Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Terrifying Encounters with Unknown Creatures, Haunted Halls, and a Missing Girlfriend PART2 #18

Episode Date: October 30, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #unknowncreatures #hauntedhalls #missinggirlfriend #truehorrorstories #supernaturalencounters  Part 2 continues the chilling events involving mysterious creatures, haunted locations, and the frightening disappearance of a girlfriend. The stories escalate in suspense, featuring unnerving encounters and terrifying experiences that test the characters’ courage and wits. This installment emphasizes fear, unpredictability, and the eerie tension of facing the unknown.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, unknowncreatures, hauntedhalls, missinggirlfriend, suspenseandterror, dangerousencounters, frighteningexperiences, realhorrorstories, nearfatalencounters, supernaturalhorror, chillingencounters, unexpecteddanger, paranormalactivity, eerieencounters, truecrimehorror

Shadows in the hall and the haunted mansion. It's strange how memory works. Some things fade quickly, like what you had for breakfast last Tuesday, or the name of that guy you met at a party once, but other memories. They cling to you like they've been carved into the inside of your skull. That night in the data hall, and later, the strange encounter in my childhood hometown, they're the kind of memories you can't shake. The kind that follow you no matter how far you run.

It all started with something that felt small at the time, me peeking around the side of a metal wiring frame, curious enough to risk one more look even though every inch of my body screamed not to. The thing in the data hall. What I saw made my heart collapse into itself. There it was, standing at the far corner of the outer aisle. A figure In the dim light, it looked like the sun. silhouette of some nightmare stitched together from mismatched parts. Its lower body was disturbingly thin, though same hind legs I'd glimpsed earlier, long, jointed in ways that didn't look

right, like it belonged more to a deer or a horse than anything human. But above that fragile looking base was a torso that was broad, muscular, and far too powerful. The contrast was horrifying. And then there were the eyes. Two glowing red eyes, locked on me. unblinking. The moment I realized it was staring straight at me, it felt like someone had dropped an anvil onto my chest. My ribs seemed to cave, my breath disappeared, and my body refused to move. I wasn't a person anymore, just pray frozen in headlights. For what felt like forever, nothing happened. Just me and it, staring at each other in the half-light. And then it started walking. Step.

Drag. Step. Trembling footsteps, heavy but uneven, echoing through the hall. It was coming toward me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But I couldn't. My legs might as well have been filled with concrete.

My jaw locked. The torch trembled in my hand, and for a moment I thought I might drop it. The creature came halfway down the aisle before something in my brain finally snapped back to life. My survival instincts kicked in, tearing through the paralysis, and I bolted. I don't remember deciding to run, I just remember the blur of motion. I shot out from behind the frame, sprinted through the hall, and didn't stop. I tore down the corridor, past the dark aisles and past the security office, my footsteps pounding louder than my own heartbeat. I didn't look back.

Through the lobby, past the front doors, into the night air, I kept moving until I was inside my car, fumbling for the keys with shaking hands. Somehow, I got the engine started. Tires squealed against the asphalt, and I drove like a man possessed. Every red light was ignored, every turn reckless, because all I cared about was putting as much distance as possible between me and that building. By the time I pulled up at home, my hands were still shaking so badly I almost couldn't pull the keys from the ignition. My mom was still awake, sitting in the living room when I staggered inside. She saw my face, pale and drenched in sweat, and immediately stood up, alarm written all over her. What happened? What's wrong? She demanded. I broke. I told her ever. I told her ever.

Everything. The footsteps, the purring, the red eyes, the way it came for me. My voice shook, cracked, and more than once I thought I might pass out from reliving it. To her credit, she didn't laugh. She didn't accuse me of being dramatic or overtired. Instead, she held me until my breathing slowed. She promised she'd look into it in the morning. That night, I didn't sleep. Every time I I closed my eyes, I saw those glowing red eyes in the dark. By morning, I knew one thing, I was done. Carl, the security guard, later told us again that I'd been the only one in the data hall that night. He swore no one else had entered or left. That only cemented my decision. I quit. There was no way I was stepping foot back in that place. I moved on, eventually.

Got a job as a sound engineer for a local production company. It's not glamorous, but the atmosphere is warm, human, safe. My mom pushed me to go to counseling, and I did. Slowly, the nightmares faded. The supposed hallucinations, if that's what they were, stopped. But the questions never left. What was it? Why there? Why me?

I don't know. Maybe I never will. And maybe, maybe that's for the best. The Haunted Mansion. That wasn't the first time I brushed against something unexplainable. I grew up in a small coal mining town in Kentucky, back in the early 90s. It was one of those places where everyone knew everyone else, where life revolved around the mine. When the mine shut down, the town withered. Families packed up and left, houses stood empty, streets grew silent. By the late 90s, the place was practically a ghost town. But my family stayed. A few others did too. Among the emptiness, we made what life we could. For me, the emptiness was exciting. I was a kid, maybe 11 at the time, and my best friend Randy and I had more freedom than most kids our age ever would.

With so many abandoned houses, the entire neighborhood became our playground. Our favorite spot was a house at the end of a cul-de-sac. We called it the haunted mansion. It was a two-story place, unlike the other houses, and it stood out like a rotten tooth. One side of it was blackened from fire damage, and the whole structure seemed to lean just slightly, like it was tired of standing. Later, as an adult, I learned the truth, the house. had burned in 1978, killing the old man who lived there. Nobody had touched it since. But at 11, we didn't care about mold or collapsing floorboards. To us, it was perfect.

A spooky kingdom for our games. That day, Randy and I rode our bikes down to the haunted mansion, ready for another round of manhunt. Our friend Kyle was supposed to join, but his mom had grounded him. We ditched our bikes in the bushes and headed inside. The air was thick with dust and mildew, the floors creaked with every step, and the fire damage gave everything a warped, sinister look. We loved it. This time, I was the hider. Randy counted by the front door while I crept off to find the best spot I could. I wanted to win. I chose the basement. Now, the basement was the one place we usually avoided. It reeked of rot, and it was pitch black except for the faint light spilling down the open stairwell. The door was long gone,

leaving just a dark, yawning rectangle at the top of the steps. I swallowed hard and forced myself down into the darkness. At the bottom, my eyes adjusted enough to see a lopsided old desk sitting crooked in the middle of the floor. It looked like it had been down there forever, forgotten. Perfect hiding spot. I crouched underneath, dust puffing up around me, and settled in. Through a few holes in the warped wood, I could see the stairs. My plan was simple, stay still, keep quiet, and watch. Time crawled.

Ten minutes, fifteen, maybe thirty. At first, I thought Randy had given up. Then I heard it, shuffling, faint but clear, on the floor of it. above me. I held my breath as a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. At first, I thought it was Randy. But no. The figure was too tall, much too tall. And it wasn't moving like him either. I squinted through the cracks of the desk, heart hammering. Whoever, or whatever, it was, they were wearing a long hooded coat. The hood cast their face in shadow.

They didn't move. They just stood there at the top of the stairs. And then, slowly, they began to descend. To be continued.