Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Uncovering the Dark Secrets of Stinson Beach and the Haunting Pigman Tape PART3 #75

Episode Date: October 7, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #stinsonbeach #pigmantape #hauntinglegends #truehorrorstories #darkencounters  “Uncovering the Dark Secrets of Stinson Beach and the Haunting Pigman Tape PART 3” dives even deeper into the terrifying legends and unexplained occurrences surrounding Stinson Beach. The Pigman Tape continues to haunt those who dare to explore it, revealing sinister truths and paranormal encounters that defy explanation. This installment uncovers chilling new angles of fear, blending urban legend with real-life horror that lingers long after the story ends.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, stinsonbeach, pigmantape, darksecrets, hauntedstories, creepyencounters, paranormalfear, chillingtales, mysteriouslegends, nightmarefuel, truehorrorstories, unsettlingstories, hauntedplaces, terrifyingmoments, urbanlegends

It started the way the weirdest things often do, quiet, ordinary, almost boring. A single street stretched out ahead, faded asphalt cracked in spider-web patterns, littered here and there with fallen leaves and paper scraps the wind refused to move along. The air was still in that strange way that made your skin prickle, like the world was holding its breath. Then I noticed him. He walked in this clumsy, lopsided way, as if each step was slightly too heavy for his legs. Behind him, a line of children trailed, mimicking his awkward pace like a strange little parade. They didn't chatter the way kids normally do, no giggling, no random bursts of energy.

Just quiet, synchronized steps, their heads all tilting slightly forward. Oh, gee, he said suddenly, turning his head in this jerky, puppet-like motion. I didn't see you there. His voice was cheerful enough, but there was something about the way his mouth moved, a little too wide, a little too slow, that made my stomach not. We're on our way to the playground, he continued in that oddly rehearsed tone. Care to join us, the group kept moving, but it felt wrong. As I followed them with my eyes, I realized they weren't actually going anywhere.

They passed the same park bench again. And again. And again. The exact same bench, with peeling green paint and a bird-dropping state, on the left side of the backrest. I counted, over a dozen times, they looped past it. And the birds, oh, the birds, chirped the exact same sound every time. Not just similar. Identical. Like someone hit the same sound effect button on repeat. Well, let's go, the pigman suddenly shouted, startling me. The moment the words left his mouth, the scene around him flickered, like an old tape

skipping, and now they were all standing in a playground. Hello, boys and girls, he called out, standing in the middle of a wide circle of children. Hello, Mr. Piggy Tun, they yelled back in perfect unison. What followed could have been any innocent children's show. For the next few minutes, they sang songs, most of them familiar nursery tunes, except for one I'd never heard before. Apparently, it was the theme song of the movie the show was tied to. The chorus went like this. It's where the children play together, and be best friends forever.

Hyde and I will try to find you. We really love each other. Nothing could be better than spending forever with you. The melody was the same one I'd heard faintly at the very start of the tape, which sent a strange chill through me. Behind the circle, adults sat on benches, some reading newspapers, others just watching. I assumed they were parents. The children laughed and ran about, playing hide-and-seek, kickball, tag, and hopscotch. Mr. Piggyton didn't seem creepy anymore, at least not in this part. He was like a pig-faced Barney, tossing out cheerful life lessons between games. But after two episodes of wholesome playground antics, something shifted.

The third episode began in a dimly lit room. The light overhead flickered, buzzing faintly like it was ready to die. In the far corner sat a man with his back to the back to the camera. He didn't move, just sat there humming the show's theme song softly. Then, slowly, the humming grew louder, and louder, until it turned into full-out singing, his voice ragged but forceful. Suddenly, the door burst open. Shut the hell up, you underscore underscore, pig, barked an angry man holding a wooden baseball bat. He tossed a single slice of bread onto the floor like it was garbage. The man in the corner crawled toward it, sniffing it before shoving it down his throat.

Then he staggered to the door, pounding on it. More. I want more. A muffled voice on the other side shouted back, get the hell away from the door. But Daddy, I want more, the voice calling him Daddy didn't match his large, broad-shouldered frame. It was deep, masculine, unsettlingly grown. Get the hell away from the door, the voice snapped again. Finally, the man shuffled back to the middle of the room, where a pile of toys sat. He picked up a stuffed bear. Daddy is such a meanie, isn't he, Teddy, he asked, then answered himself in a different voice. Yes, he is. He grabbed a toy car.

Veroom, vroom, he whispered, sliding it across the grimy floor. The tape cut abruptly. Now it showed the pigman standing alone in a street, awkwardly dancing to his own humming. Three ambulances sat in the background. Paramedics were loading a covered body into one of them. I should have turned it off. But I didn't. The pigman kept spinning, his dark, glassy eyes locking with mine through the screen.

My breath caught. It felt like he could see me, like I wasn't just watching a tape, but standing right there on that street. He stopped dancing, pressed a finger to his lips in a S-H-H gesture, then went right back to that slow, eerie dance. The scene cut back to the man in the room, still playing with toys. Ten minutes of this passed before the father barged in again. Give me those goddamn toys, he snarled, snatching them away one by one. You're too old for this, underscore underscore. Please, Daddy, please, let me keep Teddy.

The father ignored him, slamming the door on his way out. The man sat there crying, then abruptly stopped. At least I still have you, Toby. I glanced around the room on the screen, there was no one else there. You'll never leave me, will you? He laid down on the bed, pulling a thin white sheet over himself. I had a dream last night, Toby. Mr. Piggyton was real, and all of us children were dancing and singing.

You were there too. It was the best dream I ever had. One day, I'm going to have my own town where only children can play. Just us children and Mr. Piggyton, muffled shouting echoed from outside the room. Mommy and Daddy are arguing again, he muttered. Then he began singing the show's theme song, louder and louder, until the father stormed in with the bat. I told you to shut the hell up. The bat came down.

Blood splattered. The man collapsed. unconscious, and was dragged out, leaving a crimson trail. Another cut. The same man was now sitting in the corner, rocking, a huge bruise swelling on the back of his head. You quit that damn banging, you hear, the father barked, tossing another slice of bread onto the floor. This time, as the man crawled toward the bread, his face turned toward the camera. His mouth was crudely stitched shut. His father's laugh was muffled as the man struggled to chew. Then, another cut. The pigman stood alone in a foggy, abandoned playground. The only sound was the faint echo of children

singing the theme song, even though no one else was there. He didn't move, just stared into the camera with those deep, shadowed eyes. Then he slowly raised a finger to his lips again and whispered, Shu. When he vanished, the scene returned to the room. The man was hanging from the ceiling by his neck. His stitched mouth made his face look permanently frozen in a silent scream. The camera turned, revealing a pig costume laid neatly on the floor, its empty eyes staring into the lens. Another flicker, now the pigman was holding the camera himself in a grimy bathroom. His other hand gripped a butcher knife.

The costume was smeared with fresh blood. I shut the tape off. But the images didn't leave me. They never left me. Night after night, the nightmares came. In one, I was in a deserted town. Graffiti scrawled in chalk covered every wall and sidewalk, Mr. Piggyton, play, and countless names. The most chilling was a giant, childish drawing of the pigmen outside an abandoned candy store, with the words, well, let's all have some fun. Streetlights flickered. The sky stayed stubbornly overcast. Children's laughter echoed everywhere. Then came the melody. Up ahead, a figure stood still. Twelve steps closer, I saw him. The pigman.

Blood on his costume. Knife in hand. He just stared. Those eyes, so dark they felt bottomless, locked me in place. I could hear his breathing. To be continued.