Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Terrifying Encounters in the New Mexico Desert With Stalkers, Killers, and Creatures PART3 #67

Episode Date: October 26, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #desertterror #truecreepystories #mysteriousevents #haunteddesert #fearencounters  In Part 3, the terrifying encounters in the New Mexico desert escalate. Survivors recount darker confrontations with stalkers and killers, while the presence of bizarre, almost inhuman creatures grows stronger. The line between real-world horror and the supernatural blurs, leaving readers to question whether the desert itself is cursed or alive with something sinister.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, desertfear, killersinthedark, stalkers, desertcreatures, supernaturalencounters, hauntedlands, survivalhorrors, trueparanormal, creepydesertstories, unexplainedhorror, darkencounters, mysteryinthewoods, terrifyingnights, cursedplaces

Shadows on the Desert Highway. I want to make something crystal clear before I start. I don't know what I saw out there, but I know I don't ever want to see it again. I'm not writing this for attention, or to try to spook people around a campfire. I'm telling this because maybe, just maybe, it will stop someone else from putting themselves in the same situation. Think of this as both a warning and an education. You can decide which side of that you fall on.

Because here's the truth, the desert at night is not empty. Homeward Bound So let's rewind. I go to school in a small mountain town in Colorado. You know the type, ski shops, overpriced coffee places, and students with puffy jackets who look like they're about to hike Everest just to go to class. I like it well enough, but my family is in Texas, and my cat lives there too. And yes, I'll admit it, I sometimes miss the cat more than I miss the people.

Every break, I make the drive south. That means hours of road cutting through New Mexico. Santa Fe, Albuquerque if I swing the route right, and then about 160 miles of pure, bare desert. People who haven't seen New Mexico think dessert just means sand. Wrong. It's miles and miles of nothingness, flat. scrub, broken mesas, the occasional cluster of abandoned shacks, and it can swallow you whole if you're not careful.

On this particular trip, I wasn't alone. My younger sister Andrea was with me, plus two friends from school, Jess and Kate. It was spring break, and instead of paying for overpriced plane tickets, we decided to cram ourselves into my beat-up Mercury Mariner and hit the highway. trips always felt more exciting anyway. The plan was simple, leave early, snack heavy, play terrible playlists, and roll into Texas before sunrise. But plans and reality rarely get along. A late start. We left later than we'd meant to, because of me, of course. I'd forgotten my wallet back at my apartment, and by the time we doubled back and got on the highway again, it was already

getting late. By the time we reached Santa Fe, the sky was pitch black, and the weather had turned. Rain followed us like a shadow, not pouring, but steady. It was 65 degrees out, which honestly felt tropical compared to the sub-zero temps I'd been suffering in Colorado. I remember being ridiculously happy about that, even rolling down my window a little to let the air in. My friends Teased me about it, but I didn't care. Little did I know that a few hours later, I'd be begging for any sense of normality. The first sign. Fast forward to 1 a.m.

We were deep into the desert stretch, the kind of road where the headlights seemed to cut into infinity, where no matter how far you drive, the horizon never changes. Everyone was half asleep, Andrea dozing against the window, just scrolling silently, Kate mumbling to herself in the back seat. I had the wheel, and the steady rhythm of the rain kept me awake. That's when it happened. We passed a white Prius heading the opposite direction. Totally normal.

But as its taillights faded in the mirror, I saw something. Something crossing the road. At first I thought it was a person, maybe someone drunk or injured. Its gait was wrong, though. It moved with this horrible limp, dragging one leg like it barely worked. But what really froze my blood was that it was walking upright, on two legs, but the motion, it wasn't natural. It was like watching a marionette with tangled strings.

My stomach dropped. I slammed on the brake so hard that the car skidded, stopping just 20 feet away. The Prius ahead of us must have. have seen it too, because it slowed, then, tires screeching, took off like a bat out of hell. Gone. I should have done the same. But no. Curiosity got me. I cracked open my door, leaned into the rain, and tried to get a better look. The thing. The red glow of taillights lit the figure enough to see. And dear God, I wish I hadn't looked. It wasn't human. Not even close.

It had to be seven feet tall, maybe more. Its skin looked like it had been stretched over its body the wrong way, too tight in some places, torn and hanging in long strips and others. Imagine someone wearing a shirt that's three sizes too small, then ripping it apart in patches, that's what its skin looked like. Its jaw hung loose, crooked, almost unhinged. cheekbones jutted out sharp and sickly, the scalp patchy with skin so thin you could see bone beneath, dotted with bloody spots like scabs torn open again and again. And then the smell hit me. I gagged immediately. It was the stench of rot, like meat left out in the sun for weeks.

Rotten milk. Garbage juice. The kind of odor that makes your nostrils burn and your stomach revolt. The figure stopped. Slowly, it turned its head toward me. I heard every vertebra crack as it moved, like someone twisting bubble wrap. And where eyes should have been? Nothing. Just black pits.

Empty holes staring right into me. Fight or flight finally kicked in. I slammed my door shut so fast it rattled the glass and floored the gas pedal. The escape. The engine roared. Mud and rain sprayed behind us. My friends jolted awake instantly. Kate, in the back seat, saw it clearly.

She started screaming, high-pitched, panicked, non-stop. Jess went completely silent, her mouth moving in what looked like a prayer. My sister Andrea didn't scream, but tears streamed down her face. She stared out the back window, frozen in pure terror. Kate shrieked over and over, what the, expletive, was that? I didn't answer. My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel, the speedometer climbing past 80. And then, as if things weren't bad enough, the temperature dropped. I swear to you, it had been 65 degrees just minutes before.

Suddenly, it was 30. My breath fogged the windshield. Then came the snow. Snow in the New Mexico desert. At one in the morning. It swirled around the headlights, thick and heavy, falling so fast the road almost vanished. The aftermath. We finally pulled off at a gas station, one of those lonely places

with flickering lights and vending machines that look like they haven't been stocked since the 90s. None of us moved at first. Andrea was quietly sobbing. Jess clutched a cross-pendant, whispering prayers under her breath. Kate just shook, pale as chalk, muttering curses like mantras. What the, expletive, just happened, she finally screamed. I didn't know what to say. My voice shook as I managed, I don't know.

But we can't stay here. We have to keep moving. I eased the car back onto the road, every nerve and my body screaming to just get out. The rest of the drive was silent. No more laughter, no more playlists, just the hum of tires on asphalt and the sound of four people trying not to lose their minds. We made it to Texas by 6 a.m., all of us exhausted.

and hollow-eyed. The thing that followed. That night has haunted me since. I've replayed it over and over in my mind, searching for some kind of logical explanation. Was it a hallucination? No. We all saw it.

A trick of the light. Impossible. The details were too vivid. The only thing I've found that comes close are the legends of skinwalkers or shapeshifters. Beings that wear flesh-like clothing. Creatures that walk between worlds. But even that explanation doesn't sit right.

This thing, it looked wrong. Like it wasn't finished, like it was in the middle of becoming something and got stuck. And the worst part. Sometimes I wonder if leaving was enough. Because if legends are true, sometimes when you see them, they don't just let you go. My warning.

So here's why I'm writing this. Please listen. Please believe me. I am not crazy. I am not lying. I know what I saw, and I know it wasn't human. Do not go looking for it. Don't go wandering the desert at night thinking you'll get some cool ghost story out of it.

because if you find it, it might follow you back. And some things should never leave the desert. Final note. They say fear is a survival mechanism. A reminder that we are fragile, that we are prey as much as predator. Out there, on that lonely stretch of New Mexico Highway, I met fear face-to-face. And fear looked back at me with empty black pits where eyes should have been. And I'll tell you this, there's always a reason to be afraid.

The end.