Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Three Terrifying Encounters with Predators That Turned Ordinary Nights into Horror PART2 #76

Episode Date: October 27, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #predatorhorror #truehorrorstories #nightterror #dangerousencounters #realhorrorstories  Part 2 continues the horrifying true stories of encounters with predators. Ordinary nights quickly turn into life-threatening situations as victims face relentless danger. The stories emphasize suspense, fear, and survival, showing the terrifying unpredictability of human threats and the courage it takes to escape them.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, predatorencounters, nightterror, dangeroussituations, survivalhorrorstories, chillingencounters, nearfatalencounters, realhorrorstories, suspenseandterror, fearinthedark, survivalagainstodds, horrifyingtrueevents, scaryencounters, lifeordeathmoments, predatorhorror

Number two, the night train. This story happened to me a while back, about six or seven years ago, to be exact. At the time I was 17, still very much a kid in a lot of ways, though of course at 17 you think you're basically an adult already. I was young, a little naive, and I thought I had life more figured out than I really did. It was the beginning of summer, and like I had done every summer for as long as I could remember, I was heading to my family's summer home. Where I live, that's a pretty normal thing. A lot of families here in southeastern Europe keep a little place by the coast or up in the mountains,

somewhere to escape when the weather turns warm. For me, the summer house was sort of like a second life. School stress, small-town drama, boring routines, they all stayed behind in the city. The summer home meant freedom, sun, long nights outside with cousins and neighbors, and hours of reading on the porch. I looked forward to it every single year. The trip to get there, though, was long. My usual way of traveling was by train. Not a sleek, modern train that whizzes across the country in three hours, but the old-fashioned kind, slow, clunky, noisy, with a timetable that made sense to no one. The journey took about eight hours, even though the distance wasn't huge. It was just the nature of our rail system, slow tracks, endless stops, delays.

But the good part was that if I took the overnight train, I could sleep most of the way and wake up basically at my destination. Convenient, right? I'd already done the trip alone a couple of times before, and nothing bad had ever happened. My parents weren't worried, and honestly, neither was I. My country, compared to a lot of places, is pretty safe. Sure, weird things happen sometimes, but for the most part, a teenage girl traveling alone at night wasn't seen as reckless. So that June, just like always, I packed my bag, kissed my mom goodbye, and headed off to the station for the 11 p.m. train. Settling in. That night, the station was unusually quiet. Maybe because it was midweek, maybe because the tourist

rush hadn't started yet. Either way, the platform wasn't crowded when I climbed aboard and found my compartment. I remember the compartment vividly, six seats total, three on each side, facing each other. The cushions were old and a little scratchy, and the overhead lights buzzed faintly. But I didn't care. I spread my things out across the seats, claimed a little space for myself, and got comfortable. For a few minutes, I thought I'd have the whole compartment to myself. That would have been amazing, six seats just for me, a little kingdom where I could stretch out and sleep like a queen. But just as I was starting to relax, the door slid open and a girl about my age peaked in. She was small, with long dark hair and big tired eyes.

She asked if she could sit with me. I didn't mind at all, in fact, I welcomed the company. I smiled, nodded, and scooted my bag out of the way so she could take the seat across from me. We introduced ourselves and started chatting, the way strangers do when they're stuck together for hours. Where are you from? How old are you? What do you do? That kind of thing. It turned out she was 16, a year younger than me. She seemed a little shy at first, but she warmed up quickly, and before I knew it we were laughing quietly and swapping little bits of our lives. Even though I'd traveled alone before and was perfectly comfortable doing so, I won't lie,

I was relieved she was there. Having another girl in the compartment, someone my age, felt like a safety net. I was taller and stronger than her, technically, but I think she made me braver just by being there. There's something about not being alone that calms your nerves. We talked until around midnight, and then, both yawning, we decided to try to sleep. The train was almost empty, so no one bothered us, and since we had the whole compartment to ourselves, we could each lie across three seats. She stretched out on one side, I stretched out on the other, and soon the rhythm of the train, the clacking wheels, the soft swaying, started to lull me into that drowsy half-sleep.

The first visit I was just on the edge of drifting off when the compartment door slid open. At first I thought maybe it was a conductor coming to check tickets, or maybe someone else looking for a place to sit. But when I looked up, there was a man standing in the doorway. He didn't say hello, didn't ask if the seats were taken, just stood there staring at us. Then, after a pause, he said, Do you have any room for me? That one simple question sent alarm bells through my brain.

The train was nearly empty. I had noticed it when we boarded, there were plenty of other compartments, most of them completely unoccupied. Why would he pick hours? Why would he want to squeeze into a space already filled with two sleeping girls, when there were entire empty sections he could have to himself? And it wasn't just the fact that. that he asked, it was how he asked. The phrasing felt wrong, like he wasn't really asking about

a seat. The way his eyes flicked around, the strange tone of his voice, it made my stomach twist uncomfortably. I squirmed, opened my mouth to respond, and before I could get a word out, he turned and left. Just like that. He slid the door shut and walked away. For a second I thought maybe I was overreacting. Maybe he was just confused, or lost, or looking for someone. I exchanged a quick, what the hell was that, glance with the girl across from me. She shrugged, we both half-smiled nervously, and I tried to put it out of my mind. My sleepy brain didn't want to think too hard about it. The second visit

But not even five minutes later, the door opened again. It was him. Same man, same empty expression on his face. He leaned into the compartment and asked the exact same thing. Do you have any room for me? This time I froze. I didn't answer, didn't even pretend to be polite. I just shut my eyes and lay as still as possible, like maybe if I ignored him, he'd go away.

Childish, I know, but I would. was 17, scared, and completely out of my depth. Luckily, the girl wasn't as passive as me. She sat up a little, squared her shoulders, and snapped at him. No. You can see there's no room. We're trying to sleep. Her voice was louder and stronger than I expected.

It had this sharp edge to it, like she was daring him to argue. The man didn't mean. move right away. He just stood there, staring at us. His eyes looked, off. I don't know how else to describe it. Vacant but also calculating, empty but somehow sinister, like there was something brewing in his head that we weren't supposed to understand. Finally, he slid the door shut and disappeared again. The rest of the night. I laughed nervously, more out of relief than anything, and she gave me a little smile. Neither of us said much after that. We didn't want to talk about what just happened, but we both knew it was weird. Too weird. I tried to go back to

sleep, and I did manage to drift off here and there, but it was a restless night. I kept waking up at every little sound, every creak of the train. I don't think I ever slept more than 20 minutes at a stretch. Part of me was convinced that if I shut my eyes for too long, I'd wake up to find him standing over me. Morning eventually came, and with it, sunlight streaming through the scratched-up windows. When the train pulled into the station where I had to change lines, the girl and I said goodbye. She was headed further down the line, so we didn't leave together. I wish I could tell you I stayed in touch with her, but I didn't. I didn't. I didn't. I didn't didn't even have Facebook back then, and truthfully, I've forgotten her name over the years.

For some reason, writing this now, I want to say it was Ivana. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. What I do know is that she left an impression on me. What she taught me. Looking back, I'm endlessly grateful she was there that night. If I had been alone, I honestly don't know how I would have handled it. I'd like to believe I would have stood up for myself, told him off the way she did. But if I'm being honest, I probably would have stayed frozen and silent, hoping he'd leave

me alone. Her voice, her willingness to speak up, it might have been the thing that kept him from pushing further. Maybe he would have tried to force his way in if he thought we were easy targets. Maybe he was testing us, seeing how much resistance he'd get. And maybe her quick, firm, no, was enough to make him think twice. We never got a good look at him, it was dark, and the train's lighting was terrible. But from what little I saw, I'd guess he was somewhere between 30 and 40.

Definitely older than us. Definitely out of place. He had no business trying to hang out with two teenage girls on an almost empty train. If all he wanted was sleep, he had a hundred other option. That's why, to this day, I believe he had something else in mind. The lesson That night stayed with me, not because something actually happened, but because something could have. The possibility of danger hovered so close, and I learned how quickly a normal situation can turn into something frightening.

The biggest lesson That even if you're small, even if you look fragile, even if your voice shakes, you can see still stand up for yourself. You can say no. You can make it clear you're not an easy target. That girl, timid as she seemed at first, showed me that. And I've carried it with me ever since. To be continued.