Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Home Invasions, Obsessions, and Stalkers True Terrifying Encounters in Suburbia PART2 #64

Episode Date: November 4, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truehorrorstories #suburbanhorror #homeinvasiontales #stalkerencounters #obsessionhorror  Part 2 delves deeper into terrifying suburban encounters, where the illusion of safety shatters. Obsessive strangers, intruders who cross every boundary, and stalkers who won’t let go turn peaceful neighborhoods into hunting grounds. These chilling stories reveal how the most ordinary places can hide extraordinary dangers, leaving residents trapped in real-life nightmares.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truehorrorstories, suburbanencounters, homeinvasionstories, stalkerexperience, obsessionstories, creepyencounters, unsettlingmoments, chillingstories, terrifyingencounters, realhorrorstories, survivalmoments, spookytales, nightmarestories, creepyexperiences

The visitor in the dark. The idea that Amanda could have been inside our house, hiding in plain sight, just a few steps away from us, had never crossed my parents' minds. Honestly, it hadn't crossed mine either. But the cop who came by that day, she had instincts sharper than any of us. Something about Amanda's disappearance didn't sit right with her, so she decided to check the house. And she was right. She started with John's room. My brother wasn't home at the time, so his bed should have been empty.

But it wasn't. It didn't take her long to pull back the covers and find Amanda curled up underneath them. And she wasn't just hiding. She was completely naked, wrapped up in his blankets like she belonged there. Her clothes? Not in the room. The officer found them later, tossed carelessly down in the basement, hidden in a corner.

Amanda had stripped everything off, stuffed it away, and then crawled into John's bed hours before. Hours. Long enough that when I was sitting just feet away from her, headset on, controller in hand, locked into a halo match, I had no idea she was under the blankets above me. The thought still makes my stomach twist. Apparently, when everyone left the house to search for her,

she had gotten bold. At some point she crept upstairs, naked, convinced she could surprise John when he came back. Looking back, I can only chalk it up to a full-on breakdown. Amanda must have thought seducing him was the only way to get him back, the only way to make him stay. It's disturbing, sure, but I also can't help but feel sorry for her. Imagine being so lost in your own head that sneaking naked into someone's bed seems like a good idea. From what I hear nowadays, Amanda's married. She's got a kid, maybe two by now. She lives in another town, and life has apparently settled down for her. I genuinely hope that's true, because I wouldn't wish that kind of mental spiral on anyone. John, on the other hand,

has never been quite the same since. That day, after the whole ordeal, he bummed the cigarette off Stephen. He'd never smoked before, but in the aftermath of Amanda's little stunt, he lit up like he'd been doing it his whole life. Now he's a full-blown chronic smoker. He likes to joke that if he ever ends up with lung cancer, he's blaming Amanda. A messed up joke, sure, but that's John's way of coping. For me, the memory hits different. It's not funny, not even a little. It's the kind of thing that sneaks into your mind late at night,

making your skin prickle and your gut churn like you're about to throw up. The realization that someone was literally a few feet away from me, watching, waiting, hidden, while I was completely oblivious. That haunts me. And the truth is, Amanda hadn't meant me any harm. She wasn't planning to hurt me. But what if her intentions had been darker? What if instead of crawling under John's covers,

she had decided to mess with me while I was gaming. I would have never seen it coming. That incident was enough to permanently change how we treated home security. No more unlocked doors, no more garage shortcuts, no more trusting that nothing bad could happen in our quiet neighborhood. We bought locks, cameras, alarms, the whole deal. Privacy, once violated, is something you can never really get back. But that wasn't. It wasn't the last time my sense of safety got shredded.

Because a year or so later, something else happened. I was about 12, maybe 12 and a half. My dad was working graveyard shifts back then, and my mom, well, she wasn't in the picture. It was just me and him. And since it was the weekend, I got to stay up later than usual. turned into one in the morning, and by the time I was winding down, Dad had already left for work. Before heading out, he told me to lock the doors. I did, just like he asked. Checked the front, the back, even gave the garage door a tug to make sure it was shut. Satisfied, I headed to my

room and crashed into bed. For about an hour, everything was fine. Peaceful. Then came the knocking. At first it was soft, distant, and my half-a-sleep brain told me I must be dreaming. But the sound came again, sharper this time. Someone was knocking at the back door. I sat up in bed, heart-thumping, trying to process it. My first thought was that maybe Dad had come home early. Maybe his shift had been cut short. It made sense in a way. But then I remembered, had a key. He never forgot it. Why would he be knocking? I hesitated, straining my ears. The knocking stopped. I let out a shaky breath, convincing myself it had been nothing. And then, knock, knock, knock, this time from the kitchen window. I froze. My skin went cold. Dad?

I whispered to myself, even though I knew he couldn't hear me. If it was him, why wasn't he using the door? Why wasn't he calling my phone? My gut twisted with dread, but I clung to the hope that it was my father. Because the alternative, that it was someone else, was too terrifying to accept. But deep down, I knew. The knocking moved again, shifting from window to a window to a moment. window. Slow, deliberate. Whoever it was, they were circling the house, testing. My chest

tightened with every thud. It wasn't just knocking anymore either. It was louder, harder, like they wanted to rattle me. I couldn't bring myself to move. I sat there in bed, paralyzed, every nerve screaming. My mind raced with possibilities. Should I call dad? The cops, should I hide in the closet? Run out the front door. Every option felt like it ended badly. The sound grew closer. One window, then another, moving around toward my side of the house.

I realized with horror that they were heading toward my bedroom window. And the curtains, oh God, the curtains, were practically see-through. I didn't even have time to think. Because suddenly, there he was. A tall figure, looming outside, face obscured by a mask. And he was staring right at me. To be continued.