Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Library Obsession and Campus Stalker True Stories of Fear, Fixation, and Survival PART1 #42

Episode Date: October 13, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #campusstalker #libraryhorror #obsessionstories #realsurvivorstories #creepyencounters  Part 1 focuses on unsettling stories of campus stalkers and obsessive behaviors in libraries and public spaces. Each account highlights the fear, anxiety, and tension of living under constant scrutiny, showing how the stalkers’ fixation creates a chilling environment. These true stories expose the hidden dangers lurking in familiar places and the resilience of those who survive them.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, campusstalker, libraryhorror, obsessionstories, realsurvivorstories, creepyencounters, frighteningexperiences, stalkingawareness, truecrimehorror, unsettlingstories, nightmarefuel, darktales, fearstories, survivalstories, realcreepystories

All right, let me tell you this in my own way with every detail I can possibly remember, because if I don't slow myself down and explain the little moments, you might miss just how strange, funny, uncomfortable, and downright unsettling this whole situation has been. Buckle up because this story isn't short. It's going to take me a while to walk you through everything. So, first things first, I'm 26, female, and I work at the front, desk of my town's public library. People sometimes imagine a library job as sitting around in peace and quiet, sipping tea and checking books in and out at a slow, leisurely pace. That's true,

maybe 10% of the time. The rest is babysitting unattended kids, trying to shoe away teenagers who think the stacks are a great place to make out, arguing with people who are furious about late fees, and occasionally dealing with patrons who are just odd. And when I say odd, I mean in ways that make you question whether you're still on the same planet as them. But nothing in all my years of working here, part-time through college, now full-time as an actual career, prepared me for Hank. Hank is, well, how do I put this? He's in his mid-30s, kind of average-looking, not threatening on the surface,

the sort of guy you'd pass on the street without remembering him five seconds later. Except Hank doesn't usually walk around alone. He's always with his mother. Always. If you see Hank, his mom is about three feet away, hovering like a shadow. From what I've been told, and people love to gossip in small towns, Hank had some sort of brain injury when he was a kid. It left him with a speech impediment and, let's just say, a way of interacting with people that doesn't quite line up with social norms. Here's the thing about him. Hank, though. The man loves to read. Loves it. I don't mean a casual love, like how you or I might read before bed. I mean he devours books like he's in some kind of reading marathon that never ends. He and his

mom come in a couple times a week, each time lugging in these huge tote bags stuffed with returns. I swear, the books look like they've been through a war by the time they come back, bent spines, folded pages, like they've been read three times each. Then, without fail, Hank piles up another mountain of books at the desk to check out. We librarians end up processing half his requests because he also calls constantly, either to renew his items or to ask if the next wave of his holds are ready. The man is a machine. I've joked with my coworkers that if Hank ever stopped reading,

our circulation numbers would drop by half. Now, you might be thinking, okay, that's actually kind of sweet, A guy who loves books that much can't be all bad. And you're right, it would be sweet, except for one tiny, awkward little detail. Hank's favorite genre. And no, it's not mystery, it's not sci-fi, it's not even fantasy. Hank is head over heels obsessed with romance novels.

And I'm not talking classy literary romance or even Nicholas Sparks tear-jerkers. I'm talking about the cheap, mass-movers. market paperbacks with glossy covers and titles like His Forbidden Desire or Bad Boy Billionaire's Secret Baby, the kind of stuff that makes even seasoned librarians stifle a laugh when we scan them through. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not a prude. None of us at the library are. We see people check out every kind of book imaginable, and honestly, nothing really shocks us anymore. People are free to read whatever makes them happy. But most patrons at least have the decent to be a little discreet when they're checking out, let's say, the racier selections.

Not Hank. To Hank, they're just books, just like any other genre. He'll march right up with a stack of 20 of them and start chatting about his favorites, rattling off titles that sound like parodies. He talks about these authors and series with the same enthusiasm a 12-year-old has when they're telling you about their favorite video game, pure unfiltered excitement. At first, I thought it was funny, kind of quirky, something to laugh about in the break room. But then, things got complicated. From the beginning, Hank liked me. I could tell right away. I've worked in customer service long enough to recognize when a patron takes a little too much interest in you. He was overly friendly, too personal, and always laser focused on me, even when other staff were right

there. But it wasn't until he invited me to his house that I realized this wasn't just my imagination. One day, I'm at the desk, business as usual, and Hank just casually blurts out, You should come over sometime. My mom and I fixed the place up. We can have dinner and play Xbox. I laughed awkwardly and said no, that I had a boyfriend, which I thought would be the universal stop sign in situations like this. But Hank got frustrated. He insisted it wasn't like that. He just wanted to hang out. I declined again, and he finally dropped it. But I was shaken. You have to understand. I don't get asked to dinner by patrons at work, ever. It felt like a line had been crossed. Of course, when I told my coworkers, they all laughed and said,

Oh, Hank does that. Don't take it personally. Apparently, this wasn't the first time he'd fixated on a staff member. That helped, but only a little. It's one thing to know it's a pattern. It's another to be the current target. The next incident, though, really unnerved me. It was the day before Christmas break, one of those lazy days where hardly anyone comes in. I answered the phone, and sure enough, it was Hank. We chatted briefly, renewals, the usual, and just as I was about to hang up, I heard him say quietly, Hey, I lifted the phone back to my ear, and in the softest, most sheepish voice, he said, You're really cute.

Then he hung up. I just sat there staring at the receiver like it had personally between you. betrayed me. I felt this mix of anger and pity, but mostly just discomfort. It was one thing to gush about books. It was another to suddenly make it personal like that. Fast forward a few months. Hank keeps calling, keeps coming in, and somehow it's always me who ends up dealing with him. He keeps me on the phone forever, going on and on about his books. I try to be polite, but meanwhile, there's a line of patrons at the desk giving me the side-eye. One time he even asked me to read the description of a romance novel to him over the phone.

Do you know how awkward it feels to read some over-the-top steamy synopsis aloud to a grown man who's clearly enjoying it way too much? I pretended there was no description available in our system and shut it down. And still, he kept coming. He'd linger at the desk, stalling, fiddling with his bag, throwing out redundant questions, complimenting me on how nice I looked. all while his mother hovered nearby, avoiding my eyes, occasionally muttering Hank in this weird, almost angry tone. It was like she was embarrassed for him, or maybe she knew something we didn't. Honestly, her silence started to creep me out more than Hank himself. The last straw came a couple weeks ago. Hank and his mom dropped off a giant bag of returns.

His mom disappeared into the stacks, leaving me alone with him. He asked me to read his holds list, which was massive, 30 titles mong. I start going down the list, and at first it's normal stuff, sci-fi, fantasy, then suddenly I hit a stretch of about 20 titles all from the same ridiculous romance series. Every single one had bad boys in the title, and each was more cringe-worthy than the last. I tried to keep a professional face, but my voice must have given away my disgust, because Hank's grin just kept getting bigger and bigger. When I finally reached the end, he leaned in, his eyes practically shining, and said,

What was that last one again? I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth, and said flatly, I like bad boys. Hank lit up like it was Christmas morning. He giggled, thanked me, and bound it off. I felt sick. I hid in the break room until I was sure he and his mom were gone. Since then, I've been avoiding him. If I see him coming, I disappear into the back.

If I have to answer the phone and it's him, I'm cold, clipped, efficient. No more friendly chit-chat. I don't like being that way. I hate being mean to people, but I don't know what else to do. He hasn't entirely backed off, but he doesn't hunt me down like he used to. Maybe he's starting to get the hint. Maybe not. Either way, I can't shake the feeling that this isn't over.

And I can't help but wonder, is Hank really as naive as he seems, or is there something darker under the surface? Because at this point, I honestly don't know. To be continued.