Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Unmasking the Fear Real Terrifying Stories of Home Intrusions and Hidden Threats PART1 #57

Episode Date: October 5, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #homeintrusions #hiddenthreats #creepyencounters #nightterror #truehorrorstories  Part 1 introduces real-life chilling stories of home intrusions and hidden dangers. These accounts reveal how quickly a seemingly safe home can become a scene of terror, with unseen threats and unexpected encounters keeping victims on edge. Each story serves as a grim reminder to stay vigilant.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, homeintrusions, hiddenthreats, creepyencounters, nightterror, truehorrorstories, spinechilling, suspensefulmoments, eerieencounters, disturbingtruths, survivalhorror, terrifyingencounters, mysteriousintruders, hauntedhomes, darkrealities

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. 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. Jampact 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. You didn't deserve what happened.

And it doesn't have to define you. You don't have to carry it alone. I know a safe place where you can tell your story, and you'll be believed. Call the Dublin Rape Crisis Centre National Helpline on 1-800-77-8888. Whenever you're ready to talk, they'll be ready to listen.

People around here like to say our state has its share of ghosts, but there's one particular story that never seems to die. It's the kind of tale you hear as a kid around a campfire, or whispered at a sleepover, usually with a flashlight under someone's chin. The kind that, when you get older, you roll your eyes at and say, yeah, sure, whatever, but deep down, you remember it. It's the legend of the woman in the woods. According to the story, she lived all alone with her two kids,

way out where the trees get so thick you could walk in circles for days without finding your way out. Nobody agrees on what happened to her husband. Some people claim he died young. Others say he ran off with another woman. A few insist he was a soldier, off fighting in some war, which war? No one can tell you. Everyone just shrugs and says, a long time ago, the one thing everyone agrees on is that this story isn't new. It's been passed around for decades, maybe longer.

And, depending on who's telling it, the ending changes a little, but the middle is always the same. One winter night, a stranger came to her door. The wind was howling, snow whipping sideways through the trees. Her children were asleep, bundled under heavy blankets in the back room, while she sat by the fire. When she opened the door, the man was standing there, shivering, his cheeks red from the cold. He asked her for food and a place to warm up for a while. She let him in, maybe because she felt sorry for him, maybe because she was lonely. They talked for hours.

She sat across from him, hands wrapped around a mug, listening to his stories. By the time the sun began to rise, he was ready to leave. At the door, he turned to her and said he wanted to repay her kindness. If you go dig under that big tree in your yard, he told her, you'll find some money I buried there. Now, a woman raising two kids on her own didn't exactly have the luxury of turning down extra cash. So, she grabbed a shovel and stepped outside into the brittle morning air. But as soon as the shovel bit into the frozen dirt, she heard a noise, the sound of one of her children crying out in pain. Heart in her throat, she dropped the shovel

and ran back inside. Both kids were still asleep, breathing slow and deep. She should shook it off, told herself it was just her imagination, and went back outside to dig. Again, the shovel broke the ground, and again, she heard it. This time it was louder, screaming, desperate and awful, like her child was being hurt. She stopped, trembling, torn between running back to check again and pushing through. Eventually, she forced herself to keep digging. She had to know if the man was telling the truth. She told herself that whatever she was hearing couldn't be real.

The screaming eventually stopped. She never found any money. Cursing the stranger under her breath, she headed back inside, and that's when she screamed. Her children were dead. Murdered in their beds. She ran, wild-eyed, threw the snow toward the nearest farm. When the farmer met her at the edge of his property, he froze. Her clothes, her clothes, her hands, even the shovel she'd carried, all of it was covered in blood.

They said she killed her kids. She was arrested, tried, and sentenced to hang. But the story doesn't stop there. On the day of the execution, something went wrong, or maybe it was done on purpose. The rope was tied wrong. When she dropped from the platform, it didn't strangle her. It cut clean through her neck. The legend says her head rolled across the ground while her body hung there, twitching.

They buried her somewhere in what's now part of a national park. And here's the warning, if you're hiking out there and you see a woman in rags, pale as the moon, and she asks if you have any money, you'd better give her something. Doesn't matter what. A few bills, some coins. Anything. Because if you don't, she'll kill you. For years, people who knew the story was.

would slip some cash into their pockets before hiking the park's trails, just in case. Me? I never really bought into it. I mean, yeah, it's creepy, but the details never made much sense. Why would the stranger test her like that? She was a single mom trying to survive in a time when life was already brutally hard. Dangle money in front of her and then punish her for going after it. If there's a moral to that story, I've never figured it out. Besides, I've always been the type to roll my eyes at Haunted Park Stories. This place is massive, miles and miles of trails through forests, hills, and meadows. I've hiked it in every season, and it's gorgeous.

In the fall, the leaves blaze red and gold. In the winter, everything goes quiet except for the crunch of snow under your boots. There's so much rugby on Sports Exeter 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 You didn't deserve what happened And it doesn't have to define you You don't have to carry it alone. I know a safe place where you can tell your story, and you'll be believed.

Call the Dublin Rape Crisis Centre National Helpline on 1-800-77-888-8-8. Whenever you're ready to talk, they'll be ready to listen. I go hiking alone a lot. At first, yeah, I brought a little cash, not because I believed in the legend, but because it was almost like a lot. a joke. A charm. But after a while, the whole thing started to feel silly. I stopped carrying money entirely. Then came the day that tested my nerves in ways I didn't know were possible. It was raining that morning, steady, cold drizzle, the kind that turns the trail into a ribbon of mud. I was alone, as usual, halfway through one of the longer loops in the park.

The only sounds were the steady patter of rain dripping from the trees and the occasional knock knock of a woodpecker somewhere in the distance. About three quarters of the way through, I saw someone ahead on the trail. At first, I didn't think much of it. I'm not the only person who likes hiking in the rain. But as I got closer, I realized something was off. It was a woman. She was wearing what looked like a long dress, or maybe it used to be a dress.

The fabric was so filthy I couldn't even guess its original color. The legend came to mind instantly, but I told myself this was just some weirdo in costume, maybe trying to spook hikers for fun. Two thoughts ran through my head. One, maybe I was about to be part of some dumb YouTube prank. Two, if this was real, I was in trouble. If you're reading this, you might think the obvious move would be to turn around and walk, or run, the other way. But when you're actually in a situation like that, it's not so simple. When fear hits, your brain clings to normality as long as it can.

You tell yourself, this can't be real. It's fine. Don't overreact. I kept walking forward, every muscle in my body tight, telling myself I wasn't going to give this person, whatever she was, the satisfaction of seeing me bolt. As I got closer, more details came into focus. Her posture was stiff, unnatural. Her long, dark hair hung in tangled clumps. Her skin was pale, almost gray.

Her eyes were, wrong. Glazed over, like she wasn't really looking at anything. I slowed my pace, careful, until I was close enough that I'd have to step around her to pass. That's when I realized she was muttering. Not speaking clearly, just this low, incoherent stream of sound that made my skin crawl. My hands were slick with sweat. My breathing felt too loud in my own ears. The world shrank until it was just the two of us and the strip of muddy trail between us.

And here's the worst part, that was the one and only time I'd gone out there without any money. She was close enough now that I could see her jaw tremble, not with emotion, but in this weird, mechanical way. Then I understood. That knocking sound I'd been hearing wasn't a woodpecker. It was her. She was rattling her teeth together, sharp and fast, like bone against bone. She stopped in front of me, her dead eyes locking with mine. You have any money?

Her voice was flat but laced with hostility. One of her hands lifted, poised to grab me. Before I could even think, I blurted out, no, but I know where some is buried. She froze. I pointed toward a side path leading up to the highest point in the park. She turned her head slowly, then started walking into the underbrush, her jaw still knocking, her muttering resuming. The second she was off the trail, I ran. I don't know if she realized right away that I'd lied. I didn't know if she'd follow, or how fast she could move, or if she

even moved like a human. All I knew was that I had to get out. I tore down the trail, slipping in the mud, heart hammering in my throat. Eventually, the woods broke open. and I found myself at the top of a grassy hill sloping down into a hayfield. Beyond that, a narrow trail curved around the field beside a stream, then climbed another hill to the parking lot. I was so close. I flew down the hill, nearly pitching forward onto my face. I was halfway to the bottom when I heard it, that knocking sound, echoing from the edge of the woods behind me. Against all better judgment, I looked. At first, nothing. Then I saw movement, small, dark, rolling down the hill.

My brain tried to label it, a dog, maybe? A Pomeranian? Something like that. Then it turned, and I saw the face. It wasn't a dog. It was her head. Her decapitated head, rolling and bouncing toward me, black hair whipping in the air. I ran harder than I've ever run in my life.

I hit the little wooden bridge over the stream without slugetka. slowing down, almost losing my footing on the slick boards. My legs burned as I scrambled up the gravel hill toward the parking lot, bloodying my ankles on the sharp stones in my desperation to get away. When I reached my car, my hands shook so badly I fumbled the keys twice before. My daughter, Ellie, had this ankle pain and we went to see VHI orthopedics. They actually picked up on her fatigue issues. So they brought in a rheumatologists and just a few small tests.

they realized that Ellie was sediac. So what was brilliant was that VHI had a pediatric dietitian ready to help manage her diet. Really felt seamless. VHI, because your health means everything. For getting the door open. I jammed the key into the ignition, slammed it into gear and peeled out without a glance behind me.

But I couldn't stop checking the rearview mirror. I kept expecting to see that mass of black hair rolling after me down the road. Nothing. When I got home, I locked and chained the door, then went from window to window, making sure each one was shut tight. For days, I was terrified to even look outside, afraid I'd hear that sound again, the awful, rhythmic knocking of her teeth. I haven't heard it yet. But I'm still waiting. To be continued.