, eventually landing back in Nova Scotia, where we were living at the time. For the most part, things went smoothly. We met cool people, saw some amazing landscapes, ate way too much diner food, and basically just existed on the road. At some point along the way, though, and this is where the story starts getting interesting, we decided to adopt a puppy. Now, getting a dog while you're

traveling in a car and living out of farmhouses and random people's spare rooms is not exactly the smartest move. But in our defense, we fell in love with this little fur ball. He was clumsy, had paws too big for his body, and looked at us with these big brown eyes that said, please take me with you. So, yeah, we caved. Suddenly, our road trip wasn't just about two people. It was about three. And let me tell you, traveling with a puppy adds a whole new layer of chaos. Extra food, extra mess, extra stops. Totally worth it though. Fast forward a few months. We're somewhere in Alberta, which is basically the big, empty middle chunk of Canada. We'd been on the road for so long that our bank account was starting to look a little depressing. Groceries, gas,

random emergencies, it all adds up. We weren't broke yet, but we could see that we were heading in that direction. And with a dog now, we couldn't just wing it. We needed a more stable setup, at least for a while. That's when I came up with the plan. Find a short-term rental, get a job for a couple of months, save some money, then hit the road again. Since I was a carpenter, I figured landing a job wouldn't be too hard. People always need stuff built, fixed, or renovated, right? So we hopped online and started browsing Kijiji, which, if you don't know, is basically Canada's version of Craigslist. You can find everything on there, jobs, cars, apartments, maybe even your future ex-roommate. After scrolling through dozens of terrible ads,

one caught our eye. Some guy was looking for a roommate to split the bills. He had this big, kind of rustic looking house out in the countryside, which sounded perfect since I had already spotted a construction job nearby. The location was great, the rent was cheap, and he seemed eager to have someone move in. We emailed him, explain the situation that I'd be working and my girlfriend would mostly stay home with the puppy, and he responded quickly, saying it sounded good to him. We'd been traveling long enough that trusting strangers had kind of become second nature. That's one of the weird things about long trips. You'll lose a little bit of that natural suspicion because you have to rely on people. You crash on couches, you accept rides,

you eat food that someone you barely know cooked. 99% of the time, it's fine, people are good. But that other 1%, well, that's where the trouble is. Anyway, desperate to settle somewhere before we completely ran out of money, we agreed. He asked for a deposit, which in hindsight should have been a red flag, but we were like, sure, why not? We wired him the money and planned to move in. A few days later, we pulled up to the place.

It was exactly as he described. Big house, middle and nowhere, no neighbors for miles. At first, it felt kind of cool, like we had stumbled onto a hidden gem. But then the guy opened the door, and immediately I felt this vibe. You know that feeling you get when someone looks normal enough, but something about them just doesn't sit right? That was him. He was maybe early 30s, small build, kind of wiry.

He looked like your typical country dude, someone who probably fixed his own truck and drank cheap beer. But his face, man, his expression was weird. He looked nervous, almost scared, but also ashamed, like he had been caught doing something bad, even though we had just arrived. It was unsettling. Still, he was polite enough. He let us bring our dog inside, which was cool, though I thought it was strange that his own dog wasn't allowed in the house. This is Northern Canada we're talking about. It gets cold. Why wouldn't you let your dog inside? That struck me as odd. but I didn't press it. That first night, he invited us to have a few drinks with him.

We didn't want to be rude, so we agreed. He brought out a couple of cheap, watery beers and sat across the table from us, sipping slowly, like he wasn't sure if he should even be there. We tried to make small talk, asking about his life, his job, his hobbies. His answers were short, mumbled, like he wanted friends but had no idea how to actually interact with people. Then he laid down some house rules. Rule number one, stay out of his bedroom. Fair enough.

Rule number two, don't go into the basement. Weird, but okay. Rule number three, stay away from the barn. That's when alarm bell started ringing in my head. I mean, come on, who tells you not to go into the barn? Instantly, my brain started imagining the worst. Headlines flashed through my mind. Young couple found murdered, bodies discovered bound in barn.

That night, I barely saw. slept. My girlfriend was calm, maybe too calm. She wasn't worried at all, and I didn't want to seem controlling or paranoid, but deep down I knew something was off. The way he looked at us, the secrecy, the rules, it didn't add up. The next morning, I heard his truck pull out of the driveway. He left early, probably for work. My curiosity got the better of me. I had to see what was in that basement. I crept downstairs, heart-pounding like I was in some low-budget horror movie. At first glance, it was normal, washer, dryer, a couple of old lawn chairs, but then I noticed a closet.

I opened it, and that's when things got really messed up. Inside was a strange nurse's outfit, clearly not for Halloween, but for something sexual. Next to it was a roll of duct tape, a pair of handcuffs, a shotgun, and a box of shells. All together, neatly placed on the same shelf, like some kind of six starter kit. I didn't waste a second. I ran upstairs, shook my girlfriend awake, and told her flat out. We're leaving. No discussion.

Pack your stuff, grab the dog, we're gone before this guy comes back. She was groggy and confused, but she saw the look on my face and didn't argue. We packed up, jumped in the car, and drove away without looking back. Later, we sent him a message saying one of our family members had gotten sick and we had to move back home. It was a lie, but it was better than telling the truth. He never offered to refund our money, and honestly, I didn't care. Losing a deposit was nothing compared to the alternative. To this day, I've never heard about him in the news.

No murder stories, no missing persons, nothing. But I can't shake the feeling that something bad was going on in that house. My ex thinks I was just paranoid, but her parents actually thanked me for trusting my gut. And still, every once in a while, I catch myself wondering what was in that barn. To be continued.