Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - The Face in the Window and the Truck Behind Me A Life Marked by Close Calls PART2 #74

Episode Date: July 9, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #closecalls #stalkingstories #nightmares #urbanlegends #nearfatalencounters  In this second part of the story, the tension rises with new chilling encounters. The narrator reveals additional experiences where danger lurks in unexpected places—each event escalating the feeling of being hunted and the constant brush with death. It’s a haunting continuation of a life shaped by near escapes and deep fear.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, closecalls, stalkingencounters, urbanhorror, survivalstory, scaryexperiences, truehorrorstories, nightencounters, tensehorror, realterror, terrifyingmoments, mysteriouswatchers, nightmaretales, dangerclose, fearinstreets

It all started on a pretty regular day. You know, one of those were your biggest concern is what kind of coffee you're going to order. I shrugged it off at first. The truck behind me, I mean, I told myself it was nothing. Probably just some random driver going in the same direction. I even tried to laugh it off, muttering something about how I read too many creepy Reddit threads late at night. But there was something weird about the way that truck kept its distance. Not too close, not too far. Just enough to keep me guessing. I made a stop near this local bar and grill, hoping the truck would pass me by, but when I turned right back onto the road, it turned two. Still behind me. Still the same exact distance. My heart started doing this low-key drum solo in my chest, but I told myself I was being paranoid. Still, something didn't feel right. The way the truck moved,

it was deliberate. Like whoever was inside didn't want me to get a good look at them. I turned left, heading toward this small village where my teacher worked, thinking maybe a change in scenery would shake this guy off. Nope. The truck kept trailing me, never gaining, never losing. I could feel my stomach drop lower and lower with every turn. By the time I rolled into Sparta, I wasn't even trying to rationalize anymore.

I knew something was up. My gut was basically screaming at me to do something. Anything. So I made a decision. When I reached the entrance of the elementary school, I was going to turn in. If the truck followed me into the parking lot, I'd have my answer. I made the turn. And so did the truck.

That's when I knew. This wasn't just some dude on his way home. I wasn't overthinking. I wasn't being dramatic. I was being followed. And whoever was behind the wheel knew I knew. I drove through the parking lot, trying to stay calm, but my whole body felt like it was about to short circuit. I hoped maybe, just maybe, they were there to drop off a kid or something, but as I looked

past the student pickup zone, the truck didn't stop. It hovered at the intersection like it was watching me. Waiting. I made it out of the parking lot and hit the road again. I checked my mirrors every few seconds, trying to lose the panic. Turned down another road. Pulled over near some houses. Took a few shaky breaths, waited.

Nothing. No truck. Not anymore. Eventually, I headed to a nearby coffee shop, trying to pretend everything was normal. Got the drinks I'd planned to get for my teacher and me, then headed back to the school. The truck was gone. vanished like smoke. I made it into the school office, and that's when the adrenaline crash hit me like a freight train. The receptionist looked up and asked if I was okay, and I just lost it. I broke

down crying, shaking, barely able to speak. I told my teacher and the receptionist everything. My teacher pulled me into a hug like she could hold me together just by squeezing hard enough. She told me to stop trying to make sense of it, to stop playing in it. down. That truck had followed me for too long and way too deliberately. She believed they had malicious intent. I didn't want to think about what that meant. But deep down, I agreed. I think that person was trying to catch me in a quiet spot, maybe even take me. Traffic me. Whatever their plan was, it didn't feel good. And I am so, so grateful I listened to my gut that day. I sat on this story for a long time. Didn't know if I should share it, mostly because there's no neat ending.

No license plate number. No arrest. Just a whole lot of terrifying what-ifs. Now, if that was the only thing that ever happened, I'd probably just move on. But it wasn't. Not by a long shot. This next story takes place in Traverse City, Michigan. Beautiful place. You've got the glacier-carved Hills, Lake Michigan just sitting there looking all majestic. It's the kind of place you'd never expect something creepy to happen. But then again, those are always the places where it does. I live just outside the city in a small townhouse with a friend. I'd recently shipped my old bicycle up for my hometown and was excited to ride again. It was my day off, so I figured I'd save on gas and bike into town. Tires checked. Helmet strapped.

Off I went. I used to ride all the time, so it came back easy, like, well, riding a bike. What I didn't notice was the terrain, all downhill, which felt amazing on the way in. But I wasn't thinking about the ride back. I got into town, did some shopping, met up with my roommate for dinner. We laughed, caught up. Normal day. Then the sun started setting. Time to head back. The uphill climb hit me like a wall. I was exhausted. Had to get off and walk my bike the last stretch. By the time I got near home, it was pitch black outside. That's when I had to make a decision. To my left, the long way home. Well lit, safe, boring. To my right, the shortcut. I took it every day in my car. Heavily wooded. No lights.

Steep Hill. But way faster. So, of course, I chose the shortcut. At first, it was fine. I turned on my bike's headlamp and started walking through the forested road. Just me and the crickets. I was tired, pissed at myself for not planning better. Then I heard footsteps. Off to my right. I froze. The steps stopped. I stood there for a minute. thinking it was probably just some deer or raccoon. Happens all the time. I'm not new to the woods. So I started walking again. The footsteps started again. They stopped when I stopped. Started when I started. I did a test, moved a few steps, stopped suddenly. The steps kept going this time, for a few extra seconds. Like whoever, or whatever, it was, didn't catch on right away. That's when I knew. This wasn't an animal. This was someone. Following me. I ran through my options. I couldn't outrun them, too tired. Couldn't drop the bike and bolt. I wasn't in good shape for a chase. I had a small utility knife, but honestly, I'd rather fight bare-handed than start swinging a blade and escalate things. I have some martial arts experience, so I wasn't totally. defenseless. I called my roommate, gave her my location, told her what was happening. She said she'd be there in ten minutes. I hung up and started walking again. The footsteps picked up again.

This time, quicker. Like whoever it was was getting impatient. My fear flipped. It turned into rage. That's how I get when I'm scared, angry. Aggressive. So I stopped, spun toward the woods, and shouted, Come on out and face me. I'll rip your stomach open and wear your intestines as a necklace. Yup. That's what I said. Full-on psycho mode.

The forest went dead silent. Nothing moved. I stood there, fists clenched, ready to throw down with whoever had been stalking me. But they never came out. Just silence. Then I saw headlights. My roommate pulled up, and I nearly cried from relief. Tossed my bike in the car, jumped in, and we sped off.

I collapsed at home. Actually threw up from the stress. Didn't fall asleep until after 3 a.m. So what was out there? I'll never know. A person? An animal. I leaned toward person.

The way it moved, it was too calculated. Two, human. But hey, maybe I scared off some poor porcupine who'll need therapy for the rest of his life. Whatever it was, I don't want to experience anything like that again. Ever. And yeah, I really hope no one calls the cops because of that necklace comment. There's always a reason to be afraid, even if you don't know exactly what you're afraid of. But if you feel something's wrong, don't ignore it.

Your gut might just save your life. The end.