Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - The Night Evil Followed Me Home and Changed My Life Forever in a Summer Encounter PART1 #11

Episode Date: September 29, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truehorrorstories #creepyencounters #nightmarefuel #paranormalexperiences #summereveninghorror  Part 1 of The Night Evil Followed Me Home recounts a terrifying summer night when an encounter changed a life forever. From eerie presences following every step to moments of pure fear, this story immerses readers in a suspenseful and chilling true experience. It captures the shock, terror, and unsettling reality of being pursued by an unknown evil.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truehorrorstories, creepyencounters, nightmarefuel, paranormalexperiences, summereveninghorror, scaryencounters, chillingtales, unsettlingmoments, realnightmares, disturbingstories, stalkerstories, survivalstories, mysteriousoccurrences, truestoryhorror

The baby on the road and the house with too many windows. You ever hear a story that makes you double-check your car doors every single time you get out, even if it's just to grab coffee. This one's like that. A friend of mine once told me about this girl from Sweden she'd met, let's call her Jane. She was in her mid-20s, one of those quiet but kind people who look like they've seen a lot but don't really talk about it. Jane had been traveling for a while, staying with my friend for a few months, and somewhere in those late night, wine-fueled conversations, she let this one slip.

It happened back when she still lived in Sweden, driving late one evening to her mother's house. Now, Jane's mom didn't live anywhere near the city, we're talking deep forest, where the trees are tall enough to block out most of the sky and the nearest neighbor might as well live on the moon. No streetlights, no sidewalks, just long, empty stretches of asphalt slicing through pitch-black wilderness. The few houses scattered along that road were set way back in the woods, hidden by twisting driveways. Unless you knew exactly where to look, you'd never even guess they were there. Jane had driven that road plenty of times, so she wasn't nervous, at least not until she saw it. Up ahead, on the side of the road, was this, bundle. Small, roundish, wrapped in some kind of fabric.

She slowed a bit, eyes narrowing. As she passed, her stomach lurched. It looked like a baby. A baby. On the side of the road. In the middle of the night. Her foot slammed the brakes almost on instinct, the squeal of her tires cutting through the silence. She skidded to a stop about 50 meters ahead, heart hammering.

Without thinking, she threw the car into reverse, engine growling as she backed toward the strange bundle. She jumped out before the car had even full. She slowly stopped, cold night air smacking her in the face. Her brain was in full on someone left a baby to die mode. She rushed over, already bracing herself for the worst, maybe it was injured, maybe it was barely breathing. And then. Relief. A wave of it so strong she almost laughed.

It wasn't a real baby at all. Just a doll, swaddled up in a blanket. She let out a shaky exhale, crouching down to pick it up, and that's a little. when headlights cut through the darkness ahead. Her gut tightened. She suddenly remembered where she was, alone, on a dark road, with no houses nearby, and a strange car rolling toward her. She dropped the toy like it was burning her and bolted back to her own car. She slammed the door, fired up the engine, and took off. But the car behind her—it sped up too. Within seconds, its headlights were so close they flooded her rearview mirror, horn blaring in long, angry bursts.

Her panic shot through the roof. She pressed harder on the gas, weaving slightly as she tried to keep control. She couldn't see who was in that car, but she didn't need to, everything in her screamed danger. Her mother's driveway was still two miles away. And driveway, is being generous, It was basically a narrow dirt road winding deep into the forest. If that car followed her down there, she'd have no escape. She made a quick plan. If they followed her onto the property, she'd call her mom and have her ring the police. Sure enough, when she turned sharply onto the long driveway, the car followed.

Her hands shook as she grabbed her phone. Mom, she gasped, someone's following me, call the police now. her mother's voice went tight. Get here fast. I'll be outside. They were flying down that dirt road at reckless speeds now, both cars bouncing on the uneven ground, headlight slicing the darkness.

Jane's ears rang from the constant blare of the horn behind her. Finally, her mother's house came into view, a warm glow spilling from the windows, the only sign of safety for miles. Jane screeched to a stop in the driveway. Her mom was already outside, barefoot on the porch, a kitchen knife clenched in her fist. The car behind Jane stopped two. Doors flew open and outstepped, an elderly couple.

They were waving their arms, yelling at her. Someone's in your car. Someone's in your car. Her blood turned to ice. She whipped around just in time to see a dark figure bolt from her back seat and disappear into the forest. The old man pointed toward the trees, breathless. We saw him jump in when you stopped for the baby thing. We've been trying to warn you, Jane's mind spun.

That doll, it wasn't random. Someone had put it there, counting on a good Samaritan to pull over. Then, while she was distracted, they slipped into her car. Her skin crawled as she imagined what might have happened if the couple hadn't been there, or if she'd driven all the way home without knowing. After that night, Jane swore she'd never, ever get out of her car for something like that again. And she triple-checked her locks every time she stopped anywhere. I thought that was the end of the creepy stories for the night when my friend told it to me.

But then she smirked and went, want to hear the one about my sister. This next one happened about 15 years ago, when her sister was still in high school and she was in middle school. Their mom worked as a house cleaner, and she had this habit of becoming friends with the people whose home she cleaned. One couple, in particular, were like family, older, childless, but with a sprawling house and an outdoor pool that looked like it belonged in a luxury magazine. The husband was some big-shot CEO of an airline, so yeah, they were loaded. The property was gorgeous but also, isolated. Their backyard was surrounded by dense forest. You could be in the middle of a pool party and still feel like the last person on earth. The house itself was modern and angular,

built from stone with multiple levels and giant floor-to-ceiling windows. In the daytime, those windows framed stunning views of the woods. At night? Different story. With the lights on inside, the glass turned into a black mirror. You couldn't see out, but if anyone was standing outside, they could definitely see in. The couple had decorated the place with native, American masks and art, which as a kid, my friend found a little unsettling. They also had two dogs, Samson, a massive old golden retriever with a heart of gold, and Sadie, a rescued Husky mix with, let's call it, a lot of personality. Sadie had severe separation anxiety and a gift for destruction. Leave her inside alone. She'd shred the furniture. Leave her outside. She'd leap the fence.

Take her in the car. She'd ripped the seats apart and howl like a banshee. Because of this, the couple often hired my friend or her sister to dog sit when they went out. They paid $20 an hour, so of course, the girls were always happy to hang out in a giant house with a pool and cable TV. Most nights were uneventful, the dogs would lounge around, maybe Sadie would get a little weird, but nothing too crazy. until Easter weekend. That year, the couple went out of town for two days and paid her sister to stay overnight with the dogs. My friend stayed with her the first night because, let's be real, giant glass windows plus

forest equals serial killer vibes. They spent the night eating junk food and watching movies, then swam in the pool the next day. But that second night, my friend went home. And thank God she did, because what happened. scarred her sister for life. It started with her sister deciding to use the treadmill in the basement workout room. The room had a huge sliding glass door that led directly to the pool and patio. She was mid-run, TV blaring, when she thought she heard the beep of the house alarm, the sound it made when a door opened. She slowed to a stop, frowning. The sliding door was

open. Now, this thing was massive, not the kind of door that just slides itself open. Someone had to have moved it. She froze. And that's where, well, I'll keep going if you want, because this story takes a turn that'll make you never want to be alone in a glass house again. Her sister stood frozen, staring at the sliding glass door. The cool night air was drifting inside, carrying with it that damp, earthy smell of the forest. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.

She told me later that at first, her brain tried to play it off. maybe the wind caught it. Maybe she hadn't closed it all the way. But then she remembered the click she'd heard when she locked it earlier. No way it just opened. She walked slowly toward the door, every step making the Hardwood Creek. Samson, the Golden Retriever, was lying nearby. His head popped up, and he let out a low, uncertain, woof. His eyes weren't on her, they were fixed on the dark patio outside. Sadie, on the other hand, had lost her mind. She was pacing, whining, hackles up. If you know dogs, you know the difference between, I heard a squirrel, and, there's something seriously wrong. This was the latter. Her sister's pulse was pounding in her ears.

She reached the doorway and peered outside. The patio was bathed in weak moonlight. The pool glimmered faintly, still and untouched. Beyond it, the forest loomed like a wall. Nothing moved. She slid the door shut again, click, and stepped back. That's when she realized something that made her blood run cold. From where she was standing, she could see her own reflection in the glass. Clear as day. If anyone had been standing outside just now, they could have been watching her, and she never would have known. She told herself to shake it off and went back to the treadmill. Maybe she was being paranoid. But the unease clung to her like a damp shirt. About 10 minutes later, she heard it again. The beep. She whipped around. The sliding door was open. She swears to this day

she never heard it move, one moment it was shut, the next it was gaping open like an invitation. Samson was on his feet now, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. Sadie was at the threshold, barking furiously into the darkness. Her sister's hand shook as she grabbed her phone. She dialed 911, barely able to get the words out, someone's opening the door, I think someone's outside. The dispatcher told her to stay on the line, lock herself in a room, and wait for officers. But here's the thing, the fastest way to get to a lockable room,

walking past that giant glass door. She inched toward it anyway, her whole body tense. Samson stayed right at her side. Sadie lunged at the open gap, teeth bared, but didn't cross it. Her sister leaned just enough to push the door shut with her fingertips, didn't even want to put her whole arm out there. She locked it again, heart-hammering so hard she thought it might burst. She bolted upstairs, into the master bedroom, and locked that door too.

The dogs followed, Sadie still whining like she wanted to tear something apart. For a few minutes, the only sound was her breathing. Then came the tap. Very soft. Very slow. Against the bedroom's sliding glass balcony door. She froze. Another tap.

And another. It wasn't the kind of knock you do when you want someone to open the door. It was almost, playful. She crept closer, phone still pressed to her ear, whispering to the dispatcher, there on the balcony. The police were apparently minutes away, but those minutes felt like hours. She was about to peek through the curtains when Sadie went absolutely feral, launching herself at the glass, snarling and clawing. There was a sudden shuffle outside, and then, nothing.

By the time the cops arrived, the tapping had stopped. They searched the property but found no one. No footprints, no broken locks, nothing. The officer suggested it could have been an animal, but her sister knew better. That, beep from the alarm. That wasn't a raccoon. And a raccoon doesn't quietly slide a heavy glass door open without making a sound. She stayed at the house until the couple came back, but never agreed to dog sit again.

Years later, my friend told me she started noticing how both her sister's story and Jane Sweet. incident had one thing in common, the creep wasn't trying to get in by breaking anything. They were already finding ways to slip in quietly, like they were testing boundaries, waiting for the right moment. And here's the part that still bothers me. Jane never saw the man who got into her car again. The police searched, but he vanished into the forest that night like smoke. Her sister never found out who, or what, was outside the glass doors.

But she swears if she had looked too long into that dark forest, she would have seen someone standing there. Now, before you start thinking these are just two unrelated freak incidents, there's something else. Something that, at the time, seemed like nothing, but now feels like a thread tying them together. About six months after Jane's baby on the road encounter, she was visiting a different part of Sweden and saw a missing person flyer in a small-town cafe. It was for a young woman who'd vanished from a forest road at night.

The last thing anyone saw, according to the flyer, was her car parked with the hazard lights on. Jane couldn't shake the feeling. She asked around but got nowhere. Eventually, she let it go, or tried to. And my friend's sister. She found out from the couple she dog sat for that a woman had been attacked less than a mile from their property the year before. The attacker was never caught.

I know how these stories sound. Like urban legends. The kind you tell to scare people into locking their doors. But I've seen the way Jane's voice drops when she talks about that night, and I've watched my friend's sister physically tense up if you even mention sliding glass doors. If you take anything from this, take this. If something on the side of the road looks like it needs help, think twice before you get out. and if you live in a house with giant windows looking out into the dark

close your curtains because sometimes you're not looking out you're being looked in to be continued