Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - The Room That Waited in Silence #39

Episode Date: July 14, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #silentroom #creepyspace #hauntedroom #unseenpresence #darkwaiting  This eerie story revolves around a room that holds its secrets in silence, quietly waiting for something unknown. A chilling exploration of unseen presences and the unsettling feeling of being watched, "The Room That Waited in Silence" captures the dread of the unknown and the haunting power of quiet fear.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, hauntedroom, silence, eeriepresence, unsettlingfear, ghoststories, paranormalencounter, darksecrets, chillingatmosphere, unseenentity, shadowfear, creepyspace, mysteriousroom, unexplainedphenomena, quietterror

The room looked like something out of a teenage girl's Pinterest board. Lavender walls, white trim, and those built-in drawers that never quite opened all the way unless you yanked them just right. The full-sized bed sat awkwardly high, like it had something to prove. It was shoved dead center, with barely enough room to shuffle around to the closet that was always jammed full of clothes I didn't wear in a window that framed the narrow, sleepy road out front. Just beyond the backyard, maybe 50 feet past the closet that was always jammed full of clothes I didn't wear in a window that frame the window that framed the, patchy grass and that weird slope no one ever mowed, there was a wall of trees. Not the kind you stroll through for fun either, the dense, shadowy kind that swallow sound and sunlight. That room, as tiny and forgettable as it was, became my hideout. I was your standard-issue

teenager, uncty, overly emotional, dramatic for no reason, and allergic to family dinners. When things got tense at home, which was often, I'd lock myself in there, kill the light, and disappear into my laptop. The laptop wasn't anything special, just some cheap thing we got during a back-to-school sale. But it became my portal. I got hooked on movies thanks to this random film class I barely passed, and suddenly I was obsessed. Old movies, new ones, foreign stuff, black and white classics, I devoured them all from the safety of my high-up bed. In the dark, with only the glow of the screen lighting my face, the rest of the world faded. The yelling, the tears, the awkward silences outside my door, gone.

Eventually, I had a whole ritual. Popcorn, Fuzzy Blanket, The Cat, Emmy, who acted like she paid rent, and a movie lineup. I'd sometimes pause midway to grab snacks or hit the bathroom, and more often than not, I'd come back to find Emmy curled in the corner of the bed like she'd always been there. She was pure black and hard to see in the dark, but I could always feel that little dip in the bed when she jumped on. One night stands out like a scar. I turned in early, feeling unusually drained. I was maybe 20 minutes into the second film when I felt it, the gentle thump and shift of Emmy landing on the bed.

Without looking, I scoot it over a bit and whispered, hey, M, while keeping my eyes on the screen. Then the door slammed open. Like, not just creaked or swum lightly, it burst open. My mom stood there, eyes wide and brows scrunched like she just walked in on something disturbing. Did you just come in here? she asked. What? No, I've been here for hours, I said, pulling my earbuds out. She walked in slowly, checking around the room like she expected to find someone.

You sure you're alone? No friends over or something. It's just me and Emmy. What's up? She reached for the light switch and flipped it on. I blinked against the sudden brightness, then looked at the bed where Emmy should have been. There was a clear dip where someone had been sitting just seconds ago. But she wasn't there.

Nowhere in the room. My mom paled. I swear. I saw a girl walk into your room. She walked right past me in the hallway. I thought it was you. But you're already in here. The air in the room thickened.

I'm sure, I said, voice tight. I tried to act cool, like I wasn't suddenly fighting off a full-body shiver. She gave me a long look, then just said, Okay, never mind, and shut the door again. Fast. I sat frozen in the dark, laptop screen still glowing like a spotlight in an empty theater. The vibe had changed. It wasn't cozy anymore.

The walls seemed to close in a little, and the shadows stretched longer. My heart thumped as I tried to reason it away. Maybe Mom was tired. Maybe she saw a shadow. Maybe Emmy was just hiding. I hit play again, desperate for distraction. A good chase scene, an explosion, a dramatic monologue, anything to reset the mood. Then minutes later, there it was again.

The weight. The dip in the mattress. I smiled instinctively. There you are, I whispered, reaching blindly toward the familiar lump of fur. But, nothing. My hand slid across cold, empty sheets. Frowning, I sat up and felt around. Still nothing.

Emmy had vanished. Again. I glanced at the door. closed. Locked. No way she got in. My throat tightened. The air felt electric, like a storm was about to blow through. I jumped out of bed and flipped the light back on. The indent in the mattress was still there, slowly rising like whatever had been sitting there just got up. No Emmy. No sound. Just me and the pounding in my chest. Every nerve screamed run, but I shut the light off instead, climbed back into bed like a coward, and yanked the covers over my head like they were

armor. That's when the bed creaked. The unmistakable sound of someone shifting their weight on the edge. My entire body tensed. I turned my back to it, curled up as tight as I could, and prayed I was imagining things. Then I felt it. A hand. On my shoulder. Not warm or comforting, cold, stiff, insistent. Like it was trying to turn me over, make me look. I squeezed my eyes shut harder, whispering, go away, you don't belong here, you're not welcome. Over and over. Four minutes. Hours. Time stopped mattering. I just kept whispering until the grip faded and the weight lifted. I never saw what it was. And I didn't want to. Eventually, exhaustion beat fear, and I fell asleep or passed out. I'm still not sure. But that was the last time I slept in that

room. Ever. My parents thought I was being dramatic, but I moved all my stuff into the guest room the next day and never looked back. Emmy, for what it's worth, refused to go back in there too. She hissed at the doorway for weeks. I tried to forget it. Told myself it was a dream, a hallucination brought on by too many late-night horror movies. But even now, years later, I can still feel that hand on my shoulder if I think about it too long. Sometimes, I drive past the old house, and the window to that room is always shut tight. No curtains, no sign of life. Just an empty pane of glass staring out at the road like it remembers me.

Maybe it does. Maybe whatever was in that room is still waiting. But it's not my problem anymore. I survived it. I never got an explanation. Never caught another glimpse of the girl my mom swore she saw. Never figured out where Emmy vanished to those nights. But one thing's for sure, that small purple room wasn't just a room.

Something else lived in there, something that noticed me before I ever noticed it. And once it did, it didn't want to let go. The end.