Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - I Broke into the Hawthorne House and Unleashed Something That Should Stay Buried #70

Episode Date: August 7, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #hawthornehorror #hauntedhouse #unleashedevil #paranormal #darksecrets  After breaking into the abandoned Hawthorne House, the narrator accidentally unleashes a malevolent entity that should have stayed buried. The story follows the terrifying consequences and the fight to survive the unleashed darkness.  horrorstories reddithorrorstories scarystories horrorstory creepypasta horrortales hawthornehorror hauntedhouse unleashedevil paranormal darksecrets ghoststory supernatural terror creepy suspense thriller

There's so much rugby on Sports Extra from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter Sports Extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time, we've been every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup, and much more. Thus the URC and all the best European rugby all in the same place.

Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra. Jampack with rugby. Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Standard Pressing applies after 12 months for the terms apply. Collini, did you know if your age between 25 and 65?

Well, you can get a free HPV cervical check. It's one of the best ways to protect yourself from cervical cancer. And you know what? I actually checked only recently when mine was due and no exaggeration. It took me less than five minutes. You go online to hsec.com slash cervical check. But in your PPS number, shake in the date of birth. And then they tell you when your next appointment is due.

Oh my God. I know. I know. And you can check you're on the register on the website so you can phone [phone]. If your test is due today, you can book today are hscccccc. i.e. 4 slash servical check. The house sat alone at the edge of town, lit by golden windows and a tasteful porch lantern. It belonged to the hawthorns.

They were the kind of family people named buildings after. Wealthy. Well liked. I actually used to be friends with one of their kids back during grade school. Unfortunately, life for me didn't go as swimmingly. And although I'd never broken into a home I'd once been invited to, jobs around Rinnville were fleeting, and I needed a bigger score than usual to carry me out of this town. And it's not my fault. No. The Hawthorns were the ones who basically killed Rindville. They had stock in every business that started here, tech startups, green energy projects,

even a dam-s syrup bottling plant. They were globally recognized before their stupid divorce and the disappearance of Mrs. Hawthorne shortly after. It was easy to assume that was Mr. Hawthorne's doing, but she was one of 17 who went missing that month. Sixteen of them had no ties to the man at all. So he took his kids and left. Business followed him. And what little industry had taken root here dried up and blew away like everything else. The most stable job now is at the dollar store.

It's a great, quiet place for hunting cabins. But those of us who live here, we have a 45-minute commute to stock shelves at Walmart. But you already know the upside, they hardly ever visit their old home. Maybe a few days every couple of months. And it's only ever Mr. Hawthorne. Outside of that, the house is patrolled by two security guards, which used to worry me. But it's clear they're not actually doing full sweeps.

Just two lazy men with sidearms who get paid to lounge in a mansion and look intimidating. I mean, who would break into a house with security vehicles parked out front? right. Well, when you watch the place for half a year, you notice things. Seven out of eight security cameras have red lights. Three of those have ivy or spiderwebs obscuring their lenses. The same porch lights been flickering since February. The back patio entrance. Basic pin tumbler lock. Child's play. But what caught my eye, what really lingered, were the windows. The east side of the basement has two narrow rectangular windows, just above ground level. Not only are they locked, but nailed shut, thick, black iron nails sunk into the brick. And those same two windows.

The room behind them only lit up twice in six months. Both times when Mr. Hawthorne was in town. The room containing the only thing valuable enough for the pompous billionaire prick to come back to town. Two weeks ago, there were no lights. No guards awake. No hawthorns. I'd made my decision. I rounded through the woods in a wide arc to reach a small hole I'd cut into the fence months ago, hidden behind a few overgrown bushes. The grass was damp, but the air was still. I crept along the perimeter until I reached the blind spot of the one security camera without a red light, just in case it still had power. From there, it was only a few careful shuffles to the left before I ducked under the patio. I knelt in the shadows and planted my

Wi-Fi jammer, flicked it on, and tuned the frequency. It wouldn't reach the cameras in front, but it would be enough to scramble the feeds and alerts tied to the three back exits I'd been casing for months, a tight escape net if things went wrong. I chose the sliding glass patio door over the garage side entrance. Both were near staircases, but this one led toward the kitchen and living room, then the basement door beyond that. The garage entrance connected too closely to the bedrooms. I figured if the guards were still awake, they'd be planted on couches somewhere, nodding off to late-night TV. But the house was dark. Dead quiet. No action in the living room through the windows, so it was best to prioritize steering clear of the steps by the bedrooms.

The lock gave with barely a whisper. 30 seconds, maybe less. I slipped inside, eased the door shut, and clicked the lock behind me. The kitchen smelled like dust and stale coffee. My steps were slow, controlled, sliding forward on the balls of my feet. Every creek in the old wood floor felt too loud in the silence. past the marble island and the spotless stovetop, threw the archway into the dining room, long table, high-backed chairs,

no signs of life, and then I turned. A narrow door just off to the side, tucked between built-in cabinetry. I opened it. The air that wafted up from below was cold and dry, with a strange coppery edge. I stepped through and shut the door behind me. The stairs groaned more than I expected. I froze. There's so much rugby on Sports Extra from Sky

They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter sports extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time we've been every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup and much more. Thus the URC and all the best European rugby all in the same place. Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra.

Jampack with rugby. Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Standard Pressing applies after 12 months further terms. apply. Colleenie, did you know if your age between 25 and 65? Well, you can get a free HPV cervical check. It's one of the best ways to protect yourself from cervical cancer. And you know what? I actually

checked only recently when mine was due and no exaggeration. It took me less than five minutes. You go online to hsec.com.org slash cervical check. Put in your PPS number. Check in the date of birth. And then they tell you when your next appointment is due. Oh my god. I know. And you can check you're on the register on the website so you can phone [phone]. If your test is due today, you can book it today or hsc. i.e. 4 slash cervical check. Waited. Counted to 20. Nothing.

Then I descended. The basement smelled, different. Not like mildew or old laundry. It was sterile. Bleach. But strangely, it still looked the same as it had when I was a second grader coming over for birthday parties. I'd stepped into the main entertainment space, two large rectangular. rooms joined in an L-shape. Aside from the stairs behind me, if I followed the wall at my back

to the left, I'd reached the hallway that led to the second staircase and a full bathroom. The door I wanted, the one that led to the room with the nailed windows, sat dead center on the wall that ran alongside the hallway, only about 25 feet from where I stood. Close enough to the stairs. Close enough to my exit, the same way I came in. Unfortunately, that meant it was in full view of anyone coming down from the other staircase. If someone entered from that end, my only chance was to dive behind the big leather recliner in the far corner, where a cluster of fake plants and a side table offered some cover. I made a mental note of the escape route and the hiding spot, then crept toward the thick, dark oak door. The lock was trickier than I expected.

Forty-five seconds of quiet work before I got the pins to fall. Bingo, I muttered. The door creaked as I eased it open. But I didn't stop when it was wide enough to slip through. I pushed it farther than I needed to, maybe too far. Maybe that was my mistake. A better thief wouldn't have hesitated. Since that night, I haven't opened a door all the way. Not even halfway. I don't think I ever will again. As the angle neared 90 degrees, something gritty scraped beneath the door, a faint drag, like grains of sand. or salt. Then I heard it. Footsteps asterisk asterisk dot asterisk. Bare feet, slapping against tile. Then softer. On carpet. The second staircase. Someone was coming down.

I shut the door as gently as I could and sprinted on the balls of my feet, ducking behind the recliner and crouching low behind the fake ferns and dusty side table. And I held my breath. Burly man flicked on the stairwell light. He muttered over his shoulder to someone I couldn't see, clearly the other guard. It was probably nothing, man. The dust triggers this shit all the time. Just check the kitchen. A laser system.

You've got to be fucking kidding me. I didn't understand why it was necessary yet. But I would. Very soon. The man trudged down the hall, thankfully too lazy or groggy to flip on every. more lights. The only one lit was the stairwell, casting his silhouette deep into the room. His shadow reached the floor just a few feet from my hiding spot. Then he stopped. He was barefoot and wearing sleep attire, the only thing that marked him as a guard was the sidearm

at his waist. He scrunched his toes in the carpet and bent down, brow furrowed, picking something up. A speck dot a grain. The barrier, he muttered. The words barely made it out, half gasped, half whispered. My gut twisted. He was about to figure it out, that someone had disturbed whatever the hell that gritty stuff was. Salt. Sand. Rice maybe. He straightened slowly, put his ear to the door, left hand on the knob. His right unclipped the holster at his hip. You fucking idiot. I blamed myself. I forgot to relock the door, and it was to raise all of his alarms. My self-loathing swelled even as the rational part of me reasoned that there hadn't been time to lock it, but it didn't matter. He'd know that he'd open it and I'd

be, crash. The center of the oak door exploded inward, a shriek of splintered wood and ragged force. Too long, bone-thin arms burst through, gray with decay, slick with sinew, modeled with sores that wept pus and rot. Fingers like snapped branches lashed out, tipped with yellowed nails crusted in dirt and old blood. The guard didn't scream. His breath caught in his throat. The thing's knuckled hands clamped around his waist, not his chest, not his legs, his waist, like it meant to fold him in half. Then it did. A sickening snap echoed through the room as his spine bent backward. He didn't even cry out. His eyes locked with mine across the room, wide, horrified, searching for something. For help.

He was sputtering out blood, gone. There's so much rugby on sports extra from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter sports extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time we've put every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup and much more. That's the U.S. and all the best European rugby all in the same place. Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before

on Sports Extra. Jampack with rugby. Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months Search Sports Extra New Sports Extra customers only Standupressing applies after 12 months for the terms apply Collini, did you know if your age between 25 and 65

Well, you can get a free HPV cervical check. It's one of the best ways to protect yourself from cervical cancer And you know what? I actually checked only recently when mine was due And no exaggeration, it took me less than five minutes You go online to hsecc.e. Forward slash cervical check. Put in your PPS number check in the date of birth

And then they tell you when your next appointment is due Oh my God. I know. I know. And you can check you're on the register on the website or you can phone [phone]. If your test is due today, you can book it today are hc.io-e-fork slash cervical check. Arms continued to pull. It yanked him by his ruined waist into the splintered hole,

forcing him through like a toddler jamming the square block into the round hole of a toy. The jagged would peeled him as he went, his face dragging against splinters, his ankles twitching and twisting beneath his head, desperate to follow the rest of him through. Then a wet thud as he hit the floor on the other side. Silence.

Then the door creaked open. And it stepped out. Shambling. Tall. Hunched asterisk asterisk dot asterisk. Its limbs were too long, not inhuman in design, but wrong in proportion. Its spine pushed against the skin of its back like something trying to emerge. The hair on its scalp hung in greasy, stringy mats.

the kind that looked like it would all come off in one slick wipe. Then I saw its face. Or what was left of it? A slack, dangling jaw crowded with teeth, some animal, some jagged, and some familiar. Human. But what hit me hardest wasn't the teeth. It was the bracelet. Delicate silver links with a small amber stone, the kind a kid remembers because it looks like something no one else's mom ever wore. Pared with a ring I hadn't seen since I was eight. A massive diamond, the most expensive thing I'd ever laid eyes on back then. Mrs. Hawthorne. Scanning the room, the Hawthorne thing nearly locked eyes with me. Her gaze drifted, slow and dragging, pupils wide and black, swallowing what should have been her irises. Those empty eyes crept closer

to my hiding spot, like she could feel me. sense me. Could she smell the piss running down my leg? Then I yelp. From the stairs. The other guard. Her head snapped toward the sound with a twitch so fast it barely registered, less like turning and more like a glitch. He was gone around the corner, running. I heard him throw down stools in the kitchen to cover his escape. Then she was off. She bolted for the stairs, slamming into the walls as she went. The sound of her sprint, no, something faster than, rattled the floorboards. Inconceivably fast. Then came the tearing, wet, violent. A splash of glass shattering. And finally, the alarm. I gave it a minute. The police station was in the center of town, and I wasn't about to be the next

body bag just because I didn't want to bump into the cops. When I finally moved, I tightened the strings on my hoodie and sprinted out the front door. No way in hell was I cutting through the woods, not with Mrs. Hawthorne somewhere out there. For minutes later, lungs burning, I heard the sirens. As they rounded the corner, I dove into a ditch and held my breath while the cruisers roared past. By the time I made it back to my car, parked behind the old bottling factory, I spotted police police units from the next town over tearing through the main road. The house burned down by the end of the week. I don't know what the police know. But they're not telling the town the truth. Two young girls went missing that Thursday. Last time they were spotted was the swing set behind the elementary

school. On Saturday, they found an abandoned car out by observatory park, near the edge of town. Blood on the dash. Signs of a struggle. There's still a few people who haven't officially been reported missing, but their families are posting, asking if anyone has heard from them recently. During one of the search parties, a sheriff never came back. Just didn't return. And in the last seven days, judging by Facebook posts, 11 pets have vanished. Dogs Cats

Even a parrot, someone said. I want to leave. Every instinct I have is screaming. at me to run. But they've issued a stay-at-home order. So now I'm stuck here. What the fuck do I do? The end.