Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Haunting True Horror Tales Masked Strangers, Forest Killers, and Creepy Encounters PART2 #84

Episode Date: November 16, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truehorrorstories #forestkillers #creepyencounters #darktales #chillingevents  Part 2 dives deeper into terrifying true horror experiences, exploring encounters with forest killers, masked strangers, and eerie situations that push victims to the edge. These stories highlight how quickly ordinary moments can turn into nightmares filled with fear, tension, and suspense. Each tale exposes the hidden darkness in unexpected places and reminds readers that danger can lurk just out of sight, waiting for the unprepared.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, forestkillers, maskedstrangers, creepyencounters, realhorrorstories, darktales, unsettlingexperiences, chillingevents, nightmarerealities, suspensefultales, frighteningtruths, hauntingstories, terrifyingmoments, shockingencounters, unnervingstories

All right, so let me rewind this whole thing and start from the beginning, because this isn't just a short spooky encounter. This is one of those nights that ends up branded in your brain like a scar you can't rub out. And since you asked me to tell it in detail, I'm going to give you every sound, every little detail of what was going through my head, and everything that came after. You might want to grab a drink, because this one's not going to be short. So, my boyfriend and I had just made this huge leap in our lives. After years of scraping, saving, dreaming, and fighting with the bank, we finally bought our first house. We had been dating five years, and we'd made the move from Iowa down to this small town

in Texas, close enough to both of our families so we wouldn't be completely isolated. The house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, the kind where the road just kind of circles into itself, and right behind the property was this massive open field that stretched back into a wall of trees. No neighbors peeking out behind us, no fences rattling from next door kids kicking soccer balls around. Just us, the house, the dogs, and that endless stretch of field. I remember the first night we unlocked that door and stood inside, it felt like a dream. Our own place. Our start. We brought along our two dogs who are basically our babies. If you've got dogs, you know how it is, they're not pets, their family members with their own weird little quirks, and ours are no exception.

They bark at delivery drivers, lose their minds if someone rings the doorbell, and, something I didn't pay enough attention to, they act extra nervous whenever my boyfriend isn't home at night. Sometimes they'll just bark into the empty darkness, and no matter how long I've had them, it still gets under my skin. Anyway, my boyfriend had plans one evening. He'd been getting to know his new co-workers, and they invited him to go out into the city, which was about a 35-minute drive. I wasn't feeling it. I'm introverted by nature, and the idea of crowded bars or loud restaurants makes my skin crawl. Plus, him being out gave me the perfect excuse to do what I love, barricade myself in the bedroom,

cuddle up with the dogs and binge watch the kind of cheesy horror movies that he can't stand. Seriously, this man can sit through an entire football game without blinking, but the second you put on an 80s slasher flick, he acts like I'm torturing him. So that night, I stocked up. I'd stopped at the grocery store around six, picked up some snacks, grabbed a couple sodas, and got everything ready for my little solo horror marathon. I closed the bedroom door, locked it, because why not, and stacked pillows around myself like a fortress. I even left the lights low so the TV glow would make the room feel like

a mini-theater. The dog settled in with me, one curled at my feet, the other planted firmly by the window like a furry little guard. Now, here's a detail you need to remember, the bedroom had one window, right next to the bed. It was low to the ground, so if some someone was outside, they could easily crouch and peer in. Normally I liked sleeping with the window open a crack to let the air in, but that night I had it only slightly cracked, enough for some air but not wide open. Small detail, big difference. Fast forward to about 11 o'clock.

I'm halfway through some ridiculous horror flick where the villain looks like he bought his mask from a party store clearance rack. I'm laughing at how fake it looks when the dogs start barking. Not just a couple of barks, full-on, frody, angry barking. I rolled my eyes, told them to shut up, and grabbed the remote to pause the movie. Just in case, I clicked on the outside light and peeked around the window. Nothing. The field looked empty, the yard was quiet, no shadows moving.

I sighed, turned the light off, and sat back down. The barking stopped for maybe two minutes. then it started again louder sharper this time they wouldn't quit no matter how many times I hissed at them to chill out something in their tone made my stomach twist dogs have this way of knowing things things you don't see or hear right away so against every horror movie lesson I've ever laughed at I leaned over and peeked out the window again that's when I saw them at first it didn't even register what I was looking at just a shape at the bottom of the window then as my eyes adjusted I realized it was a pair of eyes just eyes no nose no mouth nothing else

visible whoever it was they were crouching low their face pressed close enough to the window that all I could see were those eyes staring straight into me my first thought and I'm almost embarrassed to admit it, was that it had to be my boyfriend. He's pulled little pranks before, sneaking up and making noises just to freak me out. So I laughed nervously and said, Calvin, you're dumb. Seriously. Not funny. The eyes didn't blink. They didn't move away. They just stared. My laughter cracked, turned into something forced. Hardy-har. Really? Stop it. You're freaking out the dogs.

But the eyes didn't leave. Instead, they began to rise. Slowly, steadily, until whoever it was stood at full height outside the window. And in that instant, I knew, this was not my boyfriend. This person was taller, broader, and the energy coming off them wasn't playful. It was dark. Wrong. Every ounce of bravado I'd built up from watching horror movies evaporated in that moment. I thought I'd be the kind of person who could handle myself in a scary situation.

Turns out. Not even close. I froze. Couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Just sat there, staring back, my heart hammering so hard I thought it would wake the whole neighborhood. The figure kept watching me. Just standing there, locked in this silent standoff. My brain finally screamed at me to do something, and my hands fumbled blindly for my phone on the nightstand. I found it, unlocked it, and forced my voice to work. Hey!

Get the hell out of here! I'm calling the cops. They didn't move. Didn't flinch. Didn't even seem to kill. care. My fingers shook as I punched 9-1-1. The operator answered, and I started stammering, trying to explain that there was someone outside my window. While I spoke, there was this sharp sound, a tap against the glass. I turned my head, and my blood ran cold. The stranger was

holding a knife. A big kitchen knife. He tapped it against the window again, slow and deliberate, and then, as if savoring the moment, his mouth stretched into a smile. Not a friendly smile. Not a sheepish, gotcha. It was slow, calculated, and sadistic. The kind of smile that makes you feel like prey. I nearly dropped the phone, but the operator kept talking, telling the officers were on the way. The figure must have known too, because he took one deliberate step back.

Then another. and another. Each step was slow, intentional, like he wanted me to watch every second. He never broke eye contact. Not once. When he reached the fence, he climbed over it in one smooth motion. Before he disappeared completely, he paused, leaned back just enough to let me see his face one last time, and then he was gone. Vanished into the night. The police showed up maybe ten minutes later, but by then he was long gone. No footprints, no broken branches, no knife left behind.

Nothing. Just empty air and my rattled nerves. That night broke something in me. Before, I'd been fine staying home alone. I loved it, actually. Now, I can't stand it. I hear creaks, shadows move, and my dog's barking sets off full-blown panic attacks.

I'll admit it openly, I was terrified. Still am, honestly. People have asked me since if I'm sure it really happened. If maybe I dreamed it or if my brain twisted shadows into something worse. I've thought about that too. The mind is powerful and fear can play tricks. But when I think back on those eyes, that knife, that smile, I know what I saw was real. My dad used to tell me when I was a kid, don't waste your time fearing ghosts.

Fear the living. They're the ones who can hurt you. He was right. That night proved it. And here's the part that ties everything together, a few years later, after my dad passed away, he took his own life, which shattered me in ways I'm still piecing together, I inherited some money. Enough to take a break from work and clear my head.

My parents had owned this little cabin up in Oregon, near Mount Bachelor. After Dad died, Mom couldn't keep up the payments and was in the process of selling it. The paperwork wasn't finalized yet, and for that short window of time, the cabin was vacant. I saw it as an opportunity. A chance to escape, breathe, and maybe stop looking over my shoulder every five seconds. So I packed up my snowboarding gear, grabbed my dog, and took Dad. old car, which he left me in his will. I didn't even bother checking in with the rental company that usually managed the place. I had the keys, I knew the alarm codes, it was our cabin.

Or at least it had been. I told myself I was going to the cabin to heal, to relax, to find some peace. But deep down, I think I also went looking for answers. To see if that fear was going to follow me everywhere, or if maybe, just maybe, I could leave it behind in Texas. To be continued.