Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - I Got Kidnapped by a Drunk Stranger at Six and Ended Up at a Police Station Alone PART1 #20

Episode Date: July 22, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales#kidnappinghorror #truestoryterror #lostchild #childhoodtrauma #realnightmare  In Part 1 of this chilling real-life horror story, the narrator recounts the moment their life changed forever. At just six years old, they were kidnapped by a drunken stranger who mistook them for someone else—or simply didn’t care. The terrifying journey through confusion, fear, and helplessness leads to a police station, but the horror doesn’t end with rescue. This first chapter dives deep into the overwhelming fear of being taken, the surreal moments that followed, and the lasting damage only beginning to take shape. A haunting tale of innocence stolen and the scars it leaves behind.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales,kidnappedchild, truestoryhorror, childhoodfear, realnightmare, policeaftermath, traumaticmemory,lostatkidnap, fearandconfusion, abductionterror, dangerousstrangers, terrifyingencounter,childhoodtrauma, darkmemories, survivalstory, aloneandafraid, neartragedy, horrorfromreality

There won't be many good memories here. But maybe one. Or two. Though not this one. Definitely not. And yeah, my English sucks. You'll live. So here it goes, I was six when I got kidnapped.

Not even kidding. It was back in 2006, if you're trying to place the year. And let me tell you, it was the dumbest kidnapping in the history of ever. Like, Darwin Award level dumb. I don't even think the guy realized what he was doing was a crime. He was totally wasted. Just blitzed out of his skull. It all started while we were just playing outside.

I was that kind of wild, slightly feral kid who thought he was a ninja with a stick, tried to throw knives into sand pits, climbed trees and old buildings like Spider-Man on crack, chased stray cats for no real reason, and once tried to play. with a dead crow. Yeah, I know. Weird as hell. Let me give you some context. I lived in one of the biggest cities on the planet. Not exaggerating. It was something like the 15th biggest, I think. No houses, no backyards. Just endless rows of massive apartment buildings stacked like Lego blocks. And because everyone had cars, we had these huge metal sheds everywhere, the kind people used. as garages. Tons of them. Rose and rose. That was our jungle gym. Anyway, it was the very

first time my little brother, he was four, and I were allowed to go outside without our parents. I mean, they could see us from the seventh floor window, so they figured it was all good. Spoiler, it wasn't. The other kids I played with. Just as nuts as me. We were up on the sheds, jumping from one roof to the next, like some post-apocalyptic Olympic team. It was fun for a while, but we eventually got bored and decided to go to the nearby playground. Which was ironic, since the playground was made for us, but we preferred climbing random junk. Kids are weird. So we get to the playground, and for some reason, all the other kids started climbing up the slide and the jungle gym, anything tall.

Everyone except me. And that was my mistake. Because just then, some guy grabbed me by the collar out of nowhere. One second I was chilling, next second I was halfway choking. I turned around, or maybe he spun me, and there he was. This random man, his face bright red like a tomato that was pissed off at the world. He looked huge at the time. I mean, I was six.

He could have been eight feet tall for all I knew. Looking back now, I could probably bench-press the guy. But back then? Terrifying. He starts yelling at me, barking like a rabid dog. Ask me if I was the one jumping on the sheds. Now, here's the thing. In my language, we call those sheds, garages, but some people call them Rukushkas, which also mean seashells.

I didn't know that second meaning. So when he asked if I was jumping on the Rukushka, I was genuinely confused. I said something dumb like, seashells are in the sea. Wrong answer. The guy absolutely lost it. Shaking me, yelling nonsense. Then he switched back to calling at a garage, and I finally got what he meant.

So I said, yeah, that was me. Then he just started dragging me. Still by the collar, choking me. Screaming at me to walk faster, shoving and yanking. me down the street. I remember asking him politely to stop shaking me so I could match his pace. You know what he said. Something like, I'll make you match me. So there we were, walking for like ten minutes. I had no idea where we were going, but I wasn't panicking. Not yet. Maybe I was too young or too dumb to freak out. Anyway, you'll never guess where he took me. The freaking police

station. Yep. Of all places. I still don't remember what he said to the cop at the front desk. I think they were buddies, because no one even questioned if he was my dad or if I needed help. The cop just looked at me like I was a criminal and started lecturing me. Told me I could be arrested for jumping on garages, that my parents could get punished. All while the drunk dude kept a death grip on my collar. Eventually, the cop asked if I understood. I said yes. Then the drunk man just let me go. Walked off like he didn't just kidnap a child.

That's when it hit me. I was alone. In a police station. In some random part of the city. No idea how to get home. And weirdly, that's when I actually got scared. But then my brain did something wild. Instead of asking the cops for help, I decided to follow the drunk.

drunk man. Like some kind of cartoon character. I stayed behind him just enough that he wouldn't notice. I crossed the same roads, kept my distance. Basically tracked him like a secret agent, right back to my neighborhood. And guess what I saw when I got back? My dad slamming the guy onto the ground. No joke. There was a whole crowd around them. The drunk dude's wife was screaming. My mom was there, losing her mind. I walked up and casually said, hi, like nothing happened. My six-year-old brain apparently thought that whole mess was just an adventure. Like I had just gone on a side quest or something. Here's the rest of the story, from my mom's point of view. So apparently, some eight-year-old girl from the playground saw what happened. She grabbed my little brother,

ran him back to our apartment building, rang the doorbell, and told my parents some man had taken me because we were playing on the garages. First thing my dad asked was if the man was a cop. She said no. And boom, both my parents were out the door. My dad started asking the girl questions, trying to figure out what happened. My mom looked outside and didn't see me. That's when she totally broke down, screaming so loud a random off-duty cop nearby came running over to help. My dad called his friend who worked in special services. Suddenly, there was a whole commotion. Now, this part's important. At the time, there had been several child kidnappings in the area. So yeah, my parents were terrified. Eventually, someone figured out who the guy was.

turned out he lived in a building near ours. His wife hated kids playing on their garage. And when my dad confronted him, asking where I was, the drunk guy said, where he belongs. Bad. Move. I'll never forget that girl. The one who helped my brother and told my parents. She might have saved my life, for real.

If things had gone a little differently, who knows what would have happened. I wish I remembered her name. All I can recall is she had brown hair. So yeah. That was the time I got kidnapped. Or whatever that was. Not your usual kind of memory. Not a good one.

But memorable. Hell yeah. Still not sure how I didn't freak out more. Guess kids are either fearless or clueless. Or maybe a bit of both. and that, my friend, is the end of this totally bonkers story. If you made it this far, congrats. You survived my awful English and my chaotic childhood.

To be continued.