Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Terrifying Roller Rink Encounters Three Chilling True Stories of Fear on Skates #20

Episode Date: September 30, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #creepyencounters #truehorrorstories #nightmarefuel #scaryexperiences #unexplainedevents  Terrifying Roller Rink Encounters shares three true horror stories set in roller rinks. From mysterious figures lurking in the shadows to unnerving interactions that escalated fear, these tales show that terror can strike anywhere—even during a fun night on skates. Each story immerses readers in suspense, capturing moments of dread and the shocking reality that danger can appear in the most unexpected places.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, creepyencounters, truehorrorstories, nightmarefuel, scaryexperiences, unexplainedevents, chillingtales, unsettlingmoments, realnightmares, disturbingstories, stalkerstories, urbanhorrorstories, survivalstories, mysteriousoccurrences, truestoryhorror

I don't know why, but every time I think back to that night, the night I turned 18, it plays in my head like some badly cut horror movie that keeps skipping between fun, dumb teen chaos and full-blown what-the-hell moments. It started the way most bad ideas start, with tequila and the kind of friends who don't know how to say, hey, maybe that's not a good plan. My two best friends and I had somehow scored a bottle of tequila, which for us at the time was like discovering buried treasure. We didn't even bother pretending we were going to sip it like civilized people, nope,

we cracked it open and were tossing shots back in my dad's car before we'd even decided where to go. And because turning 18 apparently makes you think you're invincible, we decided to drive down to the shore of Lake Michigan to check out the old arcade. Now, this wasn't just any arcade. This place had been shut down for years because, and I'm not exaggerating, Jeffrey Freakin, Dahmer had apparently picked up one of his victims there. Yeah. Police had sealed it off after that, and the owners never reopened.

Everyone in town knew about it, but the building just sat there, rotting away by the lake like some giant haunted tomb for quarter machines and forgotten prizes. But here's the thing, on the far side of the building, there used to be a skate floor. One of my friends swore she knew a way to break in through that side. The plan? Get drunk, skate around in the dark, and then poke around the arcade just for the creepy vibes. We knew the games wouldn't work, no power, but maybe we'd find some old prizes, tickets,

or weird junk to take home. We parked my dad's car down by the lake, killed the headlights, and tiptoed our way to the side door. There was a faded little push sign on it, but my friend yanked instead of pushed, and it swung open with this slow, rusty groan. It only opened a few inches before a chain caught it, but there was just enough space for all three of us to squeeze through sideways like some kind of drunk penguin parade. The first thing we did after getting inside. Another shot of tequila. Obviously. Then out came the flashlights, and we started walking across the wide-open skate floor.

Our footsteps echoed in this weird, hollow way that made the place feel ten times bigger. Empty beer cans, candy wrappers, and random trash were scattered everywhere. But we weren't here to be sensible. We strapped on our skates right there in the dark and started rolling around like idiots. We didn't even make it one lap before disaster decided to show up early. One of my friends went down hard, tripping over something sticking up from the floor. We all skidded to a stop and shined our lights to see what she'd hit. turned out to be a red candle, melted so low it had basically glued itself to the wood.

Being the brain-dead kid I was, I thought it'd be funny to kick at it with my skate. Knocked a chunk of wax off, didn't think twice about it. I was about to keep rolling when my other friends swept her flashlight over the floor and froze. Uh, guys, she said. We all turned our lights to where she was pointing, and there it was. A circle. Not just any circle. but this huge painted one, with a bunch of smaller, tangled circles inside it.

Around it were five or six more candles, all burned down to little nubs. I laughed and said something like, looks like some exorcism crap went down here. My friends didn't laugh. They skated right into the middle of the circle, where the wood was charred and black, like someone had lit a bonfire right there indoors. One of them tilted her flashlight upward, scanning the rafters above the circle. Do you guys see anything, she asked. We followed her light.

Up there, dangling from a few rusty chains, was something. Something big, heavy-looking, and completely unrecognizable in the dark. The chains clinked a little when I jumped up and smacked one, because apparently I'd left my self-preservation instincts at home. Bad idea, I was wearing skates. My foot shot out from under me, and I slammed to the floor like, like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel. The instant I hit the ground, my friend screamed.

Not a, huh, you fell, scream. A real scream. She was grabbing her face, choking out halfwards. My other friend swung her flashlight toward her, and that's when we saw it, something thick and dark was dripping down her forehead, sliding between her eyes, and tracing a line down her nose.

It wasn't water. It wasn't candle wax. It was red. Dark, wet red. That was it, we lost our cool completely. Didn't even bother unstrapping the skates. We just awkwardly rolled our way to the door, half running, half sliding, shoving each other through the chain gap like we were being chased by a pack of wolves.

My friend actually drove us out of there with her skates still on. She swore up and down that she'd heard footsteps pounding behind. us as we left. I didn't hear anything, but I was buzzing hard from the beer I'd had before we even got there. We were in that building less than 20 minutes, but I still think about it. It's gone now, torn down a few years back, but whatever was hanging from those chains, yeah. I'll never have an answer. My gut still tells me that stuff that dripped on my friend wasn't paint or rust or anything normal. It was blood. You'd think that would have been my first and last weird roller-related story, but nope. Years later, I was part of an all-female roller derby league, the Flying Banshees.

If you've never played roller derby, let me just tell you, it's part sport, part brawl. You don't just have to be fast, you have to be tough enough to hit and get hit, and you have to be ready to knock someone on their ass without blinking. One of our matches was at this ancient, beat up roller rink that should have been condemned. The lights flickered like bad club strobe lights, and there was water dripping from the ceiling in random spots. Every time we looped around, we risked hitting a puddle and eating floor. Honestly, we should have just turned around and gone home,

but we'd driven three hours to get there, and prides a hell of a drug. Normally before a match, a coordinator checks everyone to make sure they're not hiding anything dangerous. One time, someone had actually snuck razor blades into their elbow pads. No joke. But for whatever reason, that day, no one bothered checking the other team. Halfway through the match, I was flying around the track trying to rack up points, when I collided hard with one of their players. She hit the floor, but I didn't hear the whistle, so I kept going. That's just the game, you hit, you get hit, you keep moving.

On my next lap, I saw her standing by the barrier, glaring at me like I just ruined her life. And just as I passed, she pulled something from under her shirt. My brain didn't even process it until the lights flickered again, and when they came back on, there was a knife sticking straight through the palm of my hand. Everything slowed down. I just stared at it, not even breathing, until the pain hit all at once. It felt like my hand had been crushed and set on fire. I went down, hard. Long story short, I got rushed to the ER, she got arrested for assault

with a deadly weapon, and apparently, it wasn't her first time pulling something like that. I came back to practice with my hand in a brace, and my team started calling me, Claw, which was admittedly kind of badass. But even now, sometimes I wonder, if the lights hadn't flickered, would she have aimed somewhere worse? And then there's the oldest story of the bunch. Late 90s. Back when my parents ran the only skating rink in our tiny town. It was basically the social hub for everyone under 18. Since my parents had other jobs during the day, the rink was only open Thursday through Sunday. Which meant Monday to Wednesday, it was basically mine. I'd go after school either do my homework at one of the snack tables or throw on skates and have the whole floor to myself. One rainy February afternoon, The place decked out in tacky pink hearts for Valentine's Day, my mom and I stopped by after school. No homework that night, so I hit the floor while the BGs blared through the speakers. That's when I noticed it. A shape. A person-shaped shadow ducking behind the barricade.

Only half the overhead lights were on, so there were plenty of dark spots around the rink. I told myself it was nothing. Kept skating. A few laps later, I headed toward the side to step off the floor. Out of nowhere, an arm shot out from behind the barricade and clamped over my face, covering my eyes and mouth. Another arm hooked around my neck in a chokehold. My skates slid out from under me, and I started getting dragged sideways. I couldn't fight it, my wheels kept slipping. Then, for some reason, the guy lifted me off the ground.

Maybe to get a better grip. That was his mistake. My foot swung free, and I kicked backward as hard as I could. My skate connected with his shin. He cursed and froze. I kicked again. This time, he dropped me. By some miracle, I landed upright on my skates and shot across the floor like a bat out

of hell. I looked back just in time to see him limping out the back door. I found my mom and told her everything, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe. She locked the place down and called the cops, but they never found him. I couldn't even give a good description, it had all happened in one of the darkest spots. For months, I wouldn't skate there alone. And here's the part that really chills me now, years later, the guy had to have known I sometimes skated by myself.

Which means he'd been watching me. Maybe more than once. We eventually sold the rink and a few years later they tore it down for a subdivision. But I still think about that, how many times was I out there, alone, with someone hiding in the shadows? The end.