Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Uncovering the Dark Secrets of Stinson Beach and the Haunting Pigman Tape PART2 #74

Episode Date: October 7, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #stinsonbeach #pigmantape #hauntedlegends #darkencounters #truehorrorstories  “Uncovering the Dark Secrets of Stinson Beach and the Haunting Pigman Tape PART 2” continues unraveling the chilling mysteries surrounding the eerie coastal town and the disturbing legends tied to the Pigman Tape. As the darkness deepens, unsettling encounters, whispered folklore, and the terrifying weight of hidden truths leave behind a lingering sense of dread. These stories remind us that some legends grow stronger the more they’re uncovered.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, stinsonbeach, pigmantape, darksecrets, urbanlegends, hauntedstories, creepyencounters, chillingtales, paranormalfear, truehorrorstories, mysteriouslegends, nightmarefuel, hauntedplaces, unsettlingstories, terrifyingmoments

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 been 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, further terms apply. Oh, Amy, my little one.

I ask myself a million questions every day. When will you give me your first smile? How much sleep do you need? How can I help you and your big brother to get along? At the HSE's Mychild.I.E and in the free MyChaw books, you'll find the answers you need from doctors, midwives, public health nurses, dieticians and lots of other experts. Mychild.com.I.E.

expert advice for every step of pregnancy, baby and toddler health. from the HSE. When I woke up on Saturday morning, the first thought that hit me was that Sarah still hadn't come home. It wasn't just strange anymore, it was impossible to explain away. I'd gone to sleep on the couch with the TV still murmuring in the background, thinking maybe she'd slip in quietly while I was out cold. But the cushions beside me were empty, my phone had no new messages, and her shoes were still gone from by the door. With Sarah missing, there was no way I could even think about going to meet John at Stinson. The idea of chasing down some thing he wanted to show me felt absurd now, like worrying about a paper cut while your house is on fire.

I needed to figure out where she was. I spent the first hour after waking scouring local news sites and highway alerts, trying to see if there had been any car accidents reported the night before. Nothing. Every report felt either too small to matter or too big to be connected. Finally, my nerves got the better of me and I called the sheriff's office directly. I have expected them to tell me I needed to wait 24 hours before filing anything. I'd always heard that missing person cases had some kind of waiting period. But the woman on the phone told me there was no such rule and that I could file right away. I gave her every detail I could think of, what she was wearing when I last saw her,

the time she left work, the fact that her mom and I had both tried calling with her. no answer. She promised to call me back if they heard anything. Later that day, Sarah's mom called again. I could hear the panic in her voice, the thin thread of hope straining with every hour that passed. She'd been making her own calls, asking around, and she still hadn't heard anything. Her worry only made mine worse. Sunday, April 10th, I woke in the early hours of the morning from a nightmare so vivid it felt like reality had just bent sideways and and snapped back. In the dream, I was in bed, but the air was freezing. The sheets clung to me, heavy and wet, like they'd been soaked in ice water. The smell was unmistakable, salt and seaweed,

sharp and heavy in my nose. Everything was soaked. The mattress squished under my weight, the pillows dripped cold against my face, and my arms were wrapped around Sarah. Her skin was just as cold as the water, maybe even colder. I propped myself up, fumbling for the lamp, my fingers numb. When the light came on, I saw that she was lying on her side, her back to me, and her arms were bound behind her with rough twine. The cords bit into her wrists, turning her hands a dead shade of blue. Thin lines of blood trickled from the cuts the rope had made. I couldn't move. Tara rooted me in place, the kind that floods every cell in your body and convinces you that moving will make things worse. Slowly, so slowly, it felt like minutes, Sarah rolled on to her back.

It was her. And it wasn't. Her face looked wrong, stretched somehow, her nose flattened like it was pressed hard against glass. Her eyes were bright, almost too bright, catching the light like the surface of the sea at sunset. and her mouth, it was locked into this unnatural grin, far too wide, with far too many teeth glinting inside. She spoke in a voice that was hers and not hers at the same time, there's something I need to show you. I woke gasping, tangled in my real sheets, my skin slick with sweat. But the smell of the ocean was still there, faint but unmistakable. Later, when I finally left the house to

grab food, I noticed something that made my stomach drop, wet, sandy footprints leading from the grass outside right up to my front door. And tied tightly around the handle was a length of wet twine. When I unwound it, my fingers came away stained a dull red. Monday, April 11th, I didn't sleep at all that night. When morning came, I called in sick to work. I barely left the couch, letting the TV run in the background. Food didn't even cross my. mind. At some point, I must have dozed off, because the TV's blaring woke me. It wasn't a normal broadcast, it was chaos. A local reporter was on screen, his voice almost a shout, his tone panicked. He was talking about hundreds of dead bodies washing up on the beach overnight.

Every single one had their hands bound behind their backs. Then, he looked straight into the camera, straight at me, and said, you need to get to the beach. There's something I need to show you, the TV clicked off. The apartment was suddenly silent and freezing, the smell of saltwater pressing against me like an invisible tide. Tuesday, April 12th, I got a few hours of restless sleep, but no dreams, thank God for that. Still, I felt like my brain was fraying at the edges. My thoughts were slippery, hard to keep in order.

There's so much rugby on Sports Extra 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

That's 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. Collini, did you know if your age between 25 and 65? Well, you can get a free HPV cervical check. It's one of the best ways to protect yourself from cervical cancer. And you know what? I actually checked only recently when mine was due and no exaggeration. It took me less than five minutes. You go online to hse.e.

forward slash cervical check. Put in your PPS number. Sheik in the date of birth. And then they tell you when your next appointment is due. Oh my God. I know. And you can check you on the register on the website. You can phone [phone].

If your test is due today, you can book it today or hsc.iof, foreslash cervical check. I called work again, told them I was still sick. I didn't want to tell anyone there about Sarah. For some reason, it felt like involving more people would make it worse. That evening, a deputy from the sheriff's office called. He told me they'd found Sarah's car abandoned in a parking lot near Stinson Beach. When I tried to ask questions, when, where exactly, what condition it was in, he gave me nothing solid.

Just evasive answers, like he was trying to keep me from pushing. Then he told me to meet them at Stinson first thing tomorrow morning. It struck me as odd, shouldn't they want to talk to me at the station? But before hanging up, he said it was imperative I come, that there was something he needed to show me. Later, I called Sarah's parents to tell them about the car. Her dad answered, and his reaction chilled me more than anything yet. He said, in this calm, almost detached tone, that it wasn't important anymore, and that

everything was going to be okay. Then he echoed the deputy's words, just make sure you meet with him tomorrow morning, okay? There's something you need to see. Wednesday, April 13th, another nightmare. Or at least, I hope it was. At this point, I'm so sleep deprived I can't tell you. the difference anymore. In the dream, I was in bed again. The clock read 3.28 a.m. A faint tapping

sound came from the bedroom window. I tried to ignore it, but it came again. And again. Then I heard Sarah's voice outside, Walter, I know you're in there. Please let me in. There's something I want to show you. My blood went cold. Our bedroom window is on the second floor. I didn't look. I just bolted downstairs, eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to glance toward the blinds. I shut myself in the small guest bedroom on the first floor, locked the door, and sat there until daylight. The smell of seawater filled the house, heavier than ever. Thursday, April 14th, I'm at my limit. I can't keep doing this, sleeping in bursts, feeling reality warp at the edges. I've decided to write it all down here, put it somewhere people can read it.

Maybe they won't take it seriously, but at least it will be recorded. The sheriff has already called me twice today, asking where I am and hinting that maybe he should just send someone to pick me up. I keep telling myself that I'll go down there, talk to him, and come back home later. Hopefully. Number two, switching gears, because I need to get this other part out too. I grew up an only child in Clarence, Iowa. Most days, I entertained myself, either playing in the backyard or parked in front of the TV.

We didn't have a DVD player, my dad worked as a mechanic in some guy's garage, and we just couldn't afford it. So we stuck with VHS tapes. It wasn't all bad. My mom would take me to the local used game store every so often, and they had a small wall of tapes for cheap. I got hooked on collecting them. Disney movies, Tim Burton stuff, I'd watch Toy Story and The Lion King until the tape quality started to degrade. One year, my grandmother gave me four tapes as an early birthday present. I can't remember two of them now, but the other two stuck in

my mind, all dogs go to heaven, and a weird one I'd never heard of called where children play. The cover was strange. A man in a pig costume, not a car. cartoon pig, but a slightly off, unsettling one, stood in the middle of the image. He wore denim overalls and kids surrounded him, smiling. In the background, there was a playground. The title was written in Garrish, Clashing Colors that screamed late 90s design choices. The back of the case said the tape contained three episodes. It took me a few days to work up the nerve to watch it.

The pig costume weirded me out, but curiosity was. I popped the tape in. The screen lit up with chirping birds and a cheerful little melody. The man in the pig suit appeared, walking awkwardly down a suburban street. The kids followed behind, walking just as awkwardly, like they were imitating him. To be continued.