Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - White Vans and Cold Shivers Terrifying True Encounters That Still Haunt Survivors PART2 #40

Episode Date: September 22, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales  #trueencounters #creepynights #vanmystery #hauntedmemories #fearstories  Continuing the unsettling series, PART 2 dives deeper into spine-chilling experiences with enigmatic white vans and haunting sensations of cold shivers. Survivors reveal more encounters that defy explanation, blending fear, mystery, and the relentless grip of trauma that refuses to fade. These true tales keep the horror alive, leaving readers on edge.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales,  trueencounters, creepynights, vanmystery, hauntedmemories, fearstories, thriller, suspense, paranormalactivity, survival, eerie, terrifying, urbanmyth, nightterror, coldfear, unexplained

I still remember that day like it was yesterday. The air smelled like wet grass, and the playground was almost empty except for me and Parker. He was this kid I only sort of knew, always rode around on his bike, never really talked much. I had left for maybe 30 seconds, just long enough to run across the field to grab something I'd left behind. When I came back, Parker was gone. At first, I thought maybe he just rode off. but then I saw it, the white van. The same one I'd noticed before, parked on the side of the road near the playground.

My stomach dropped. Parker's bike was lying on the ground next to the van, one will still spinning like it had just fallen. I froze. My brain screamed at me to move, but my feet felt glued to the ground. I was pretty sure whoever was in that van saw me. My instincts kicked in, and I bolted. I spun around and sprinted down the sidewalk like my life depended on it. My bike rattled underneath me as I sped home, heart hammering in my chest.

When I finally skidded into my driveway, I didn't dare leave my bike out front. I tossed it over the back gate so no one could see it from the road, then ran inside and slammed the door, locking it behind me. I was drenched in sweat, shaking like crazy. After maybe 20 seconds of trying to catch my breath, I tipped to a little. to the people. My heart stopped. The white van was creeping down the main road, slow as ever. I watched it pass my street and disappear. I remember thinking Parker had been kidnapped and now the van was hunting me. Honestly, even today, I don't think that was an unreasonable conclusion. But here's the thing, I never saw Parker actually get pulled into that van. For all I know,

maybe the driver said something that freaked him out and he ran off without his bike. That wouldn't have made the news, and nobody would have called the police over an abandoned bike. I didn't even know Parker well enough to follow up. He could have moved away. He could have just been visiting his grandma for the week. I'll never know. What I do know is that I never saw Parker, or that white van, again. It stuck with me though. That feeling of knowing danger was right there, but no one else saw it. Even now, I tell people, pay attention to your surroundings. Teach your kids to do the same. Bad things can happen even in places that feel safe. Flash forward a few years. I'm 19 now, in university, but this next story happened when I was

around 14 or 15, back in secondary school. It was an IT class, and of course, I wasn't paying attention. I was messing around on instant messenger, playing some dumb flash game, the usual. Then the classroom door opened and then walked two police officers. Everyone freaked out for a second, police at school always felt like a big deal. Once everyone calmed down, the officers explained why they were there. They warned us about a middle-aged man driving around the area in a white Toyota van, harassing girls our age and trying to lure them into his van. He'd been seen multiple times, and we should be careful walking home.

A few days passed, and I mostly forgot about it. Usually, I finished school around 2.35 p.m., but one day I stayed late to catch up on homework. By the time I left, it was closer to 4 o'clock. Of course, that meant I missed my usual bus. The driver was a real jerk and never waited for stragglers. My only option was to walk home. If I'd known what was about to happen, I would have called my mom. But I didn't.

I just started the 30-minute walk. By the time I was three-quarters of the way home, I reached this long stretch of road that cut through a few empty fields. A narrow bike path ran alongside it. It was winter, and with no streetlights, the whole place was pitch black. I was about halfway down when I noticed headlights behind. me. At first, I didn't think much of it. Cars passed there all the time. But as the vehicle got closer, I realized it was a white Toyota van. My stomach tightened. The van slowed down and pulled into the driveway of a farmhouse about 200 meters ahead. My heart started pounding.

I kept walking, pretending I wasn't scared, but every nerve in my body was on high alert. As I passed the van, I heard a door creak open. I risked to glance over my shoulder. A tall, sketchy-looking man stepped out and just, stared at me. No wave, no hello, just this cold, heavy stare. That's when the adrenaline hit. I didn't think, I ran. I sprinted down that dark road as fast as my legs could carry me, which was extra awkward because our school uniform included one of those dumb pencil skirts. Behind me, I heard the sound of heavy footsteps. He was running too. The road curved to the right, and as soon as I was out of his line of sight,

I threw myself into a massive bramble bush on the side of the path. Thorns dug into my arms and legs, but I didn't care. I crouched there, holding my breath, listening. Minutes felt like hours. I expected to hear footsteps, breathing, anything, but nothing came. Just the cold winter wind and my own heartbeat in my ears. After ten, maybe fifteen minutes, I dared to move. My arms and legs were covered in scratches, but I forced myself out of the bush and kept walking.

When I finally saw the glow of the streetlights near my neighborhood, relief washed over me. I thought I was safe. Then the white van drove past me again. Panic surged through me. I didn't even think, I sprinted the rest of the same. the way home. When I turned on to my street, I caught sight of him one last time. He was driving the other way, still circling like a shark. The second I got inside, I told my parents. They called the police, who took my statement. He wasn't caught that night, but a few days later, the police

arrested him. He'd been lurking outside our school, trying to talk to other girls again. I never saw him after that. I assume he was. went to prison. Even now, I sometimes wonder what would have happened if he caught me. I think I know the answer, and it makes my skin crawl. The third time I had a run-in with someone who set off all my internal alarms, I was much younger. Maybe eight or nine. There was this tiny patch of trees along the road in my neighborhood, and all the kids called it the pinecone forest. It wasn't a real forest, just a cluster of trees big enough for kids to play pretend. I was there one afternoon, peeling bark off a tree, waiting for my friend Frankie to finish his homework so we could play.

That's when I smelled him before I saw him. The sharp, bitter stench of old cigarette smoke. I turned and saw a man walking toward me. He wasn't super old, maybe mid-40s, but something about him felt wrong. One of his eyes was cloudy, and his teeth and fingernails were stained yellow. Even as a kid, I felt my stomach twist. He stopped in front of me and smiled, but it wasn't friendly. It was the kind of smile that made my skin prickle.

My mom had always taught me to be polite, so I forced a tiny smile and said, Hi, what you doing? He asked, his voice raspy, his breath even worse than the smell of his clothes. I'm, picking bark off the tree, I muttered. You shouldn't do that, he said, reaching out and lightly pinching my arm with those gross yellow fingernails. That's like peeling off the tree's skin. How would you like it if someone peeled off your skin? I swallowed hard. I, don't know.

I jerked my arm back and took a step away. Just then, I heard Frankie's mom call me from her front door. Come wait inside, she yelled. I didn't think twice. I ran straight to her house. At the time, I didn't understand what had just happened. I didn't tell anyone, just filed it away as a weird moment. But yesterday, while visiting my sister's house and watching my son and nephews play in the yard,

the memory hit me like a cold wave. I told my mom about it for the first time. She went pale. She told me I'd probably had a very close call. Thinking back on all these moments, Parker disappearing by the playground, the man in the white van, the cigarette-smelling stranger in the pinecone forest, They all taught me something. Danger doesn't always look like danger at first. Sometimes it's a van that slows down just a little too much.

Sometimes it's a man who talks to you like he's your friend. Sometimes it's a smell that makes you want to run. And sometimes, it's the things you never fully know that stick with you the longest. To be continued.