Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Midnight on Kelly Road Cloaked Rituals, Chased Headlights, and a Goat Horn 2025 PART4 #49

Episode Date: December 12, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #paranormal #truecrime #KellyRoadMystery #occultactivity #hauntingevents  Part 4 explores the continued escalation of eerie and dangerous events on Kelly Road. Witnesses report closer encounters with cloaked figures, sinister symbols, and haunting sounds, suggesting an intensifying connection to occult practices. This section delves into the investigation, theories, and growing fear surrounding the area, revealing the full extent of the dark mysteries haunting this isolated road.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, KellyRoad, paranormal, occult, ritual, cloakedfigures, superstition, strangeevents, hauntedroad, creepyencounters, mysteriousoccurrences, darkrituals, supernatural, unexplainedphenomena, chillingevents

The Go Mile, supported by AIB, has been helping families around the world for over 40 years. This year, we are asking you to step up together with your community to continue one of Ireland's favourite Christmas traditions. Search AIB Go Mile to see where you, your family and your friends can find your local Goal Mile event. AIB, for the life you're after. When somebody has a seizure, it all becomes clearer when you know what to do when you know what to do. Time the seizure. If it's over five minutes, call an ambulance. Keep the area around the person safe. Stay with them after the seizure passes. Time, safe, stay means you can make a real difference.

Be clear on how you can help. Visit epilepsy.com.i and learn more about time, safe, stay. funded and sponsored by UCB Pharma. So this weird dude kept rambling, right? He just wouldn't shut up about how he'd gotten lost and accidentally fell asleep. Like, yeah, sure, buddy. Out in a freezing woods, lying in a perfect little hidden spot with a full view of my granddad's house. Totally believable. To make things worse, he spat out a fake name on the spot,

like the kind of name you throw out when you get carted at a bar and panic. The whole time I just stood there, rifle in my hands, making sure he didn't move in any way that made my gut twist. And honestly, standing there, looking down at this stranger, I couldn't stop thinking about what might have happened if I hadn't shown up that morning. My grandfather is tough as nails, don't get me wrong, but he's not exactly young anymore. This guy had the chance to do whatever the hell he wanted, and that thought alone pissed me off more than I can even explain. It got under my skin in a way that made me finally snap.

I told him flat out to shut the hell up because his little, lost hunter, fairy tale wasn't cutting it. It was right around then that I saw my grandfather making his way over the ridge. I've never been so relieved in my life to see the old man. Between the two of us, we basically dragged this stranger down toward the road. He tried to resist a little, mumbling nonsense excuses, but I'm six-five and carrying adrenaline like a second weapon, so he didn't stand a chance. My granddad called the cops while I dialed my dad. Technically, and this is the frustrating part, the guy hadn't actually done anything yet. So the cops could only slap him with trespassing

and stalking charges. That was a month ago, and since then. Silence. Nothing. Haven't heard his name again, haven't seen him lurking around. Still, I can't stop thinking about how he was perfectly hidden, watching. People like that don't just get lost. Now, I wouldn't even be writing this if it weren't for my nephew. He listens to creepy story channels nonstop, and he practically begged me to send this in. At first I thought, no one's going to care about some bearded drifter creeping around in the woods. But then I remembered how it felt staring that guy down with the barrel of my rifle not ten yards away, and yeah, it still gives me chills. But let me shift gears for a second, because I've got another story, and this one is way different. I grew up in Huntington,

Pennsylvania. It's one of those towns where everyone knows each other, gossip spreads faster than wildfire, and local legends get passed around like bedtime stories. I left in 2005 to go to college in New York, but Huntington never really leaves you. The summer after my first year, I came back home, and a bunch of us childhood friends decided it was finally time to pull off this dumb plan we've been talking about since middle school. See, about 15 miles outside Huntington, there's this huge man-made lake called Raystown Lake. Gorgeous place, big enough to swallow whole towns, with waters so deep it's like staring into outer space. And that's where the legend of Ray's town Ray comes in. Supposedly, there's some

kind of lake monster lurking down there. People have sworn for decades that they've spotted it. Some say it looks like a giant eel, others say it's a prehistoric dinosaur-looking thing. The town kind of leaned into it, selling t-shirts and tourist junk, but for us locals. The story ran deeper. That summer, we said screw it, let's go. go monster hunting. Not seriously, of course, more like we wanted our own picture, or at least a story to brag about. Something to remind us where we came from even as adult life tried to drag us away. We hyped it up the night before. Bought tents, kayaks, sleeping bags, all the essentials. Stocked coolers with beer and snacks, plus a few recreational substances to enhance the adventure. A couple

guys chickened out at the last minute, typical, but the final crew ended up being me, Eddie, Jay, and Ben. Ben, for context, was the wild card. The risk taker. The guy who'd volunteered to jump off the highest cliff into the water just to prove a point. Having him along always meant things were going to get messy one way or another. So the next morning we loaded everything up, drove out, and dropped our kayaks into a quiet little cove. For the first couple hours we paddled around, eyes peeled for any ripple or shadow that

might scream Lake Monster. Predictably, we found absolutely nothing. Not even a suspiciously big fish. Big letdown. The Go Mile, supported by AIB, has been helping families around the world for over 40 years. This year, we are asking you to step up together with your community. to continue one of Ireland's favorite Christmas traditions. Search AIB Go Mile to see where you, your family and your friends can find your local Goal Mile event.

AIB, for the life you're after. But we had a backup plan, camping. Even if Ray's town Ray decided not to show up for his photo op, we were still going to have an epic pro weekend. Beer, fire, scary stories, catching up on life. That was good enough. We picked a clearing away from the public campgrounds to feel more isolated. Jay and I stayed behind to set up tents and get the fire pit ready.

Ben and Eddie went off to collect wood and, scout the area, which really just meant Ben messing with Eddie until he lost his patience. About 20 minutes into setup, Jay and I heard this loud crack behind the tents. sounded like a branch snapping clean off a tree. We froze, looked at each other, then just shrugged. Ben's at it again, we figured. He lived to pull dumb pranks. Sure enough, they came strolling back a half hour later.

Eddie looked irritated, Ben was grinning like a maniac. Didn't even compliment our campsite masterpiece, just marched over, put on his serious voice, and announced. You guys are not going to believe what I saw out there in the woods. We were like, all right, spill it then. But of course, Ben smirked and said, nah, I'll tell you later around the fire. Eddie just rolled his eyes, clearly done with the theatrics. Fast forward to later that night. We'd been drinking, joking, roasting each other, telling old stories.

The fire crackled, sparks drifting. up into the pitch black sky. The woods around us were dead silent. Not even crickets. It was that kind of silence that makes your ears ring, like your brain is straining to hear something, anything. Creepy as hell in hindsight, but at the time we were too caught up in our little bubble to care. Then it hit us. A wave of heat. Not campfire heat, something different. This wasn't just the warm flicker of flames on your face. It felt like standing in front of an open oven. A gust of hot air blew from the right side of camp, strong enough that we all stopped mid-laugh. The woods were freezing,

but this was like walking into summer. We looked at each other, eyes wide, waiting for someone to explain what the hell we just felt. Nobody said a word. Then Ben, of course Ben, grinned that same grin and said, see, told you there was something sinister in these woods. And that's when he dropped the bomb. While he and Eddie had been out earlier, they'd found a tree covered in carvings. Not initials or hearts, but stick figure drawings. People. Eddie brushed it off as stupid vandalism, but Ben swore he saw more trees with cruder carvings, scenes of death.

Stick people hanging, stick people with. arrows through them, that kind of thing. The way Ben told it, his voice low and theatrical, the firelight flickering against his face, it didn't feel like one of his pranks anymore. So when Ben dropped that detail, stick figure carvings showing what he claimed were death scenes, our laughs kind of died out real quick. I remember poking at the fire with a stick just to give my hand something to do. Eddie kept shaking his head like, don't listen to him, he's exactly.

exaggerating again. But there was something about the way Ben told it that stuck with me. Normally when he was trying to mess with us, he'd smirk or crack a grin mid-story, but this time, his face was dead serious. You're telling me, I finally said, breaking the silence, you found some Blair which looking trees out there. And you didn't think to mention it until now. Ben shrugged. I wanted the timing to be right. Creepy stories are better when you're half-drunk and in the middle of the woods. Jay groaned and threw an empty beer can at him, which Ben batted away, but the tension didn't break.

The whole group felt it, this heavy pressure, like the woods themselves were eavesdropping. Eddie finally chimed in. Look, yeah, there were carvings. But they were probably just some teenagers screwing around. Don't make it out like we stumbled into a ritual sight or a little. something. Ben leaned forward, firelight painting his face in orange shadows. I'm telling you, Ed, it wasn't kids. These carvings were old. Like, really old. The bark had started to grow over them in spots. And the detail? Way too messed up for a couple of bored kids.

We all sat there in silence for a few beats, just staring into the flames. The wave of of heat we'd felt earlier still lingered in the back of my mind, making my skin prickle. I wanted to brush it all off, but part of me couldn't. Around midnight, Jay suggested we call it a night. He crawled into his tent, muttering about how he wasn't about to let Ben's campfire tales rob him of sleep. Eddie followed soon after, leaving me and Ben by the fire. We sat there for a while, both sipping from our bottles. The The fire had burned down to glowing embers, and the woods had gone so quiet it was almost suffocating. Ben suddenly whispered, You feel that?

I froze. At first I thought he meant the silence, but then I realized he was right, there it was again. That hot wave of air rolling over us in pulses, like a furnace door swinging open and closed. Except there was no source, no reason. We both stood up at the same time, scanning the tree line. Nothing. Just blackness and snowflakes floating in the beam of my flashlight. Maybe it's the wind, I said, though even as the words left my mouth, I knew it was bullshit.

The air was dead still. Ben didn't answer. He was squinting into the trees, his face tight. Then he muttered, almost to himself, It's watching us. I didn't ask what it was. I didn't want to know. The next morning, we woke to find something waiting for us.

Eddie was the first one up. He'd gone to fetch water from the lake when he came running back, pale as a ghost. You guys need to see this, he said, out of breath. We followed him to the edge of camp, where our kayaks were pulled up on shore. sitting right on the bow of mine was a stick figure i'm not talking about a carved one this time this was made of actual sticks lashed together with what looked like twine or maybe some kind of vine it was about a foot tall arms outstretched little legs crooked and right in the centre of its chest a small dead fish had been tied on with string none of us spoke for a long moment the only sound was the water lapping against the shore sure. Jay finally broke the silence. Okay. Which one of you assholes did this? Ben swore it wasn't him, his voice serious in a way that made me believe him. Eddie looked like he was about to puke. And me? I couldn't take my eyes off that stick figure. It wasn't there the night before. Which meant someone, or something, had been close enough to our camp while we slept to live. leave it behind. We argued about what to do. Jay wanted to pack up and leave immediately.

Eddie half agreed, though he kept insisting it was probably just some prank from other campers. Ben, of course, wanted to stay. He said it was, proof, that we weren't just wasting our time out there. Me? I was torn. The logical part of me wanted to believe Eddie. Some local kids sneaking around, messing with us. But the other part of me couldn't shake the feeling that we weren't supposed to be there. Like the woods themselves were warning us. In the end, we compromised. We'd give it one more night.

That evening, things escalated. We built the fire bigger than before, more for comfort than warmth. Everyone stuck close, no one wanted to wander off for firewood anymore. The stick figure sat a few feet away, right where we'd left it. Nobody wanted to touch it, but none of us wanted to throw it away either. It felt like messing with it would cross some invisible line. Around 10 p.m., we heard it. A splash.

Not a small splash either, something big moving in the water. We all turned toward the lake, firelight flickering across the dark surface. Another splash echoed, closer this time, followed by a ripple cutting across the water. That's it, Ben whispered, eyes wide. That's Ray. We scrambled for our flashlights, beams darting across the waves. For a split second, I swear I saw it. A long, dark-shaped gliding just beneath the surface, easily bigger than any fish that should be in that lake. My heart jumped into my throat. Then it was gone.

The water stilled, ripples fading. We stood frozen for what felt like forever, but nothing else happened. No more splashes, no more shapes. Jay was the first to speak. I'm done. First thing in the morning, we're out of here. Screw the monster, screw the carvings, screw the stick voodoo crap, I'm not dying in the woods for this.

No one argued. Not even Ben. That night, I barely slept. Every creek of the trees, every rustle of wine through the branches, I was wide awake. At some point I thought I heard footsteps circling the tents, slow and deliberate. But when I worked up the courage to peek outside, nothing was there. Morning finally came, gray and cold. We packed up fast, barely speaking.

As we hauled our gear back to the kayaks, I noticed something that made my stomach turn. Another stick figure. This one was larger, maybe three feet tall, standing upright in the sand like it had been planted there. And tied to its hand was a clump of animal fur, matted and bloody. We didn't even hesitate. We shoved our kayaks into the water. and paddled like hell, not looking back until the shore was just a blur. To this day, I don't know what we stumbled into.

Was it really Ray's town Ray in the lake? Some culk messing with us in the woods? Or something else entirely? All I know is that we never went back. None of us. Even Ben stopped joking about it after that. Whatever lives in those woods, or that lake, wanted us gone. And we listened.

To be continued.