Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Terrifying Encounters in North Carolina Near-Abductions, Stalkers, and Escapes PART1 #74

Episode Date: November 6, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #NCterrifyingencounters #nearabductions #stalkerhorrorstories #escapestories #truecrimestories  Part 1 recounts terrifying real-life encounters in North Carolina, including near-abductions, persistent stalkers, and narrow escapes. These chilling stories reveal how quickly ordinary situations can turn dangerous, showing the fear and survival instincts that emerge when faced with real-life threats.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truehorrorstories, NCencounters, nearabductionstories, stalkerencounters, escapehorrorstories, creepyexperiences, unsettlingmoments, chillingencounters, survivalstories, terrifyingmoments, realhorrorstories, spookytales, nightmarestories, frighteningexperiences

A snowstorm, a stranger, and one very weird afternoon. A couple of winters back, I ended up in one of the strangest and honestly creepiest situations of my life. At the time, I was interning in Charlotte, North Carolina. It wasn't glamorous, long hours, coffee runs, spreadsheets I didn't understand, but it was part of the grind. Anyway, this story doesn't start in the office, it starts after I clocked out one snowy afternoon. Now, let me pause and say this. If you're from the South, you already know how it goes when the weather forecast whispers the word snow. It doesn't even have to actually snow yet, just the possibility of a couple flakes, and suddenly every grocery store looks like the end of the world is coming. Bread? Gone. Milk? Gone. Eggs? Forget it. People act like they're going to be snowed in for three months when really it's

probably going to melt by tomorrow afternoon. But that day, the weatherman had been right. It had snowed all morning and it was still coming down pretty hard when I left work. By the time I got in my truck, the city already looked like a ghost town. The streets were covered, the sidewalks empty. You could tell only people with four-wheel drives or trucks like mine were brave enough to move around. So I figured, hey, this is the perfect time to grab grocery. The chaos had probably died down by now. And I was right, Walmart was open, quiet, almost peaceful in a weird way. I loaded up my cart with the essentials, some frozen pizzas, snacks, hot chocolate, and enough junk food to last a snow apocalypse.

I was picturing myself spending the next two days sledding and watching movies with my girlfriend, who's now my wife. The whole thing felt cozy in my head, like I was prepping for a night. a mini holiday. I pushed my cart through the icy parking lot, snowflakes smacking my face, when it happened. Just as I was reaching for my truck door, I felt a hand grab my arm. Not a tap, not a gentle brush, a full-on grab that made my whole body jolt. My brain instantly went into fight or flight mode. I spun around, half ready to throw an elbow, and there she was, a woman, maybe mid-50s, bundled up in a cheap-looking coat. Her face was weathered, tired, the kind of face that looks like it's seen way too much life. She asked me the strangest first question.

Hey, do you have any cigarettes? That caught me off guard. I shook my head and said, no, sorry. I don't smoke. I expected that to be the end of it, but she tugged on my sleeve again, she wasn't done. She started telling me her story right there in the snow. According to her, she'd just gotten into town from Alabama. She had her granddaughter and a dog with her. She was here because she had breast cancer and was getting treatments. The way she told it, she needed money for a hotel room because she had nowhere else to go. Now, I've never been great in situations like this. Part of me felt sorry for her. Another part of me was instantly suspicious.

I told her honestly, look, I don't have cash on me. Which was true. Even if I had, I've always had this thing about not giving out money to strangers, not because I'm heartless, but because you never know if you're just funding a drug habit. If someone's really hungry, I'd rather buy them food than hand over bills. She didn't look too thrilled with my answer. Then she asked me, do you know the area where? well. Now, here's where I made my first mistake. I just wanted to end the conversation, so I

lied and said, no, not really. I figured she'd just give up and let me go. Wrong. Instead, she smiled and said, that's okay. Could you maybe give me a ride to my hotel? My granddaughter and our dog are waiting in the lobby for me. It's just up the road, I can show you where. And here's where my brain and my upbringing started fighting each other. Everything inside me screamed, don't do it. Just say no. Get in your truck and leave. But then there's the other side of me, the side that was raised in a Christian household,

the side that was always told to help people in need, the side that feels guilty for lying. So, after a moment of hesitation, I sighed and said, okay, I can give you a ride. I tried to justify it to myself, I'm six feet tall, not exactly fragile, and she was just one older lady. What's the worst that could happen? She climbed into my truck, and that's when I noticed red flag number one. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. Now, remember how she'd asked me earlier if I had cigarettes? Clearly, she already had some.

That little detail didn't click in my head until later. At the time, I just asked politely if she could put it out, which she did by tossing it out the window. We started driving, and I stayed on high alert. I wasn't stupid. My gut told me something was off. While we were rolling through the snowy streets, she kept digging around in her purse, glancing at me sideways like she was checking my reaction. I finally snapped a little and said, just so you know, I have a gun in the truck. so don't try anything crazy. And that wasn't a bluff. There really was a shotgun lying across the back seat,

I'd forgotten to take it out a couple days earlier. Now, realistically, if she had pulled a gun out of her purse, I wouldn't have had time to reach mine. But she didn't know that. The second I mentioned the gun, she froze, pulled her hand out of her purse, and instead dug a phone out of her jacket. She looked at me and said, actually, can we make a quick detour?

I need to pick up some money from a friend. At this point, the red flags weren't just waving, they were basically slapping me in the face. But for some reason, I still didn't kick her out. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was fear of being wrong, maybe it was just me being young and dumb. So I reluctantly said, fine, but we need to make it quick. She dialed someone and said into the phone, yeah, this guy's bringing me over to get the stuff. You're ready, right? That word, stuff, hit me wrong.

I immediately asked to talk to whoever was on the other end. When the guy got on, he sounded like his lungs were made of sandpaper. Total chain smoker voice. I asked him straight up, what's your name? Do you know any hotels around here? The guy stumbled over his words, muttered something I couldn't even make out, then said, I got to go, and hung up. That should have been my exit.

I should have pulled over, told her to get out, and driven home. But of course, I didn't. Instead, I kept going because part of me was still convinced maybe, just maybe, her story was real. But then the contradictions started piling up. Think about it, she said she came all the way from Alabama with her granddaughter and their dog for cancer treatment. Yet somehow, she also had a local friend who owed her money. Why didn't she just call that friend to pick her up from Walmart instead of asking a stranger? None of it added up.

As we turned down a side street, I spotted a police car parked on the shoulder. For a split second, I thought about pulling over, telling the officer what was happening. and letting him deal with it. But then another wave of guilt washed over me. What if she really is telling the truth? What if I embarrass her in front of a cop when all she wanted was a ride? So I kept driving. That's when she smiled, this weird, unsettling smile, and said,

I'm glad the police are here. Now I feel safe. Those words sent a chill down my spine. Eventually, we pulled into an apartment complex. If I had to paint a picture, it looked like the kind of place you'd expect to see in a crime drama. Run down buildings, broken blinds hanging out of windows, the kind of vibe that screams drug deals and trouble. Even covered in snow, it looked sketchy. She pointed to one of the buildings and said, park right there.

I pulled in and killed the engine. She turned to me and said, Okay, I'm just going to run in and grab my friend. I'll be right back. But before she opened the door, she caught the look on my face. I guess I wasn't hiding my unease very well. She narrowed her eyes and said, You know, if you leave me here in this weather with my condition,

you're a terrible person. That was it. The guilt trip. And it made me angry. I'd already gone out of my way for her, against my better judgment. I had risked my own safety. And now she was trying to make me feel bad for wanting out. I sat there gripping the steering wheel, watching her step out of my truck, thinking,

What the hell did I just get myself into? And that's where I'll leave it, because what happened next only got weirder. To be continued.