Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Terrifying Encounters with Unknown Creatures, Haunted Halls, and a Missing Girlfriend PART3 #19

Episode Date: October 30, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #unknowncreatures #hauntedhalls #missinggirlfriend #truehorrorstories #supernaturalencounters  Part 3 concludes the terrifying series of encounters with unknown creatures, haunted halls, and the disappearance of a girlfriend. The stories reach their most suspenseful and frightening moments, combining elements of the supernatural, mystery, and real-life danger. This final installment emphasizes survival, fear, and the lasting psychological impact of facing the unknown.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, unknowncreatures, hauntedhalls, missinggirlfriend, suspenseandterror, dangerousencounters, frighteningexperiences, realhorrorstories, nearfatalencounters, supernaturalhorror, chillingencounters, unexpecteddanger, paranormalactivity, eerieencounters, truecrimehorror

The Long Legs Nightmares I need to warn you right from the start, this is not an easy story for me to tell. Every time I revisit these memories, I feel that same sinking dread in my stomach, that same cold sweat forming on the back of my neck, and that same bone-deep certainty that whatever I saw that night was real.

Not a dream, not a trick of the mind, not a campfire tale. Real. It all began with the silhouette. The descent. The shadow figure appeared at the top of the wooden basement steps, framed in that rectangle of faint light spilling from above. At first, it looked human, tall, broad-shouldered, draped in what seemed like a long, hooded

coat. But the longer I looked, the less human it seemed. As it started to descend, the transformation began. It's hard to put into words what I saw, because it wasn't like to be. the figure simply, changed, in one clean motion. No. It shifted in this disturbing, broken, unnatural way, like my eyes couldn't fully keep up with what was happening.

One moment it had arms, the next those arms bent backwards and elongated into something like legs. Its body stretched, twisted, and reformed itself into an enormous spider-like thing, its limbs bending at sickening angles, sprouting from places where no limb should exist. I felt hot tears streamed down my cheeks. I clamped my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming, but my sobs still shook my body. My eyes stayed locked on the creature as it clambered lower and lower, closer to the desk where I hid. By the time it reached the floor, it was massive.

Its body was a bloated silhouette of nightmare flesh, supported by several grotesquely long legs that scraped and tapped against the rotten basement floorboards. It stopped just a few feet away from the desk. I swear I could feel its presence pressing against me, like static electricity crawling across my skin. The thing paused there. Then, as if losing interest, it pivoted, its legs scraping in a slow circle, and it vanished deeper into the basement's darkness.

The moment it disappeared from sight, my body finally gave in. I pissed myself. Literally. Not a figure of speech. Warmth spread across my genes, and I couldn't control it. Shame was the last thing on my mind. I was too consumed by fear. For about five minutes I stayed there, frozen, trembling under that desk in complete darkness. My breath came out in shallow gasps. I thought if I moved, even an inch, that thing would return and tear me apart. Then I heard something that I will never forget.

A voice. Not just any voice, but one that sounded as though it had been dragged across gravel, guttural and ancient, echoing through the basement even though it came from nowhere and everywhere at once. Please, leave my home, young man. The flight That was enough for me. I bolted. I squirted. scrambled out from under the desk, nearly tripping over my own feet as I shot toward the stairs.

I didn't even breathe until I was bursting through the front door, gulping in the cool Kentucky evening air. And there was Randy. He was sitting casually on his bike in the cul-de-sac, smirking like he'd been waiting the whole time. Ha! I knew you went down into the basement, he said, pointing at me. No way was I going down there. I figured you were just hiding, waiting to jump out.

But, dude, did you seriously piss yourself? He laughed. I didn't say a single word. I just grabbed my bike, mounted it with shaking legs, and started peddling hard toward home. Randy called after me, still laughing, then followed behind making jokes about the wet stain on my pants. Back at my house, I finally tried to explain. I told him everything, the figure, the transformation, the voice. He didn't buy any of it.

Not a word. To him, it was just me being a baby, just me making excuses for an embarrassing accident. For years, I wondered if maybe he was right. The Long Legs Monster I told myself it had just been a dream. That I must have dozed off under that desk, maybe suffocated on mildew and rot and dreamed the whole thing. That explanation comforted me for a long time.

Until, years later, I heard stories online. They called it the Long Legs Monster. According to the stories, it often first appears as a hooded man, just as I'd seen at the top of the stairs. But then it reveals its true form, a grotesque, spider-like creature with unnaturally long limbs. People had spotted it in abandoned places, old houses, or forests across the northeast. The similarities to my own experience were impossible to ignore. Was that what I had seen? The skeptic

Here's the thing, I've never been the kind of guy to believe in ghosts or cryptids or monsters. I always rolled my eyes at horror movies. Sure, they were fun, but scary. Nah. I wasn't the type to get spooked easily. But my outlook has changed. Something happened recently. Something I can't laugh off or bury under, maybe it was just a dream. This time, I know what I saw. This time, I know I wasn't imagining it. The woods in Manitoba

I live now in Manitoba, out in a small house I inherited from my grandfather. It's quiet, remote, and for the most part, peaceful. The nearest town, St. Andrews, is 30 minutes away. My closest neighbor is at least two miles from me. After years of city life, Ottawa, then Calgary, I welcomed the change. I have a remote job with a company in Winnipeg, a steady routine, and my golden retriever, Roxy, to keep me company. It was about one in the morning.

I was dozing off in front of the TV, watching an old wrestling program, when I heard something outside. At first, I thought maybe it was the wind. But then I heard it again, a sound like a mountain lion, low and pissed off, rumbling through the trees. Roxy immediately bolted under the bed,

whimpering. Gee, thanks for the best. back up, I muttered, grabbing my shotgun from the closet. I stepped outside, shotgun in hand. The sky was clear, moonlight bright enough to see across the property. The dirt driveway cut through the wall of trees and the woods looms silent and still. But I felt it. That same feeling from all those years ago. The feeling of being watched. I should have stayed inside. I should have should have locked the doors and ignored it. But instead, I loaded extra shells into the Remington, clipped on my flashlight, pulled on my boots, and headed into the woods.

Into the trees. I can't explain why I did it. Maybe boredom. Maybe curiosity. Maybe something deeper, some urge I didn't understand. The moment I stepped beneath the trees, the moonlight vanished, swallowed by the canopy overhead. The forest became a cave, dark and endless. My flashlight beam cut between trunks, flicking from shadow to shadow. Nothing. Just silence. But the dread stayed with me. After 20 minutes of walking, I finally started to feel like an idiot.

If something was out there, it clearly wasn't showing itself. So I turned to head back. That's when I heard it. A twig snapping. Close. Who's there? I shouted, shotgun raised. My flashlight found a tree just ahead.

Something peaked out from behind it. A head. A face. And a blood-covered hand gripping the trunk. I froze. Come out. I yelled, my voice cracking. Slowly, the figure stepped into the light. And what I saw.

To be continued.