Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Real Encounters With Demonic Figures, Smiling Shadows, and Unknown Creatures at Night PART3 #55

Episode Date: September 24, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #demonicfigures #smilingshadows #paranormalencounters #nightcreatures #supernaturalhorror  "Real Encounters With Demonic Figures, Smiling Shadows, and Unknown Creatures at Night – PART 3" reveals even more harrowing firsthand accounts of terrifying supernatural beings encountered in the dead of night. These stories describe chilling moments when dark, smiling shadows and grotesque, unknown creatures appear—leaving witnesses gripped with fear and questioning reality. This installment explores the unnerving and unexplainable, showing how some darkness refuses to stay hidden.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, realparanormalencounters, demonicsightings, shadowyfigures, nightterrorstories, creatureencounters, hauntingexperiences, supernaturalphenomena, eerievisions, chillingtestimonies, darkentities, unexplainedevents, nightmarecreatures, mysteriousbeings, terrorintheshadows

You ever get that weird feeling like something's not right, like the air just changes on you. That night, that's exactly how it started. I was just chilling on the couch, binge watching whatever random show popped up on Netflix, nothing heavy, just a lazy night in. The weather outside was starting to shift, early autumn, you know. That kind of gloomy cool air creeping in through the windows even when they're shut. Seasonal depression had me locked down like a weighted blanket. I figured I'd ride it out with junk food and low effort entertainment.

Then that weird feeling hit. Like when one of your tires starts deflating and the car just drives off. You can't see anything wrong, but you feel it. Something was off. Not just a guilty you've e been on the couch for four hours, kind of feeling, but like I wasn't alone. No sounds, no movements, just this pressure. Like the atmosphere shifted.

I tried to brush it off, but my gut was screaming. So I stood up, shut off the TV, and headed upstairs. I didn't even turn off the lights downstairs. I don't know why, that part always sticks with me. Maybe I didn't want to be in the dark. Maybe I just didn't want to turn my back to the room. Upstairs, I flipped on the hallway light, headed straight to the bathroom. I wasn't hearing whispers or seeing shadows yet,

but the vibe. The vibe was off. I played some music on my phone to break the silence. Tried to force myself back into normal. A hot shower seemed like the fix. The kind where you stand under the water and let your thoughts melt off your skin. I started stripping down, just trying to push the uneasiness out of my brain. Half undressed, I thought I heard something. Movement. Like a shift in the air again, coming from downstairs. I paused the music. Stood real still. Nothing. Silence.

Must have been the house settling, right? Or maybe my roommate getting back early. I convinced myself it was one of those. I didn't even consider a break-in. That kind of stuff doesn't happen to me. It happens to other people in news reports. Doors were locked. Neighborhood's quiet.

I live in the kind of place where folks jog in matching sweat suits and wave to each other. I told myself I was just being dramatic. Got into the shower, cranked the water hotter than usual. Tried to zone out. But when I shut off the water, it all came flooding back. Stronger this time. Like the silence itself was watching me. I turned off my phone.

Now I'm standing there, dripping, staring at the bottom of the bridge. bathroom door. There's a shadow. Not moving, not shifting. Just there. Solid. Someone was standing outside. Not knocking. Not saying anything. Just waiting. My blood ran cold. I panicked, but quietly. I thought, if this was my roommate, they'd be calling my name, asking to use the sink or whatever. Not standing still outside. door. My mind spun scenarios like a horror film on Fast Forward. Knife, mask, door crashing open. Me bleeding on tile. I quietly pulled on shorts and a shirt. Still wet. Still shaking. Eyes locked on that shadow like it was a snake about to strike. I made a call in my head.

Escape. I turned to the small bathroom window. Opened it. flushed the toilet to cover the sound, then climbed onto the sill. My body was in full, fight or flight mode. I pushed out onto the roof. Right as I was sliding through, my head bumped the blinds, made that horrible rattling noise. I froze. Then came the sound, the unmistakable crack of the bathroom door smashing open behind me. I didn't look back.

I slid across the roof, let myself drop to the ground below. It wasn't graceful, I hit the dirt hard, skin scraped. But I ran. Full sprint across the yard, barefoot and soaked, no care in the world if someone was chasing me. I just ran. Knocked like a maniac on my neighbor's back door. They let me in, thank God, and I called the cops while they locked everything behind me. When the police showed up, they searched my house from top to bottom.

No one there. empty, but not untouched. Every room had signed someone had been in it. Footprints. Open drawers. Cabinets rifled through. This creep had been walking room to room while I was in the damn shower. And then they told me the worst part, there were smudges and partial prints on the living room window. Right where the couch was. The same couch I'd been lounging on earlier, just before heading upstairs. He had been watching me. This guy waited until I left the ground floor, snuck in through the back. Then he waited outside the bathroom, instead of just breaking in. That patience? That was scarier than anything. He could have done it, but he chose to wait. All I could think was,

there are a thousand ways this could have ended differently. And somehow, I got out. That was the first time. but not the last time I learned to really listen to my instincts. Let me back up a bit. Growing up in the late 90s was a weird blend of analog and digital. My parents had split when I was six, so I spent my time bouncing back and forth between mom's noisy city apartment and dad's quiet little ranch on a cul-de-sac. Summer breaks. Always with dad.

He worked late a lot. Didn't get home until after eight most nights. That meant long days where I had the house to myself. I didn't mind. I liked the piece. Backyard was huge, fenced in. Room to explore. Inside, I'd spend hours on Dad's ancient desktop,

tying up the phone line with dial-up internet, navigating early web pages like they were alien worlds. That house felt safe. Until it didn't. One day, sun dipping below the trees, I got up from the computer to grab a snack. Didn't turn on any lights, there was still just enough twilight to see. I walked down the hallway into the kitchen, opened the fridge.

Cold light spilled out and I started digging for something to eat. Then I heard it. The faint jingle of the charms on my bedroom lamp. It was a sound I knew well. They only rang when someone opened or closed the window or bumped the nightstand. But I wasn't in my room. That sound. It made my blood freeze.

No one should have been in there. Suddenly my ears went full radar. Every creak of the floor, every breath felt amplified. I heard muffled movement. Footsteps. My bedroom door creaking open. Without thinking, I shut the fridge and darted to the back door. I yanked it open, but stopped short.

The back porch was screened in, and that screen door squealed like a banshee every time it opened. There was no way I could get out quietly. And if they were inside already, I'd be heading right into their path. So I did the only thing I could, I ducked into the vacuum closet beside the fridge. Barely enough room to stand. My chest was heaving. I kept a hand on the knob, trying to hold it closed without making noise.

Then I heard them. Two sets of footsteps. Voices. Clothes. Hey, what are you doing? One guy said. Dude, I'm starving. Haven't eaten all day.

Get the hell out of the fridge. I heard the fridge open. Items shifting. The guy was right next to me, separated by inches and a thin wooden door. Then, my heart stopped. The closet door handle jiggled. Hey, this one's locked. I pressed all my weight into the door.

my weight into the door. One tug and I'd fall out. But then the second guy shouted from near the back, hey, did you open this? No. Why? Somebody was just here. Must have gone out back. Their footsteps scrambled toward the back porch. I should have run. But I couldn't. My legs wouldn't move. I was shaking too bad. Couldn't even think about reaching for the cordless phone, it shared the line with the dial-up internet, which was still connected. They came back in a minute later. The hunt wasn't over yet. To be continued.