Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Horrifying True Stories of Strangers Hiding Under Beds With Sinister Intentions PART1 #62

Episode Date: October 25, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #bedhidingstrangers #truestoryhorror #nightmareencounters #dangerathome #creepystories  Horrifying True Stories of Strangers Hiding Under Beds With Sinister Intentions – Part 1 reveals terrifying real-life accounts of people discovering strangers lurking in their homes. This first part explores the shock, fear, and panic victims experience when their personal spaces are invaded, highlighting the danger and unpredictability of such encounters.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, bedhidingstrangers, truestoryhorror, nightmareencounters, dangerathome, creepystories, realfearencounters, unsettlingtruestory, terrifyingrealcrime, suspensefultruestory, homeinvasionhorror, darkrealstories, frighteningtrueevents, survivalstories, chillingtruestory

Shadows at home, True Life Close Calls. It all started long before I was even born, over 20 years ago, with my mom. She worked at a local pub in a small coastal town in Western Australia, the kind of place where everybody knows everybody and fishermen make up half the regular clientele. My mom knew most of the faces that came in for a pint or a plate of fish and chips, and for the most part, it was the kind of job that felt safe, predictable, even familiar. But every now and then, someone would wander in from town, a stranger, or someone familiar from local house parties, someone who had a weird energy that made her skin crawl.

She told me about one guy in particular. She knew him from a few house parties around town. He wasn't violent or outright aggressive at first, but he had this tendency to latch onto her whenever she was working. He would hover, asking to talk, apologizing when she ignored him, only to be. to keep doing it anyway. It wasn't frightening at the time, just mildly annoying, but my mom had a sense that the guy's attention wasn't normal. One night, she finished her shift around midnight and walked home. The walk wasn't long, just a few kilometers, but at that hour, the streets were empty,

the town quiet, the ocean breeze brushing against her face. She lived with a few housemates, all guys, and usually they were sound asleep by the time she got in. She showered and went to bed, feeling a little tense but attributing it to the long shift. That's when she noticed it, her bedroom door was wide open. Normally it stayed shut. All the housemates were asleep. She tried to rationalize it, maybe the wind, maybe she hadn't shut it all the way, but something in her gut told her that this wasn't right.

She lay down in bed, trying to ignore it, but the unease didn't go away. There was this inexplicable pull, a feeling she couldn't shake. Without thinking, she leaned over and looked under the bed. And there he was, the guy from the bar. He had followed her all the way home. My mom froze, staring at him for what felt like eternity. He didn't move, didn't breathe, so still she thought he might actually be dead. calmly, she stepped out of her room and went to one of the guy's rooms to tell them,

there's a dead man under my bed. Within moments, her housemates were charging in with baseball bats. But when they reached her room, the man was halfway out the window. Somehow, he had managed to climb out, disappearing into the dark. The police were called, of course, and because he was already known to the town, they picked him up the next day. The thing that haunted my mom, and later me, was the question that never had an answer, what exactly were his intentions that night? The man received a fine and was banned from town.

My mom always said it wasn't enough. Fast forward to me, 22 years later. A year and a half ago, something happened that shook me almost as much as that incident shook my mom. I had just moved into my first apartment in Miami, still unpacking, still figuring out the layout. My apartment door had an automatic lock, which normally made me feel secure, but that day it became irrelevant. I was on the phone with my boyfriend, walking down the hallway of my apartment complex to get the mail, when I returned to my apartment and sat on the bed to open it. Distracted by our conversation, I dropped the phone, and it slid under the

bed. Leaning over to retrieve it, I froze. Someone was under my bed. My heart stopped. My mind raced. The person was lying still, back turned to me, head tucked down so I couldn't see his face. He hadn't noticed me yet. I forced myself to breathe. Rationalize, Michelle. Rationalize.

I picked up the phone. Sorry, I dropped my phone. I'm just going to take a shower and I'll call you back, I said casually, trying not to scream. The bathroom was right next to my bed, and I made a beeline for it, locked the door, turned on the shower, and jumped out the window. First floor, lucky me. My apartment was right above the street level. From my hiding spot across the street, behind a parked car, I watched the open bathroom window and entry door. I called my boyfriend, who arrived just before the police. When the cops finally entered, they emerged a few minutes later holding a thin, exhausted-looking man.

His eyes were wild, but he didn't resist. One officer stayed with me, comforting me while the other searched the apartment. They told me that he had been waiting outside my bathroom door. 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 Spreeker's monetization. Spreaker offers dynamic

ad insert 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. Spreaker 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, Spreker'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. With a kitchen knife, trying to ambush me the moment I stepped in.

Somehow, this man had slipped in while I was retrieving the mail and hid under my bed. He was taken to a mental hospital and my boyfriend moved in the very next day. Miami felt safe before that, at least to me. A chill city where nothing like this ever happened, or so I thought. But the story didn't end there. During university, I lived in an apartment about three or four miles off campus with two other guys. Both were great roommates, responsible, and generally solid people. One, though, who I'll call Will, was reckless when it came to security.

He consistently forgot to lock the door. It was a Thursday evening, and I had just gotten home from a brutal math class. Exhausted, I approached the front door, keys in hand, and it was already open. I cursed under my breath, but I was too drained to care. I went inside, noticing that neither of my roommates had returned. I dropped my bag on my bed and collapsed, letting my hand hang over the edge. Normally, I feared leaving it dangling, rats, monsters, whatever, but I didn't care that day. Then I saw something that froze me in place, movement under my bed.

My eyes widened, adrenaline surging. I swallowed my panic, swinging my hand slowly to see if I could get a better look without giving myself away. The figure under the bed was more. motionless, silent. My mind raced through every possible scenario. I whispered softly, sorry, dropped my phone, my voice trembling. But I knew I couldn't stay there. I slipped quietly to the bathroom, locked the door, and waited, heart hammering. The man turned out to be homeless, a drifter with no other intent but chaos. Police arrived shortly after, the situation

diffused, but the memory stayed with me. Every creak of the floorboard, every shadow near the bed, made my pulse spike. Looking back, I can trace this threat of terror through my life, my mom's encounter in Australia, my own in Miami, the months living with irresponsible roommates. It wasn't just coincidence, it was a pattern of vulnerability, of people exploiting moments when we felt safe and normal. The mundane, the walk home, checking may, getting comfortable in bed, became opportunities for danger. And then there's the psychological toll. After these incidents, I found myself constantly checking under beds, behind doors, even peering

into closets before sleeping. Shadows took on lives of their own, wind against the windows became footsteps, every creak a potential threat. I developed what I can only call a hyper-awareness of my surroundings, a vigilance that borders on paranoia. But it was necessary. Survival, I realized, isn't about bravery, it's about awareness. Even now, years later, I can't forget the look of that man under my bed, the chilling stillness, the intent hidden in the shadows. The world can feel safe, mundane, predictable, but it only takes a few minutes, a few missteps, for it all to unravel.

Every time I tell this story, I think of my mind. mom of the long-ago night in Western Australia. The same feelings she had, the gut twist, the instinctive fear, the adrenaline, have been passed down to me, a sort of inherited caution. It's uncanny how these experiences ripple across decades, shaping who we are and how we interact with the world. And that's the thing about incidents like these, they're not just events. They're lessons etched into your nervous system, memories you can't shake, and warnings you can't ignore. For my mom's narrow escape to my own terrifying close call, I've learned that vigilance, quick thinking, and a little bit of luck are sometimes all that stands between

you and tragedy. Even as I sit here now, recounting the details, I feel that same twinge of caution, that same muscle memory of scanning rooms before entering, checking under beds, doors, and windows. The world feels safe, but only until it's not. And when it is a, the difference between horror and survival can be measured in seconds, decisions, and sheer instinct. That's why I never let my guard down. The encounters from Australia to Miami, the quiet streets to the apartment halls, are etched into my mind. I think about them often, how quickly ordinary life can be disrupted, how fragile the line between safety and danger really is. These are the moments that define you, shape your instincts,

and imprint themselves on... 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 Spreker's monetization. Spreaker offers dynamic ad insertion. That means you can automatically 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 downfall. This turned my podcasting hobby into a full-time career. Spreaker 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, Spreeker'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 Spreker.com. That's S-P-R-E-A-K-E-R dot com.

To your consciousness forever. And maybe that's the one thing I can take away from all of this, awareness. Not fear, not paranoia, but awareness. Knowing that danger exists, that it can appear anywhere, and that the ability to act quickly, think clearly, and trust your instincts is the difference between becoming another statistic and surviving to tell the tale. Because in the end, life is messy, unpredictable and sometimes terrifying and all you can do is be ready for it to be continued