Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Three Chilling Encounters with Demonic Forces That Left Survivors Haunted for Life PART2 #20

Episode Date: October 10, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #demonicencounters #paranormalhorrorstories #hauntingexperiences #supernaturalterror #truehorrorstories  “Three Chilling Encounters with Demonic Forces That Left Survivors Haunted for Life PART 2” continues to explore terrifying real-life experiences with demonic or malevolent forces. These stories delve deeper into the unexplainable events, highlighting the lasting psychological and emotional effects on survivors. Each account showcases the fear, tension, and eerie presence that lingers long after the encounter ends.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, demonicencounters, paranormalhorrorstories, hauntingexperiences, supernaturalterror, truehorrorstories, chillingtales, unsettlingstories, nightmarefuel, frighteningexperiences, darkparanormal, terrifyingmoments, mysteriousencounters, hauntedlives, realfear

Horror. Number two continued. You know that feeling you get when your brain tries to tell you something's wrong, but your body is slow to catch on. That was me in that dim, musty basement. I couldn't shake the unease gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. The man in the shadows still hadn't moved much. He was leaning against the old desk, arms at his sides, posture loose but strange, like a puppet that had been left in mid-scene. I kept telling myself, this must be Jay's uncle. I remember Jay casually mentioning once that his uncle stayed with them a few months every year, and it made sense, right? Who else would be in the basement this late at night? Are you Jay's uncle? I finally asked, my voice coming out softer than I intended. Nothing. He didn't respond, didn't even blink.

The silence dragged on so long it felt like it was pushing. on my chest. I started getting genuinely freaked out. I didn't want to turn my back on him. Something deep inside screamed not to, but I also knew I needed to put the jawbone away before his mom found me snooping. Without looking away from him, I awkwardly reached behind me toward the drawer to drop the jawbone back in. That's when he spoke. It's real. His voice caught me off guard, not in the way I expected. It was slightly deep, but otherwise completely. normal, no distortion, no whispering horror movie effect, just normal. Oddly enough, that made me feel a little better. I even found myself holding up the jawbone, like a kid showing off a rock he just found.

It is, are you sure? He nodded slowly. A very devout man once turned from God and made a deal with the devil to protect the ones he loved. The words made my skin prickle. Why would someone make a deal with the devil, I asked, unable to look away from the shadowed outline of his face. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. God makes promises, but Satan provides. I swallowed hard. There was something in the way he said it, matter of fact, almost like he was reciting a lesson. How did he do it? He provided his blood, and the devil marked his soul as his own. The man straightened suddenly, and the way he moved made my stomach twist. He didn't walk toward me. He glided, his body shifting forward with no visible steps. The space between us disappeared far too quickly, and before I knew it, my back was pressed into

the filing cabinet. He reached out and plucked the jawbone from my hands with unsettling ease. He lifted it toward his mouth. Maybe it was just the flicker of light from the bare bulb above, but I swear, I swear that the canine teeth in his mouth matched the size and shape of the ones on the bone perfectly. The taste of smoke and ash hit the back of my throat without warning. My eyes watered, my stomach turned. Then he looked down at me. His eyes were pale, expressionless, empty in a way I can't fully describe. And in the dim light, I thought, just for a moment,

that I saw the faint outlines of horns curving from either side. side of his bald head. He marks the soul, the man said, his voice lower now. He pressed his thumb directly into the center of my chest. The pain was instant and overwhelming, like a red, hot nail being driven into my skin. My ears filled with a high-pitched ringing, and underneath it, I heard this thundering noise, the kind you might hear if you stood too close to train tracks as a locomota screamed past. My breath caught in my throat. I screamed, loud, panicked, raw. I remember the deafening slam of the filing cabinet tipping over behind me. And then, just as suddenly as it started, he pulled his thumb away. I bolted. I didn't think, didn't look back. I tore up the basement stairs

and straight into Jay's room. He was still snoring, completely oblivious. I dropped to the floor and rolled under his bed, curling myself into a tight ball. My chest throbbed with heat and pain. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. I stayed like that until exhaustion finally dragged me into a fitful, nightmare-ridden sleep. When I opened my eyes again, morning light was streaming into the room. Jay was standing above me, poking me with a hockey stick like I was some raccoon he'd found hiding in his garage. I felt sick, weak, my whole body ached in a way I'd never experienced. Take me home, I muttered. I didn't mention the man in the basement, I didn't say a word about the jawbone, and Jade didn't bring it up either. But when I got up, I saw it. There was still a

small cut on my thumb from when I'd pressed it into the jawbone's tooth. My palms were itching so badly I wanted to claw at them, and in the mirror, I saw it. saw it, a dark, angry burn mark in the center of my chest, right where he'd pressed his thumb. I told myself it had to be a nightmare. Maybe I'd sleepwalked, imagined it all. But the mark was real. The cut was real. Over the next few weeks, I didn't get better. My energy drained away, my skin paled, and I started feeling this deep, unsettling pressure in my stomach and chest. My mom took me to the doctor. After a battle, of tests, they told me I had something called gleaners disease, organ displacement. My internal organs

had shifted lower than they should be. The doctor was baffled. Just six months earlier, my check-up had shown nothing out of the ordinary. He shook his head and said something I'll never forget. It's almost as if something with extreme force tried to crush them from the inside. I never went back to Jay's house. Months later, he told me his mom had got to, gotten rid of the jawbone. But before he said that, he told me something else, something that still sends a chill down my spine. His uncle, Kyle, the one I thought I saw that night, he'd been working on a cruise ship for months. He wasn't even in the country. So whoever, or whatever, I saw in that basement, it wasn't him. Number 3. Summer of 2011. Small Town Bortem had reached

critical levels, and a few friends and I decided to do something stupid to pass the time. We'd all heard the local legend about the woods behind the public baseball diamond. People called them the gates of hell. Now, I'd heard plenty of ghost stories, but these woods had a darker reputation. Sure, there was the horrifying true part. Two girls had been assaulted and murdered back there in the 80s, but there were other stories too. People claimed you could hear screams in the dead of night, see strange cloven hoof prints in the dirt, even in the snow, where it would melt instantly around certain spots. Creepiest of all, on the far side of the woods, sat a cemetery. It was the perfect setup for a dumb midnight dare. Around midnight, eight or

nine of us parked our cars and crossed the open field toward the tree line. The air was humid, heavy. We walked between the two large trees at the entrance, people called them, the gates of hell, and stepped into the shadows. Most of the group stopped after about 30 feet, their voices dropping as the darkness seemed to swallow us. But my friends, Malik and Peyton, they kept walking, no hesitation, just disappeared deeper into the black. The rest of us lingered, talking too loudly, laughing too often, pretending we weren't creeped out. Then, laughter. Not ours. It was close, just a few yards away, high-pitched, like children. But know the joyful, carefree kind of laughter you hear on a playground.

No, this was the sneaky, whispered giggling of kids who were spying on you, watching. Whoa, watch out, my friend Damien suddenly shouted. He turned and bolted out of the woods. Within 30 seconds, Malik and Peyton came tearing back toward us. Their eyes were wide, faces pale. We didn't ask questions, we just ran. When we got back to the open field, Damien told us he'd seen a figure step out from behind a tree and head straight toward him.

Peyton said he and Malik had heard footsteps and then spotted two glowing red eyes staring at them through the dark. I half smirked, trying to brush it off, but deep down, something in me was rattled. I wasn't about to go back in there. But the night wasn't done with us. On the drive home, Peyton started shifting uncomfortably in his seat, saying his back was burning. We pulled over. I lifted his shirt and freaked. Scratches, deep ones, cutting across his lower back, fresh enough to draw blood.

Before we could process that, Damien, who was driving, started gagging violently. He stumbled out of the car and collapsed on the grass, choking. We all scrambled out, but the second car with the rest of our friends, going. Damian vomited a thick, grayish paste, then started screaming. His voice, it wasn't his. The words came fast, sharp, laced with so much profanity that it barely sounded human. Then he lunged at Sarah. Jake and Peyton grabbed him, struggling to hold him back. Jake landed a hard punch to Damien's stomach, and he crumpled to the ground gasping. That's when Sarah screamed cut through the night. We turned and saw it. Far down the road, under the flickering streetlights,

a figure was moving toward us, only it wasn't walking, it was gliding. Its glowing red eyes locked onto us. Panic took over. Sarah and I dove into the car. I jumped into the driver's seat, Jake and Peyton dragged Damien in, and before the doors even shut, I floored it. In the rearview mirror, I caught one last glimpse of the figure and nearly lost control when I realized it was closer than it had any right to be. We drove straight to the ER, dropped Damien off, and split up. Later that night, we got word. Malik and the others in the second car had been in a serious wreck. None of them survived. Damien recovered physically, but men...