Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Real Encounters With Demonic Figures, Smiling Shadows, and Unknown Creatures at Night PART7 #59

Episode Date: September 25, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #demonicfigures #shadowcreatures #paranormalencounters #nightterror #unknowncreatures  "Real Encounters With Demonic Figures, Smiling Shadows, and Unknown Creatures at Night – PART 7" continues the chilling exploration into real-life supernatural horrors. Survivors recount encounters with malevolent demonic entities, unsettling smiling shadows, and mysterious creatures lurking in the darkness. These stories reveal the terrifying experiences of those who’ve come face-to-face with the unknown, leaving lasting impressions of fear and disbelief.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, paranormalencounters, demonicfigures, shadowbeings, supernaturalphenomena, nightcreatures, eerievisions, chillingencounters, darkentities, mysteriousbeings, hauntingexperiences, nightmarecreatures, terrorintheshadows, unexplainedevents, realparanormal

She didn't. She just sat there like she was waiting for something, or maybe someone. Right at the base of the stairs, like she owned the place. She went through our bags like a raccoon in a campsite, munching down our snacks, pocketing whatever she could grab, completely unfazed by the fact that four terrified teenagers were watching her from above. Once it got fully dark, things got worse. The shadows crept up the trees, and soon we couldn't see a damn thing below us. us, other than the vague outline of that woman. She hadn't moved. Not an inch. Just sitting there,

chewing, staring off into space like she was in a trance or waiting for a cue. We were stuck, we couldn't climb up onto the platform above because the trap door was jammed, and we couldn't go down because, well, who the hell knew what that woman was capable of? And yeah, I know what you're thinking, why not just climb down and deal with her? Four on one, right? But that's easy to say when you're not dealing with an unknown freak in the middle of the woods with potential weapons, control of our only flare gun, and zero lighting. Plus, I'd already messed up my leg trying to climb that death trap of a staircase. The last thing I wanted to do was get into a scuffle in the dark. The night dragged on like molasses in winter.

Every creek of the old tower, every rustle in the trees, it all felt amplified a thousand times. None of us slept. Joe, Tom, and Lily tried to stay as still as possible, probably afraid the whole damn tower would collapse beneath us. I sat there, stiff and sore, trying not to cry every time my leg throbbed. By the time the first fingers of light crept over the horizon, we were half dead from fear and exhaustion. And just like that, poof, she was gone. No trace, no sound, no footprints. We limped down the stairs, careful not to break through another step.

The rest of our supplies were mostly gone. She'd left the stuff that wasn't useful, empty food wrappers, an old sock, a flashlight with dead batteries. Tom and Joe took turns helping me hobble back. Fourteen hours had passed since I messed up my leg. It felt like four days. By the time I collapsed on my couch and peeled off my boot, my ankle was swollen and purple. To this day, I still don't know who that woman was. Maybe just some recluse who decided the forest was her kingdom. Maybe something worse.

You know what really chills me, though? It didn't hit me until later, but my busted leg might have saved us all. What if we had camped on the ground? If that woman had waited until we were all asleep and then crept in? Who knows what might have happened? Honestly, it haunts me. It's the kind of experience that clings to your memory no matter how many years go by. One of those stories you tell people when you're swapping creepy tales around a bonfire.

This all happened during my high school years, back in 2008, a time I wasn't exactly proud of. High school sucked. Let's just put that out there. I didn't get along with the cliques, the teachers, the wannabe jocks or the gossip queens. I was one of those kids who saw the whole thing as a pointless mess of fake smiles and power trips. So I checked out, mentally first, and then literally. My mom, a schoolteacher herself, go figure, wasn't thrilled. She tried the whole, education is the key to your future, speech on me about a hundred times. But I was a stubborn, impulsive teenager with the attention span of a housefly and the decision-making skills of a caffeinated squirrel.

After flunking my freshman year, I got transferred to this alternative school called Moore Mickens. The place had a rep, mostly for being a last resort for pregnant teens, troublemakers, and burnout cases like myself. They had a special program that could get you your diploma a year early. I was supposed to be class of 2011, but with this setup, I could become class of 2010. One year off my sentence. Sign me up.

The first day there was a day there. felt like a reboot. New place, new faces, same old me. I sat by myself during breakfast, surrounded by girls with baby bumps and guys who looked like they'd done time in Jovey. I was a fish out of water even in a pond full of misfits. That's when I saw George. He was one of the few people I remembered from my old school. We weren't close, but we'd talked before. He was weird, like, quiet weird, not stabby weird. Or so I thought. He recognized me too and sat with me, and we talked. Small stuff. Reconnecting. Later that day, as I was waiting in the parking lot for my sister to pick me up, George was waiting for his ride too. We started chatting again.

Normal stuff at first. Then, not so normal. How was your day? I am. I am. I. I am. I. I am. I. I am. I. asked. Sucked, he said. People are so stupid. I wish I could just kill them all. Um, yeah, sure, I replied, trying to brush it off. I'm serious. I'd bring a gun. Moe them all down. I hate people, and that's when I was like, okay, time to nope out. Cool, man. There's my sister, catch you later. he just stared at me with this hollow look like he wasn't really seeing me at all. Now, you're probably thinking, why the hell didn't you report that? And honestly, I should have. But at the time, I was distracted, overwhelmed, and I wrote it off as angsty teenage talk.

We were at a school for troubled kids. Creepy rants came with the territory. A few days later, George and I ended up in the same art class. The teacher was cool, she looked at. let me draw skulls and zombies instead of doing her weird, interpretive expression assignments. I sat at a table with George and two other dudes. We weren't really talking, I was working on a sketch of Iron Maidens, the trooper, and vibing to my own little world. Then George got up, walked across the room, and tore down a map of the school taped next to the door. He brought it

back to our table, sat down, and started drawing on it with a red pen. What are you doing, one of the guys asked. George didn't even look up. You'll see. Everyone will. Cue uncomfortable silence. I felt that tingled down my spine, like my instincts were trying to slap me awake. And I remembered what he'd said in the parking lot. But again, I said nothing. A couple days after that, I was heading to art class again. Right as I reached the door, it swung open. A cop came out, leading George down the hallway in handcuffs. The principal followed behind, her face pale as a ghost. George looked me straight in the eye as he passed.

His stare was ice-cold. No words. Just that look. Like he was saying, you knew. Turns out, George had dropped more hints than just what he told me. A few other students, especially the teen moms, took his threats seriously and said something. That led the school to dig into his online presence. On his MySpace page, they found posts that sounded way too much like a school shooting plan.

And this is Florida. That kind of stuff gets attention real quick. The police raided his house. They found over two dozen guns, all registered to his grandfather, locked in a cabinet. But let's be real, if George had wanted to get to them, he probably could have. The kid was smart in a creepy way. He never came back. Nothing ever happened, thank God.

But I still wonder what would have gone down if nobody had said anything. If those girls hadn't spoken up. If I hadn't dodged his crazy by a hair, more Mickens eventually got shut down a few years later. Shame, really. Aside from that incident, it wasn't all bad. I got my act together there. graduated with the class of 2010, just like I'd hoped.

As for George, I don't know what happened to him. Juvenile detention. Mental institution. Maybe prison. I never looked him up. Didn't want to. But I'll never forget that moment in art class, the way he said it, with that little smirk and dead eyes, you'll see. Everyone will, to be continued.