Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Home Invasions, Obsessions, and Stalkers True Terrifying Encounters in Suburbia PART3 #65

Episode Date: November 5, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truehorrorstories #suburbanhorrorstories #homeinvasionhorror #stalkerterror #obsessiontales  Part 3 concludes the terrifying suburban encounters, where home invasions, obsessions, and relentless stalkers push fear to its breaking point. These chilling true horror stories reveal how ordinary neighborhoods can become grounds for nightmares, proving that the most terrifying threats often hide just outside — or already inside — our homes.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truehorrorstories, suburbanhorror, homeinvasiontales, stalkerstories, obsessionencounters, creepyexperiences, unsettlingstories, chillingencounters, terrifyingmoments, survivalstories, spookytales, realhorrorstories, nightmarestories, creepyencounters

Shadows in the night. I froze, heart-slamming against my ribcage, when I saw the figure peering through the glass. It wasn't some shadow or trick of the moonlight, it was a man. Tall, imposing, and wearing a mask that seemed to meld into the darkness itself. I couldn't make out every detail, my room was too dim, but I could swear the mask had some kind of skull design, jagged teeth painted across the mouth area, hollow eyes painted black. He tilted his head slightly, like a predator sizing up prey, and that's when panic hit me like a freight train. I tried to scream, but nothing came out.

My throat felt like it had been glued shut. I squeezed my eyes tight and repeated over and over in my head, It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. My fingers curled under the blankets, nails digging into the mattress, trying to ground myself, trying to convince my brain that the terror. in front of me was only a dream. I opened my eyes a few seconds later, and the glass was empty. My body sagged with relief, muscles relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. My pulse slowed, and I started to breathe easier. But just as I exhaled, a whisper slithered

into the room from the darkness outside. I'm going to cut you. I froze again. My blankets became a flimsy shield against whatever nightmare had just invaded my room. I didn't move for the rest of the night. I just lay there, gripping the sheets, hoping the hours would pass and my dad would come home. I have no history of sleep paralysis or hallucinations. Nothing like that had ever happened before. And yet, that night felt absolutely real. Every shadow, every sound, every whispering wind seemed amplified, as though the world itself had slowed down just for me. It's one of those moments that stick in your memory, the kind that gnaws at the edges of your peace for years afterward. I pray I never have to face anything like that again. But as terrifying as that night was, it wasn't the start of the

strange occurrences in our neighborhood. The story begins earlier, in the fall of 2016. I live in a small, quiet neighborhood surrounded by dense forest. Our street is the kind of place where kids play until the streetlights come on, where doors are left unlocked most of the time, and the nights are eerily silent. Except that October, the house felt unusually hot for an autumn night, and my sister, ever the free spirit, decided to keep her window open to let in some fresh air. She was at her desk, scribbling away on homework, and I was upstairs getting ready for bed when she suddenly burst into my room. Her eyes were wide, frantic, and her voice trembled. I think there's someone outside. I hear leaves crunching underfoot. I tried to calm her down.

Relax, it's probably just an animal, I said, but my word sounded hollow, even to me. No, seriously. Can you just check, she demanded. So, we walked into her room and stood by the window for a few minutes, listening. The crunching sounds came again, soft at first, then louder, closer. We glanced outside, and the noise stopped abruptly, replaced by the eerie silence of the forest. Then, from somewhere deeper among the trees, the leaves rustled again, fast, as if someone, or something, was moving away from the house. That was just the beginning.

Winter arrived, bringing with its snow, the kind that muffles footsteps and makes the world feel soft and quiet. I often explored the woods behind our house during the day, climbing trees, trekking toward the open fields, leaving no path unexplored. But one winter morning changed everything. It had snowed the night before, the first snow of the season, and I was beyond excited to go out. Climbing my usual tree, I glanced around, taking in the crisp whiteness. But then something caught my eye on the ground, footprints. At first, I assumed they were mine, or maybe a neighbor's dog had wandered through. But the pattern was too strange, too deliberate.

The footprints led away from our house, and then, as I followed them, they curved back, pointing directly at our front door. I traced them to the point where the path ended at an old, rusty wire fence. The prince disappeared there, as though whoever had made them had vanished into thin air. Looking back now, those first two incidents, the fall-crunching sounds and the mysterious footprints, were clear foreshadowing of something more sinister to come. Fast forward to October 2017. Another black, moonless night.

I was lying in bed, the blankets pulled tight around me, when I heard the first sound that made my blood run cold, the doorknob rattling. My bedroom door, always shut at night, began to slowly creak open. My heart stopped. I knew immediately it wasn't my sister. It wasn't my parents. Panic gripped me like icy fingers. I froze, straining to hear, every nerve screaming. The door opened fully, and for a moment, nothing happened.

Silence stretched thick and heavy across the room. I fumbled for my phone and shot a text to my sister. Did you just come into my room? Her reply came almost instantly, No, I'm in Healyard right now. That's when the reality hit me. Someone else was in the house. I slipped my hand under the pillow and wrapped my fingers around nightstick I kept there. I texted my dad, my fingers shaking, someone is in the house.

He came running within minutes, a knife in hand. Lights flicked on. I jumped from my bed, ready to fight, but there was nothing. No one. Every room was empty. Every closet checked. Doors and windows locked. Alarm set. And yet, someone had been in my room. Living out here in the woods, we sometimes forget the basics. Windows left open, doors unlocked, a driveway that fades into the darkness of the forest. Someone had used that lapse to get inside. I didn't connect the dots at the time, but in hindsight, it was all part of a pattern. December 2017 brought yet another chilling moment.

Relatives were staying in our basement, and we had armed the house security alarm that night. I was gaming, lost in the screen's glow, when around 2.30 to 3 a.m., my uncle awoke with an uneasy feeling, the kind that crawls up your spine and refuses to leave. He swore he could feel eyes on him. As his vision adjusted to the dark, he saw a figure outside the ground window by the basement. A scrawny man with long, flowing hair, shivering from the wind, peering in like he belonged there. My uncle yelled and the figure vanished into the night, swallowed by shadows. It didn't stop there.

To be continued.