Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Three Terrifying Encounters with Predators That Turned Ordinary Nights into Horror PART1 #75

Episode Date: October 27, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #predatorencounters #truehorror #nightterrors #survivalstories #dangerousencounters  Part 1 recounts three real-life terrifying encounters with predators that transformed ordinary nights into moments of sheer horror. Each story highlights the fear, quick thinking, and survival instincts required to escape dangerous situations. These accounts explore the chilling unpredictability of human threats and the lingering trauma they leave behind.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, predatorencounters, nightterror, dangeroussituations, survivalhorrorstories, realhorrorstories, chillingencounters, escapefromdanger, fearinthedark, truecrimehorror, scaryencounters, nearfatalencounters, horrifyingtrueevents, survivorstories, suspenseandterror

Number three, a long, strange night. So here's the deal, I'm in my mid-20s, still figuring life out, and I've always been kind of a small person, short, petite, not exactly built for intimidation. I don't hit the gym religiously, I've never taken a single self-defense class in my life, and honestly, if anyone ever came at me physically, I'd probably be in way over my head. I wish I could tell you I'm the type who would karate kick an attacker and runoff for victorious, but nope. I'm the one who would panic and freeze. At the time this whole story happened, I was living just outside of Boston, in a small suburb that wasn't exactly known for

its charm. The place had its nice corners, sure, but the neighborhood I was in. People around here called it the sketchy part of town. High crime, shady people, a lot of stuff you'd rather not think about when you're walking alone at night. Still, I lived there because it was what I could afford, and I shared the condo with two other women my age. Rent was cheaper when split three ways, and besides, we had each other for company, or so I thought. Our condo complex had about 200 units, a little maze of townhomes and apartments. Ours sat at the very back, tucked into the farthest corner. It was the last unit in a line of ten, and behind us were nothing but trees. Thick woods wrapped around the left and back side of our place,

which sounds nice and peaceful when you think about nature and birds chirping, but in reality, it gave off creepy vibes, especially at night. No streetlights, no noise except crickets, and the occasional rustling that made you wonder if it was just a raccoon, or something else. I had lived there long enough that I wasn't actively afraid. The whole high-crime thing was always more of a background concern, like one of those things you hear about but assume won't happen to you. And for the most part, it never did. I'd lock the doors, pull the blinds shut, cuddle with my cat, and sleep just fine. That is, until one October night in 2015, when everything changed. The night it all started. I had just gotten back from a work trip

in Tampa, Florida. Business trips weren't unusual for me, but they always left me exhausted. That night my flight landed at Logan Airport around 10.30 p.m. By the time I got my bag, found my car, and drove the 30 or so minutes back to the condo, it was right around midnight. The condo was dark and quiet when I got there. My two roommates were out, nothing new. One of them was probably at her boyfriends, and the other often worked late shifts. I wasn't bothered. I'd stayed alone plenty of times before, and besides, I had my cat waiting for me. So I dragged my suitcase inside, locked the screen door and then the heavy wooden one behind me, and called it a night. At least, that was the plan.

It was warmer than usual for October, kind of muggy, the kind of weather where you don't really want to. to trapped heat inside. So, after saying hi to my cat, I went straight to my bedroom, cracked open all the windows, and got comfortable. My bed felt like heaven after a day of airports, delays, and recycled airplane air. I remember thinking, finally, I can just crash. But sleep didn't last long. The sound outside my window. Around 3.30 in the morning, I woke up. to this sound. At first it was faint, just some rustling and footsteps outside. My initial thought was, oh, it's probably just one of the neighbors. People were always coming back from bars at odd hours, or maybe someone was grabbing something from their car. I figured it was nothing.

But the noise didn't stop. For four, maybe five minutes, there was this constant shuffling, like someone moving around and not exactly trying to be quiet. Eventually curiosity, and a little paranoia, got the better of me, and I decided to peek out the window. What I saw made my stomach drop. There was a man, no, not just a man, but a huge guy, dressed in all black. Hoodie, gloves, mask, the whole thing. And he wasn't just standing there, he was inside the passenger side of my car, rifling through the glove box like he owned the place. I froze. My brain couldn't even process it at first. I literally thought, wait, am I dreaming? Did someone seriously just break into my car? But no, it was real. Someone was out there going through

my stuff, and worse, I suddenly remembered, I kept a spare apartment key in the glove box. If he found that key, all he had to do was take a few steps and he'd be right at my door. Panic mode. Now, let me just remind you, my condo door was maybe 15 feet away from where this guy was standing. Running outside and trying to leave wasn't an option. If I had opened the door, I'd have walked straight into him. And staying put didn't feel much better, because what if he decided to use the key and let himself in? My mind was racing.

My chest was pounding so hard I thought he might hear it through the walls. I couldn't think straight, but I knew one thing, I had to do something, anything. So in a moment of pure, stupid instinct, I grabbed my car keys from my nightstand and hit the lock button. The car hummed loudly, echoing through the quiet complex. The man jumped back like he'd been shocked, stumbling onto the curb. For a split second I thought, yes. He's going to run.

But instead of fleeing immediately, he stopped. Slowly, he lifted his head, looked up, and our eyes met. That image is burned into my memory, his dark figure staring straight up at me through the window, expressionless behind the mask. And he didn't flinch. Not one bit. Hiding in the closet.

I panicked all over again. I backed away from the window so fast I almost tripped, then bolted into my roommate's closet, clutching my phone like a lifeline. I called 911, whispering frantically into the receiver, telling the dispatcher what was happening. Every second felt like an hour. I was fully expecting to hear the front door creak open, footsteps inside, someone coming down the hall. The broken screen latch would have been easy to push through. The only thing standing between me and him was a thin wooden door and some drywall.

The dispatcher kept me calm, or at least as calm as I could be in that situation, and she assured me officers were on the way. But it took them twelve whole minutes to arrive, and those twelve minutes felt endless. By the time the police pulled up, the man was gone. Just vanished into the night. My car door was wide open, the glove box ransacked, but nothing was missing. Not a single thing. The only real evidence left behind was the latch on our screen door. It had been broken clean off.

I hadn't heard him trying to get in, probably because I was whispering on the phone and hiding in the closet, but the thought that he'd been that close made my skin crawl. Aftermath To this day, I don't know how he got in. into my car. I was positive I'd locked it when I came home from the airport. Maybe I was careless, maybe he had some tool to pop the lock, who knows? All I know is that I got insanely lucky. If I hadn't opened my windows that night, I might never have heard him. He could have found the spare key, walked right in, and things could have ended very differently.

That thought still keeps me up sometimes. To be continued.