Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - The Legend of the Headless Woman Who Haunts the Park Demanding Money from Hikers PART2 #2

Episode Date: October 28, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #headlesswoman #hauntedpark #ghosthorror #creepystories #paranormalencounters  Part 2 continues the chilling tale of the headless woman haunting the park. Hikers share terrifying encounters, from eerie apparitions to unexplained phenomena, reinforcing the legend’s terrifying reputation. This part delves deeper into the supernatural elements and suspense, illustrating how fear grips those who venture into her domain.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, headlesswoman, hauntedpark, ghostencounters, urbanlegend, supernaturalhorror, chillinglegend, creepyhiking, fearinthepark, mysteriousapparitions, hauntedplaces, unexplainedphenomena, eerieencounters, scaryfolklore, paranormalactivity

The Woman in the Woods, My Encounter. The sound came again. At first, my brain tried to tell me it was just a woodpecker. You know, that familiar, almost cartoonish, knock, knock, knock sound they make when they're drilling into bark. For half a second, I even felt relieved. Like, oh, thank God, it's just nature being nature. A reminder that I wasn't completely alone, that the forest still had life buzzing through it. that I hadn't slipped into some dreamlike void where nothing made sense.

But then I realized something. It wasn't a woodpecker. The noise was coming from her. Her jaw, God, I'll never forget it, her lower jaw was trembling up and down like a motorized puppet. Her teeth clattered together in a hideous rhythm, producing that same hollow knocking sound I'd mistaken for a bird. It was mechanical, unnatural, almost insect-like.

My stomach flipped. Every ounce of that fragile relief I'd clung to vanished instantly. I opened my mouth to speak, to say something, anything. But my throat had closed up. My tongue felt like dry leather, heavy and useless. No words came out. She started moving toward me. It wasn't a word.

normal walk. Her movements were stiff, jerky, like each limb was being tugged by invisible strings. Her dead, glassy eyes locked onto mine, unblinking. She repeated the words, but this time with a sharper edge. Do you have any money? It wasn't just a question anymore, it was a demand. One of her arms shot upward, her fingers curling like claws, her hand poised to grab me. Instinct took over. Before I could even think, the words spilled out of me. No. I don't have any money.

But, but I know where some is buried. That stopped her. For the first time, her body paused. The jaw clattering slowed but didn't stop. She stood there, silent, waiting for me to elaborate. My brain scrambled like a rat trapped in a box. Where the hell could I say? What direction?

What lie could I spin fast enough to get out of this? My eyes darted left, where the trail forked and wound upward toward the highest point in the park. That was it. There, I stammered, pointing shakily. Up that way. There's, there's money buried by the big tree. She didn't say anything. Just turned, stiff as ever, and began walking off the path,

crunching through underbrush with that horrid jaw still knocking, still muttering under her breath. The second her back was to me, I didn't wait. I ran. I didn't jog, I didn't sneak, I booked it. My legs flew like they'd never belonged to me before. Adrenaline pumped through me so hard it felt like my blood was on fire. I had no idea how long I had before she realized I'd lied, no clue whether she'd turn back instantly or hunt me down. All I knew was that I needed to move.

The forest floor was slick from the rain. My shoes slid on wet leaves, mud splashing up my legs. I tripped more than once, arms flailing, nearly crashing face-first into the ground. Somehow, some miracle, I managed to stay upright, pumping my legs fast. faster and faster. Finally, after what felt like forever, I burst out of the tree line and found myself standing on top of a grassy hill. My chest heaved, lungs burning. The hill sloped downward, leveling out into an open hayfield. At the far edge, a trail hugged the stream, leading up another hill toward the parking lot. I was almost free. I didn't waste a second. I launched my

downhill, legs pounding so hard I nearly lost control. I could feel gravity pulling me forward, threatening to topple me into a faceplant, but I forced myself to keep upright. My shoes slapped against the wet grass as I tore down the slope. That's when I heard it. The sound. Teeth. Knocking. It was coming from behind me, from the edge of the woods. I didn't want to look. Every nerve in my body screamed not to. But I did. At first, there was nothing.

Just the tree lean, dark and dense, dripping with rainwater. Then I saw it. Something small and black tumbled out of the woods. It looked like a dog at first, a little thing, maybe a Pomeranian or a terrier. It rolled a few feet down the hill. Then my brain caught up. It wasn't a dog. It was her head.

Her decapitated head, long black hair tangling in the mud as it rolled, face twisted, jaw still rattling with that awful, hollow sound. The head rolled and bounced, making its way down the slope toward me. I have never in my life run faster. I don't think I ever will again. I flew down the hill, across the bottom, over the short wooden bridge that spanned the stream. My legs were pumping so hard I barely registered the splash of water beneath me. I clawed my way up the gravel slope on the other side, hands digging into the dirt when my shoes slipped, scraping my palms raw and bloody.

My ankles twisted, my knees buckled, but I didn't stop. Anything, anything, to make it to my car. When I finally reached the parking lot, I was shaking so violently I could barely get my keys into the ignition. Twice, I dropped them onto the floor mat, fumbling with trembling fingers. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought it would crack them open. At last, the engine roared to life. I slammed the car into reverse, tires screeching as I tore out of the lot. Gravel flew behind me as I peeled out onto the lot.

road. I didn't care if I hit a deer, a sign, another car, I just needed distance. Distance from her. Distance from those woods. Distance from the nightmare I'd stumbled into. The whole drive home, my eyes flicked compulsively to the rearview mirror, half expecting to see it. That rolling, mud-caped head with its hair trailing behind, chasing after me down the road. But there was nothing. When I finally got home, I locked every door, every window. I dragged chains across the front door, shoved furniture against the back one. Then I went from room to room, checking again, and again, and again.

For nights afterward, I barely slept. Every creek of the house made me jump. Every rattle of branches against the windows sent my heart racing. I lay awake, ears straining for the faintest sound of teeth knocking together. But nothing came. And that's the part that eats at me. Why nothing? Why did she let me go?

Was she trapped in the park somehow, bound to the place where she died? Did she toy with me and decide I wasn't worth it? Or, God forbid, was she still out there, waiting for the right moment? I'll never know. All I know is this, I haven't set foot in that park since. Hell, I don't even drive near it anymore. I'll go out of my way, take the long route, burn an extra half hour of gas just to avoid getting within a mile of that place. And one more thing, I never leave my house without money now.

ever. Doesn't matter if I'm just walking the dog or going to the store. There's always cash in my pocket. Just in case. But here's the thing. This whole experience didn't happen in a vacuum. It didn't just come out of nowhere. Looking back, I realize I'd been primed for it my whole life. See, I've had problems with sleep for as long as I can remember. Insomnia was my constant companion through adolescence. Maybe it came from the depression I carried around after years of being bullied at school. Maybe it was from the endless video game binges I used to lose myself in. Night spent staring at glowing screens until my eyes burned, my cornea shriveled up like dried paper. Hours at a time spent running from reality inside a digital world where I actually mattered.

When I turned the console off, the escape vanished. What I saw staring back at me in the mirror was red-rimmed, exhausted eyes. A hollow shell of a kid trudging back upstairs in the dark, tiptoeing so my parents wouldn't know I'd been awake until dawn. My basement back then, it was half underground, half above. That TV room, dim and cool, was my safe haven. Down there, it felt like I had freedom. as much freedom as a pre-teen could have anyway. There were sleepovers, all-night gaming marathons, whispered plans with friends about the adult

things we'd someday sneak off to do. That basement had an attached garage and a side door. I used to tell myself that one day I'd slip out through it, step into the night, and finally feel what being truly alive felt like. But of course, I didn't. I just played games and stayed up too late and waited for something, anything, to change. Little did I know, years later, it wouldn't be me sneaking out the side door into the night.

It would be something else, sneaking in. To be continued.