Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Three Terrifying Late-Night Encounters That Changed Lives Forever PART1 #11

Episode Date: October 9, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #latenightencounters #realhorrorstories #chillingmoments #creepyexperiences #unsettlingevents  “Three Terrifying Late-Night Encounters That Changed Lives Forever PART 1” explores real-life experiences where ordinary people faced terrifying events late at night. From unsettling noises to unexplainable presences, these encounters left a lasting impact on the witnesses. Each story captures the fear, tension, and vulnerability of facing the unknown when darkness falls.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, latenightencounters, realhorrorstories, chillingmoments, creepyexperiences, unsettlingevents, nightterrorstories, frighteningencounters, realfear, nightmarefuel, darkmoments, scaryexperiences, mysteriousencounters, hauntingmoments, truehorrorstories

There's so much rugby on Sports Exter from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter Sports Extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time we've got every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup, and much more. Thus the URC and all the best European rugby all in the same place.

Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra. Jampack with rugby. Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Standard Pressing applies after 12 months for the terms apply. I know what you're feeling and I was there too.

And I know you might think that there is nobody to talk to, but I promise that you're not alone. It was never your fault, and you deserve support and healing in your own time. Whenever you're ready to talk, Dublin Rape Crisis Centre will be ready to listen. Call the 24-hour National Helpline on 1-800-77-888-8. Horro

It all started on one of those nights where sleep just isn't happening. You know the kind when your brain is like, hey, remember every embarrassing thing you've ever done? And you're lying there staring at the ceiling, wide awake. It was January 2013 freezing outside, Canada freezing, not, oh, it's a little chilly freezing. And I'd given up on sleep somewhere around 1 a.m. I was sprawled on my couch watching moon. sunrise kingdom, trying to trick myself into feeling cozy. The thing about Canadian winters is that

they're not just cold. They're like knife in your lungs cold. That night the temperature was holding steady at maybe two or three degrees and the roads were basically glass. And my kitchen? Completely useless. The only food in the house was oyster crackers and ketchup. I actually sat there staring at the crackers for a solid minute, wondering if I could convince myself they were a meal. Spoiler, I couldn't. So I did what any rational, hungry, sleep-deprived person would do. I paused the movie, layered up like I was about to trek across the Arctic, and decided I was going to the mini-mark a couple miles away. Walking outside was like walking into a freezer you didn't order, the kind that also hates you. I locked the door behind me, shuffled over the icy,

path to my car and instantly regretted every life choice that had led me to this point. Breathing hurt. My scarf was already stiff with frost. But my stomach was running the show, so I scraped the ice off my windshield, climbed into my frozen little car, and shoved the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, heater cranked immediately, but I didn't turn on my headlights yet. I just sat there, waiting for the interior to stop feeling like a walk-in fridge. That's when I noticed it. A red cavalier rolled down my street, quiet as anything on that ice, and pulled into the driveway of the townhouse kitty corner from mine.

No big deal, right? People come and go all the time. But then the doors opened. Three people got out, two from the front seats, one from the back, and my stomach dropped because the guy getting out of the back seat had his hands tied behind him. Before I could even process what I was looking at, the man who'd been sitting back there with him pulled something under his coat, a tire iron. And then wham! He hit the tight-up man, hard enough that I could hear the thunk even through my closed car windows. The bound man crumpled into the snow like a rag doll. And it didn't stop there. The attacker just kept swinging.

His legs, his back, strike after strike, blood starting to seep into the snow around them, red patches blooming against all that white. It was past midnight. The streets were dead. The only light came from a few distant street lamps casting these ghostly yellow pools across the ice. And me? I was frozen in place,

sitting in my car like an idiot watching a scene I absolutely did not want to be part of. I didn't know them, didn't recognize a single face. But I could hear them yelling, angry, sharp bursts of words that I couldn't quite make out. Then the driver came around from the front of the car,

and in his hand, a gun. Oh, I whispered, too loud, and instantly slapped my mouth over my hands. My brain was screaming. I'm about to watch someone die. There was no morbid curiosity here, no, ooh, true crime and real life fascination. This wasn't a Netflix special.

This was real, raw violence. And I was close enough that if any of them looked up and noticed me, I was screwed. My car was running, but so was theirs. And I wasn't stupid. On ice like this, if they decided to chase me, I'd have nowhere to go. The driver crouched down, pressing the gun to the bleeding man. Stayed there a moment, maybe talking to him.

My pulse hammered in my ears. For a second, I dared to hope they'd just scare him, leave him there, and drive off. I had my phone in my pocket, and no, I didn't call the cops. Before you judge me, remember, this is Canada. And my personal experience, the cops don't show up for this kind of thing until long after it's over. Plus, I wasn't about to risk the glow of my phone screen giving me away. Think that's cowardly? Try sitting 50 yards from an armed stranger in the middle of the night and then get back to me.

While the guy with the gun kept talking, the tire iron guy just stood there. No hat, no gloves, like the cold didn't even touch him, just staring down at the man on the ground. And then my car betrayed me. The engine coughed just a little, that tiny stutter they sometimes do, and tire iron guy's head snapped up. His eyes locked right in my direction. I swear my heart stopped. We just stared at each other across the icy street, me frozen in my seat, him squinting like he was trying to figure out if what he was seeing was real. Then he started walking toward me. Maybe he'd spotted the exhaust cloud for my idling car.

Maybe he just wanted to check. Either way, my body chose flight before my brain even caught up. I killed the engine, flung the door open, and bolted. I didn't even close it behind me, just ran full speed toward my front door, shoes slipping on the ice. Somewhere behind me, I heard, hey! My heart was in my throat. Every step I expected to feel a bullet tear into me, but it never came. I slammed into my front door, fumbling with the keys. Behind me, thud, a curse. He'd slipped on the ice.

I didn't turn around to check, just forced the lock, yanked the door open, and threw myself inside. Lock, deadbolt. Then I ran straight to the guest room in the back of the house. Small window, facing the backyard. Perfect for hiding. I kept the lights off, dropped to the floor beside the bed, and just lay there, shaking, trying to hear anything over my own breathing. I expected pounding on the door, a crash, something. Instead, footsteps. Not outside, inside. Slow, heavy thuds on the carpet moving down the hallway toward me. I clamp my hands over my mouth again, heart racing so hard I thought it might give me away. If he touched the doorknob, I was calling 911 and telling them my house was on fire because maybe that would actually get a quick response. The footsteps stopped. Then I heard

movement in the living room. Then silence. Minutes dragged like hours. I stayed frozen until pale morning light started slipping through the curtains. Finally, gripping an empty wine bottle like a baseball bat, I crept toward the hallway, no sound. I peaked outside two police cars in my neighbor's driveway. The cavalier? Gone. No gunshots during the night, no screaming, just... Gone. In the kitchen I saw it.

My back door, unlocked, and carved in my wooden table one single word. Quiet. An hour later, a knock at my door, cops. They said there had been an old. salt next door, my neighbor was in the hospital, and they wanted to know if I'd seen anything. I lied. Told them I'd passed out at midnight watching movies and only just woke up. Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but those men, they knew where I lived, and if they were willing to carve threats into my table, I wasn't about to volunteer myself as a witness.

The cops asked if I knew my car door was ajar. I played dumb, said I must have forgotten to shut it all the way. They nodded. and left. The table went in the trash. I bought a new one. Installed a security system. I'm not proud of how I handled it. But I'm alive. Call me a coward if you want. Better a living coward than a dead hero. And I haven't gone for a late night snack run since. To be continued.