Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Real Encounters With Demonic Figures, Smiling Shadows, and Unknown Creatures at Night PART2 #54

Episode Date: September 24, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #demonicsightings #shadowentities #unknowncreatures #nightterrors #paranormalencounters  "Real Encounters With Demonic Figures, Smiling Shadows, and Unknown Creatures at Night – PART 2" delves deeper into haunting experiences where darkness reveals its most terrifying inhabitants. Witnesses share disturbing moments when malevolent demonic shapes, unsettling smiling shadows, and bizarre creatures emerged from the night, leaving lasting fear and unanswered questions. These true accounts highlight the thin veil between our world and something far more sinister lurking just beyond perception.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, demonicencounters, shadowcreatures, paranormalphenomena, eeriecreatures, supernaturalevents, nightfearstories, chillingtrueencounters, hauntedvisions, darkentities, unexplainablephenomena, terrorintheshadows, realparanormalstories, mysteriousbeings, nightmareencounters

Yes, honey. Yes, I'm on my way home now. I know you told me not to drink. Yes, I know. You were right. I'm sorry, babe. I'm coming home. Right now, okay.

I laid it on thick. The slurred speech, the fake stuttering like she was cutting me off mid-sentence, I made it a real show. I sounded hammered and ticked off, playing the part of a drunk husband being chewed out over the phone. My voice filled the car and drowned out the conversation between the cop and my dad. I wasn't even sure what they were saying anymore. I just kept staring straight ahead at the dashboard, refusing to look behind me. But I felt it. A second car. Another cop.

Something shifting. You get a sense for these things when you've lived a certain kind of life. and then I felt the cop walking toward my side of the car. That's when it hit me like a ton of bricks. My brain flipped. Everything changed in a blink. I didn't just think about what was happening, I saw it. My whole life under a microscope. My wife.

My kids. Their smiles. The way they made everything bearable. I could have stayed home. But instead, here I was. sitting in a car at the edge of a decision that might alter everything. I reached under the seat and pulled out the revolver. Cocked the hammer.

Fully loaded, seven shots. My fingers didn't even feel like mine. I wasn't thinking anymore, I was watching. Watching myself in a movie where I already knew the ending. The script was written. The stage set. And I was ready. I was convinced the cop was going to.

to open the door and shove his weapon in my face. I felt it in my bones. You couldn't have convinced me otherwise. And in that moment, I decided, no, I knew what I was going to do. I'd shoot him. I wasn't hesitating, wasn't debating. It was done. Sealed. I wasn't going to be taken away from my family. I'd rather die. And I knew that killing a cop meant that's exactly what would happen. You shoot a cop around here, you don't go to court. You get buried. I watched his hand reach for the door. All I could think was, this man is dead and he has no idea. He probably had a wife, maybe a newborn. And tomorrow, his family would be planning his funeral. Right alongside mine. It was going to be so simple. Door opens. I raise my arm.

Bang! And then I'd turn the gun on my father. Wipe him off the earth. That man was the ghost of all my pain, all my nightmares. I'd eliminate him for every time I went to sleep hungry, scared, alone. I knew my family would be devastated. I cried thinking about it. But I wasn't crying because I was going to stop.

I was crying because I wasn't going to stop. That was the scariest part. I was aware, fully aware, that what I was about to do was monstrous. And yet, I was going through with it. I closed my eyes. Waited. But the door never opened. I opened my eyes, confused.

The cop was gone. Back by my dad. Just, gone. My dad told me later that the officer had reached out for the door handle, then paused. For ten full seconds, he just stood there. No words. No movement. Just stood, then shook his head, lowered his hand, and walked away.

He wrote my father a speeding ticket. Told him he was a good parent for picking up his drunk son. Just like that. My dad got back in the car. We pulled away without a word. The road stretched ahead, dead silent. No sirens. No flashing lights. Just night. Six miles down the highway, I rolled down my window. Stuck the revolver out. Emptied all seven shots into the dirt on the roadside. Bam. Bam! Bam! My dad nearly

drove off the road. Swerved, cursed, gripping the wheel like it might escape. He hadn't known about the gun. When I rolled the window up, he finally said something. You probably shouldn't carry a gun when you've been drinking. I stared out the window and muttered, you and I shouldn't drink together at all. That was the last time I had a drink with my dad. That was five years ago. I've kept my distance since then. And let me be clear, I don't blame him for what I almost did.

That's on me. But being around him, especially after alcohol, flips a sort of switch inside me. The one I spent my whole adult life trying to shut off. That night reminded me that I still carry all those old wires from childhood, the survival instincts, the violence, the rage. It just takes a spark. Being with him again brought it all back. The kill-or-be-killed mindset. I almost murdered a cop over a bag of cheap weed. Let that sink in. And I truly, fully believe something divine stopped it. Call it what you want, gut feeling, cop's intuition, but I call it intervention.

Not luck. Luck is finding 20 bucks in an old jacket. What happened that night? That was something else. I'm sharing this because people need to trust their instincts. That gut feeling. It's there for a reason. Don't ignore it.

I'll give you another example. A few months back, when fall was creeping in and daylight started disappearing faster than you'd like, I had a night alone at the house I shared with my roommate. Seasonal depression was knocking, and I decided to ride it out with a lazy evening. I was curled up on the couch, flipping through Netflix, not really watching anything. That's when I felt it. That weird, uncomfortable pressure that something just isn't right. Not guilt or anxiety.

Not the, you should be doing chores kind of feeling. It was deeper. Like the house wasn't sitting right on the earth. Like reality was just, off. It was that same sensation you get when you're driving and your tires going flat, but you don't know it yet. Something's dragging you down, just enough to notice. Unable to shake it, I got up. Turned off the TV.

Walked upstairs. but I didn't flip any switches. I left all the lights on downstairs. To be continued.