Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Terrifying Real Encounters at Parks, Playlands, and Theme Parks That Still Haunt PART2 #21

Episode Date: October 20, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #parkhorrorstories #creepyencounters #themeparkfear #playlandterror #truefear  Part 2 of Terrifying Real Encounters at Parks, Playlands, and Theme Parks That Still Haunt continues with more true-life chilling experiences. From unexpected encounters with strangers to unnerving incidents in amusement areas, these stories show that fear can lurk in even the most seemingly safe and joyful environments. Readers are reminded that danger can strike in the most ordinary places.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, parkhorrorstories, creepyencounters, themeparkfear, playlandterror, truefear, chillingencounters, unsettlingmoments, nightmarefuel, darkencounters, publicplacehorror, unsettlingexperiences, urbanhorror, fearintheparks, terrifyingtrueevents

Horror. The Woman at the Raging Bull, a memory that still haunts me. Even now, more than a decade later, just thinking back to that summer night still makes my stomach twist. I can feel goosebumps rise on my arms when I replay the memory in my head, like some kind of old film reel that insists on flickering to life whenever I least expected. It was the summer of 2008. Middle School was finally behind me, and I was standing at that strange edge of childhood where you're not really a little kid anymore, but you're definitely not a teenager in the full sense either. I had just wrapped up eighth grade, which meant high school was looming like this huge shadow I wasn't sure I was ready for.

To make things even more awkward, I was 13, but I still looked about 10. My parents had put me in school a bit early, so I was always the youngest in my class. On top of that, puberty had decided to skip me entirely until late into high school, so I was short, skinny, and basically looked like the kid brother tagging along with the real eighth graders. There was absolutely no way anyone could have mistaken me for an adult, not in my build, not in my face, not in my voice. That summer, our big eighth grade trip was a visit to Six Flags Great America. If you've ever been there, you know it's not just some small, small town carnival. It's a massive, full-on amusement park, with roller coasters that look like

steel monsters climbing into the sky, thrill rides that make your stomach drop just by watching, and entire sections filled with the smell of fried food, popcorn and cotton candy. For a kid like me, it was overwhelming in the best way possible. Discovering roller coasters. The thing about this trip was it was the first time I was actually tall enough to ride the big roller coasters. In years past, I'd stood next to those You Must Be This Tall to Ride signs and felt the sting of disappointment when the ride operator shook their head. But this year, this year, I finally made the cut, barely. Maybe an inch or two over the minimum height requirement, but still, it was enough.

And let me tell you, when you've spent your whole life watching roller coasters from the side, sidelines, finally getting to ride them feels like a right of passage. I wasn't interested in funnel cakes or arcade games or even sitting around with my friends chatting. No, I wanted speed, loops, drops, and that feeling in your stomach when gravity just lets go. At first, I was in a group of about six classmates. We stuck together for the early rides, spinning teacup-style things, log flumes, the smaller coasters. But after a a while, most of the group wanted to slow down, grab something to eat, maybe chill on a bench. Meanwhile, I was just getting started. My friend Kevin, who was one of the only other people in the

group as obsessed with roller coasters as I was, felt the same way. So Kevin and I split off, waving goodbye to the others as they went in search of nachos and giant sodas. We were on a mission, ride as many roller coasters as possible before the park closed. The raging goal. If you've ever been to Great America, you probably know about the raging bull. If you haven't, let me paint the picture. It's this massive steel hypercoaster, one of the tallest and fastest in the park. From the ground, it looks like it scrapes the clouds.

The first drop alone is a monster, 200 feet straight down. your stomach shooting into your throat as you scream your lungs out. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, the kind of ride that makes you feel like you've unlocked some new level of existence when you survive it. So, naturally, we wanted to ride it again. By this time, the day was winding down. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky and streaks of orange and purple, and the park was buzzing with that last hour energy,

where everyone wants to squeeze in just one more ride. The line was long, but Kevin and I didn't care. We'd already conquered the Raging Bowl once, and we were ready for round two. The nausea kicks in. Here's the thing I hadn't factored into my master plan of riding coasters non-stop. I get motion sickness.

Not the kind where you puke instantly, but the kind where your body slowly betrays you, ride after ride. It starts with a little dizziness, then a headache, then the world feels like it's shifting sideways even when you're standing still. Earlier in the day, it wasn't so bad. After a ride, I'd feel woozy for a few minutes, then recovered just in time to get in line for the next one.

But by the second time we were in line for the raging... Hi, I'm Darren Marler. Host of the Weird Darkness podcast. I want to talk about the most important tool in my podcast belt. Spreaker is the all-in-one platform that makes it easy to record, host and distribute your show everywhere, from Apple Podcasts to Spotify. But the real game changer for me was Spreeker's monetization. Spreaker offers dynamic ad insert insert ads into your episodes.

No editing required. And with Spreker's programmatic ads, they'll bring the ads to you, and you get paid for every download. This turned my podcasting hobby into a full-time career. Sprinker also has a premium subscription model where your most dedicated listeners can pay for bonus content or early access, adding another revenue stream to what you're already doing. And the best part, Spreaker grows with you. Whether you're just starting out or running a full-blown podcast network, Spreker's powerful tools scale effortlessly as your show grows.

So if you're ready to podcast like a pro and get paid while doing it, check out Spreaker.com. That's S-P-R-E-A-K-E-R.com. I already felt the nausea creeping in, clawing its way through my head and stomach. I didn't want to admit it, though. I was 13, and Kevin was my friend, and the last thing I wanted was to look weak or lame. So I got on the ride again, hoping maybe the thrill would override the nausea. Spoiler, it didn't.

The second I stepped off the ride, I knew I'd made a mistake. The world spun around me like I just stepped off a merry-go-round that had been going at top speed for an hour. My head pounded, my stomach lurched, and I had to grab onto the nearest railing just to keep myself upright. Meanwhile, Kevin was grinning ear to ear, talking about how awesome the drop had been, already suggesting we go again. I shook my head, groaning. Dude, I can't. I feel like I'm going to puke. Kevin hesitated, then glanced at the line. Well, I kind of want to go one more time before the park closes, just one last ride. I told him to go for it, that I'd wait for him on a bench outside the entrance. He didn't want to ride alone, but when he saw how pale and miserable I looked,

he finally gave in. Fine, but wait right here, okay? I nodded, sinking onto a nearby bench. The bench. That bench felt like heaven. I closed my eyes, letting the sounds of the park wash over me. The distant screams from riders, the pounding bass of whatever pop song was playing over the speakers, the laughter of groups passing by. figured I just needed 10 minutes to recover. Kevin would come back, and then we'd head out with the rest of the class. But that's when things took a turn. I started to notice someone saying, hello. At first, I thought it was just part of the general noise of the park. Someone greeting a friend, calling out to their group, I ignored it. But then I realized it wasn't fading into the

background like all the other sounds. It was persistent. Hello, hello, hello, hello. It was like the word was drilling into my brain. Finally, it clicked that the person wasn't calling out to someone else. They were calling out to me. I opened my eyes and turned my head. Standing there, just a few feet away, was a woman I had never seen before. The woman. She looked normal, totally, completely normal.

Mid-30s, maybe. Shoulder-length hair, casual clothes. wasn't dressed like a park employee, no uniform, no name tag, just jeans and a t-shirt like any other visitor. And she was smiling at me. Not a creepy smile, not at first, just a friendly, approachable one. Sorry, I blurted out automatically, my people-pleaser instincts kicking in. I didn't realize you were talking to you. She laughed lightly. Don't worry, sweetheart, what's your name? Without thinking, I told her my first name. Back then, I didn't really consider that giving out your name to a stranger might not be a good idea. Wow, she said, smiling wider, that's such a lovely name. I remember

thinking that was weird, because my name is about as common and plain as it gets. No one ever called it lovely, but I brushed it off. Then, almost immediately she asked, do you want to ride the raging bull with me? My stomach dropped, not from the roller coaster this time, but from confusion. I shook my head politely. No, thank you. I'm not feeling well. Oh, come on, she said, her tone playful. You'll be fine, let's go. I forced a smile. I really shouldn't. I'll probably puke if I get back on. She ignored my excuse, still smiling. Don't worry about it. Just come on already. Her persistence was unsettling. I again. Sorry, I'm waiting for my friend. He'll be back soon. If I get on, he won't know where I am. He can wait for you here, she said smoothly. Don't worry, it's no big deal. It'll make you feel better.

Her words slid past my protests like she wasn't even... Hi, I'm Darren Marler. Host of the Weird Darkness podcast. I want to talk about the most important tool in my podcast belt. Spreaker is the all-in-one platform that makes it easy to record, host, and distribute your show everywhere from Apple Podcasts to Spotify. But the real game changer for me was Spreeker's monetization. Spreaker offers dynamic ad insert ad insert ads into your episodes. No editing required. And with Spreaker's programmatic ads, they'll bring the ads to you, and you get paid for every download. This turned my podcasting hobby into a full-time career. Spreaker also has a premium subscription model where your most dedicated listeners can pay for bonus content or early access, adding another revenue stream to what you're

already doing. And the best part, Spreaker grows with you. Whether you're just starting out or running a full-blown podcast network, Sprinker's powerful tools scale effortlessly as your show grows. So if you're ready to podcast like a pro and get paid while doing it, check out Spreaker.com. That's S-P-R-E-A-K-E-R. Hearing me, it was like she had a script in her head and was determined to stick to it. Finally, I reminded her that the park was closing soon, so there wasn't any point. That's when she said something that made my blood run cold. I work here, so it's fine. Only, she wasn't wearing a uniform.

No staff polo, no badge, nothing, just regular clothes. And the way she said it, it didn't sound like an offhand comment. It sounded like a tactic. She must have noticed the doubt on my face, because her tone shifted. To be continued.