Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - When Silence Calls A Chilling Tale of Obsession, Stalking, and Escaping the Unknown PART2 #63

Episode Date: September 15, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales  #paranormalstalker #obsessionhorror #fearinthedark #psychologicalthriller #unseenforce  Part 2 continues the haunting descent into the unknown as the stalker's presence intensifies. Nowhere feels safe — not her apartment, not her workplace, not even her mind. The silence is louder, the shadows deeper, and the fear more real than ever. As she begins to uncover unsettling clues about the identity of her stalker, it becomes clear this isn’t a person—it’s something else entirely. Time is running out, and the entity’s obsession is no longer about watching… it’s about taking. A story of dread, paranoia, and the creeping terror of being truly alone.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales,part2thriller, deeperterror, paranormalstalkerreturns, entityobsession, terrorinthewalls, nowheresafe, huntedbydarkness, psychologicaldescent, stalkedbysilence, unknownforce, shadowinthenight, horrorintensifies, escapefrommadness, surrealhorror

That creepy smile plastered across his face should have set off every alarm bell in my head, but it didn't. Not in the way it should have. I was still just 12, too young to grasp the full horror behind John's behavior. So I poked my head out the door and told him, as calmly as I could, Hey, my mom doesn't want you coming here anymore. But John didn't budge. I just want to talk, he said.

And being a dumb, naive kid, I actually stepped outside to join him on the point. porch. That's when he hit me with it. You're the most beautiful woman in the world, and I love you, he said. I know you're still young right now, so I'll wait. I'll wait a few years. I froze for a moment, then ran back inside, tears starting to roll down my face as my whole body shook. I went straight to my mom. Next thing I know, my parents stormed downstairs, ready to confront him. John, get the hell off our property right now, or we'll shoot your ass, my stepdad shouted. But John just stood there, still playing the creepy love-struck victim. You're just trying to deny us our love, he whined.

What the actual hell, John. Eventually, after more threats and warnings, he finally left, but not without delivering one final, chilling message. You can't keep her away from me forever. We'll be together. No matter what, we called the cops immediately. A restraining order was filed, but as anyone who's lived in a small town knows, word travels fast, and that kind of behavior does not go over well.

John got run out of town, basically forced back to wherever he came from, New York City, I think. I thought it was finally over. But then the phone calls started. They came from burner numbers, always different, always untraceable. My mom told me not to answer unless I knew the number. It was rough because our house phone doubled as the business line for my parents' company, so I was used to picking up all kinds of calls. What I didn't know at the time, what my mom didn't tell me until much later,

was that those calls started getting more graphic, more violent, more explicit. She shielded me from all of it. The cops were called again and again, but there wasn't much they could do. Then one day, it all stopped. Just like that. The silence was unsettling, but at the same time, we were relieved. It was finally done. Or so we thought. By the time I got to high school, John had become a fading nightmare. I had new problems, classes, friends, dumb boys who finally started paying attention to me. Everything felt normal. Until senior year. A letter should showed up. Addressed to me. You're old enough now. I've been waiting, just like I said I would.

Soon I'll be back, and we can be together. Just like we planned, we called the cops. Again. My school was alerted. For the next month leading up to graduation, I was never alone. Teachers kept an eye on me constantly. My mom insisted on driving me to and from school. I was a allowed to go anywhere with anyone else. I felt like a prisoner in my own life. My friends didn't get it. I couldn't tell them the full story, it was too much. Too dark. Then we got another call. This time, the cops had good news. The NYPD had arrested John on unrelated charges. They didn't give us details. Just that he was in custody. I was hopeful. Hopeful that that it was over for real this time. After graduation, I moved a few hours away and started

building a new life. I even got a gig in a local acting production that fall. Things were looking up. Then October hit. And just like before, two things happened in one week that brought the past screaming back. First, another letter arrived at my mom's house. Just as threatening as the one before, only more graphic. I won't repeat what it said, it still makes my stomach churn. Second, I found a note in my dressing room at the theater. It was vague. Something about meeting up with an old friend. No name. No details. Just, weird. I'll never know if that note was connected to John. But in my gut, I'm convinced it was. After that, I moved again. Changed my number.

Switched cities. I haven't heard from John since. And I hope, with every fibre of my being, that he never found another young girl to torment. Now, let's switch gears. I live in a pretty chill town in the Midwest. Not much crime here, some traffic violations, the occasional domestic call, but that's about it. We've got around 20,000 people, and it feels like I see someone I know every time. time I go to the grocery store. Back in 2008, I was turning 19 and decided I wanted to finally

have a real party. I'd been raised super sheltered, graduated from a private Christian school, never drank, never partied. Even when I started college, I didn't get into the whole college experience, but that year, that year was different. I dropped out of college, broke up with my boyfriend, and made some new friends who were all about the party life. They were always talking about house parties and drunken adventures. It sounded, fun. So for my birthday, I wanted to go big. My older friends helped me get booze. We invited a bunch of people over to my place. I lived alone in a three-bedroom house with an attached garage. The setup was perfect. Guests could crash in spare rooms, and smokers could hang in the garage. We even used to

the garage for beer pong sometimes. The party was a hit. My friends kept saying how great the house was for hosting. So we made it a thing. Parties every weekend. Word spread fast. By August, the place was packed every Friday night. Sometimes full of people I didn't even know. That part weirded me out a little, but someone always claimed they invited them. I'd wake up some mornings and find strangers passed out in my living room. But I'd just shrug it off, clean up, go to work, and do it all again the next weekend. No hard drugs. Just alcohol. I told myself it was fine. Then one September morning, something weird happened. I went to leave for work and noticed the garage door remote was missing from my car's sun visor. I looked everywhere, under the seats,

the floor, the glove box. Nothing. I figured I must have misplaced it while drunk. So I closed the garage using the keypad on the wall and headed to work. That night, I clocked out for lunch and was walking to my car when my phone rang. Unknown number. We used to prank each other all the time, so I answered expecting some goofy accent or dumb joke. Silence. Just silence. Weirded out, I hung up. Went back inside. Went back inside. Went a about my night. Later, when my shift ended and I walked to my car, the phone rang again. Same thing. Unknown number. Same silence. Now I was suspicious. The timing was too perfect. How would someone know exactly when I was walking out? I called my friend Lacey to see if it was her. She swore it wasn't, and her boyfriend backed her up. Okay, weird. But maybe just a coincidence. I brushed it off. A couple days later, I had time off work. Slept in, rolled out of bed around 11 a.m. I grabbed my phone and headed into the living room. It rang. Unknown number.

Silence. To be continued.