Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - White Vans and Cold Shivers Terrifying True Encounters That Still Haunt Survivors PART6 #44

Episode Date: September 23, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #vanhorrorstories #realnightmares #truesurvivorstories #urbanfearfiles #stalkingsurvivor  "White Vans and Cold Shivers: Terrifying True Encounters That Still Haunt Survivors PART 6" dives even deeper into the psychological scars left behind by unexplained encounters with ominous white vans. In this installment, survivors relive close calls and shadowy figures that seemed to know their every move. The fear isn’t just in what happened—but in what almost did. These stories are a final warning: you don’t need to believe in monsters, because sometimes the real ones drive vans and wear a smile.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, vanstalkerfiles, truestoriesofterror, nearabductiontales, realfearencounters, creepsinrealife, vanmysterychronicles, psychologicalhorrors, neighborhoodnightmares, survivoraccounts, truecrimehorror, everydayhorrors, darkurbanlegends, stalkedandhaunted, vanishedbeforeitwaslate

I've got to give the guy some credit, he was at least dressed for the occasion. But that doesn't change the fact that if I hadn't woken up when I did, I probably wouldn't be here telling you this story. It's crazy how something as simple as a dream can save your life. This all went down back in March of this year. My friends and I decided to take a trip to an abandoned campsite out in the backwoods of eastern Oklahoma. If you've ever been out there, you know it's nothing but miles and miles of trees, dirt roads, and the occasional run-down barn or trailer.

I'd actually been to this old campsite the year before. People said it was haunted. Now, this isn't some ghost story, so don't get your hopes up about seeing any floating specters or stuff flying around. I'm just mentioning that little detail because the haunted part was pretty much the reason we decided to check it out in the first place. There were five of us total, me, Tyler, Jordan, Abigail, and Angela. None of us were exactly outdoors-a-types, so of course, our brilliant plan was to enhance the adventure with some liquid courage and a little herbal encouragement.

Translation, we brought booze and weed. Specifically, we had two bottles of Henry, cheap whiskey, nothing fancy, and nine pre-rolled joints ready to go. We rolled up to the place around 11.30 p.m., which meant the woods were pitch black. We weren't stupid, though, we brought flashlight. and gloves because, you know, abandoned campsites usually have broken glass, rusted nails, and God knows what else lying around. We were fully prepared for tetanus if nothing else. About 15 minutes into our little expedition, Angela and Abigail started whining about how boring it was and how they wanted to go back. To be fair, at that point, all we had done was wander through trees and step over branches. But Jordan and Tyler had spent weeks hyping this up, and we weren't about to just call it quits. So we cracked open one of the bottles to get

the party started and convinced the girls to stick it out. Now, I don't really like alcohol. Whiskey especially tastes like gasoline and regret to me. But hey, I wasn't going to be the buskill. I took a swig and sparked up a joint to really get into the spirit of things. Bad idea. See, I have this thing where if I get drunk and high at the same time, paranoia smacks me like a freight train. Add in the fact that we were now about two miles deep into pitch black woods, and, well, let's just say I wasn't exactly setting myself up for a chill night. Sure enough, the paranoia kicked in fast. I started hearing things, rustling leaves, twigs snapping behind us.

At first, I told myself it was nothing. Maybe a raccoon. Maybe a deer. But eventually, I couldn't take it anymore, so I spun around and yelled into the darkness. Hey. Who's there? Not my smartest move. Abigail and Angela instantly freaked out, clutching each other like we were in a horror movie.

Tyler groaned and rolled his eyes. Dude, he said, what are you even talking about? I swear I heard footsteps, I insisted. I'm telling you, someone's following us. He just laughed. It's probably a raccoon, dumbass. How high are you right now? I didn't answer because, yeah, I was definitely messed up.

But I wasn't imagining it. We kept walking, and the footsteps, or what I thought were footsteps, kept stalking us. Even if it was an animal, that didn't exactly make me feel better. I'd never seen a black bear in the wild, but I was pretty sure they existed in Oklahoma. After another 20 minutes of stumbling through the trees, we finally reached the old campsite. It wasn't much to look at, just a bunch of empty, rotting cabins and a recreation hall with a collapsed roof. There was a single wooden picnic table in the middle of the clearing, and we all sat down to rest. It was around 12.50 a.m. By then, and our brilliant plan was to be to,

officially start partying. Picture this, five semi-drunk, high 20-somethings laughing way too loud on a deserted campground in the dead of night. If a horror movie director had stumbled across us, he wouldn't even have to write a script, we were already the dumb characters destined to die first. We'd all heard rumors about why the campsite closed. Some said a counselor had gone psycho and chopped up kids with a fire axe. Others claimed there were ritual killings. Personally, I figured the place just went bankrupt, but the ghost stories gave it a better vibe. Eventually, the alcohol caught up with me. One thing about me, I pee like a racehorse when I drink.

So I grabbed a flashlight and told everyone I was going to water a tree. I wandered far enough away that the group was out of sight because I didn't trust my friends not to prank me midstream. And that's when it happened. I was mid-pee when I heard a twig snap behind me. about 15 feet away. My brain immediately went to fight or flight mode. I froze, zipped up faster than I thought humanly possible, and spun around with my phone flashlight. That's when I nearly soiled myself for real. There, standing among the trees, were four hooded figures. Just, standing

there. Watching. I didn't wait to see if they were friendly. I bolted, sprinting back to the group, still fumbling with my zipper. Guys. We have to go. Now, at first, they thought I was messing with them. But the second they saw the look on my face, and the fact that I wasn't slowing down, they got the message. We all ran like hell.

And that's when things went from creepy to nightmare level terrifying. I could hear footsteps chasing us. Multiple sets. From behind. From the side. from everywhere. The realization hit me like a brick, we were deep in the woods, with no one around for miles, and whatever, or whoever, was following us wasn't friendly. We ran blind. Branches whipped our faces. Someone was screaming, I think it was Abigail. Then Angela tripped

and went down hard. Nobody else noticed, but I couldn't just leave her. I stopped, grabbed her arm, and yanked her back to her feet. She was sobbing and shaking so hard she could barely run, and by then, the others had vanished into the darkness. Moonlight barely filtered through the trees, and I didn't dare turn on my flashlight. I didn't want to make us an easy target. I grabbed Angela's hand and pulled her along, whispering, we're okay.

We just have to keep moving. After a few minutes of stumbling through the dark, we spotted an old shed, or what I thought was a shed. I made a split-second decision, we'd hide inside and call the others. The second we stepped in, a wall of stench hit us like a truck. Imagine the worst smell you've ever experienced and multiply it by ten. Angela puked instantly. I gagged so hard I thought the whiskey I'd choked down earlier was coming back for revenge.

I called Tyler. Straight to voicemail. Tried Jordan. Same thing. Angela's phone was dead, and I didn't even have Abigail's number. That's when Dredd crept in. The smell was only getting worse, and I had a horrible feeling I knew why. Against my better judgment, I crept deeper inside.

The first two rooms were empty. But the third. I can barely describe it without wanting to puke all over again. The first thing I saw was a face staring up from the floor. It took me a second to process that the face. wasn't attached to a body. Then my flashlight panned over to the wall. Two tors leaned there like someone had just tossed them aside. I can't even bring myself to describe the rest. There are some images that burn into your brain forever, and I pray you never have to know what I mean. I backed out of

that room so fast I tripped over my own feet. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped my phone. outside, footsteps. Getting closer. Angela, I whispered, if you want to live, we run. Don't look back. I came up with a desperate plan. I'd take off in the opposite direction to distract them while Angela made a break for the road. She didn't argue, just ran. I sprinted the other way, yelling to draw attention. My heart pounded like it was trying to escape my chest. I eventually dove behind a tree. I eventually dove behind a tree, covered myself with leaves and branches, and prayed. My whole body was shaking, and at one point, I felt something crawling down my leg, a spider, probably, but adrenaline kept me frozen.

Minutes crawled by like hours. I finally heard the footsteps fade. After another 15 minutes of hiding, I ran toward the road. I checked my phone, 2.17 a.m. I called my parents' house. Yeah, they still have a landline. My dad picked up, furious, until I blurted out what happened, about the hooded figures, the bodies, everything. While I was on the phone, Jordan finally called. Dude, where are you? Angela and I got split off. I sent her toward the road.

Meet her there. I'm coming. Somehow, we all made it back to the road. Angela came crawling out of her hiding spot, shaking like a leaf. She said she thought I was dead. Jordan and Tyler showed up a few minutes later, and Abigail was with them, hysterical but alive. We all hugged like we just survived a plane crash. But I didn't let us celebrate for long.

Guys, I said, that's cute and all, but we need to get the hell out of here. And that's exactly what we did. All right, I'll give him credit for at least. stressing for the occasion, but honestly, I'm just glad I woke up in time. It's wild how a simple dream can end up saving your life. I didn't fully appreciate that until March of this year, when I ended up in the scariest situation I've ever lived through, hands down. It started out like the kind of dumb adventure young adults plan when they're bored and want to feel brave. My friends and I decided to hit up this abandoned campsite out in the eastern Oklahoma countryside.

I'd been there once before, the year prior. Supposedly, the place was haunted. Now, don't get excited. This isn't some ghost story. I didn't see any spirits floating around or hear kids whispering in the dark. But the haunted rumor is the only reason we wanted to check it out again. And yeah, it sounded fun, until it wasn't. There were five of us that night, Tyler, Jordan, Abigail, Angela.

and me. Our brilliant plan to enhance the experience involved bringing alcohol and weed because, of course, nothing screams, good idea, like mixing intoxicants with wandering around abandoned property in the middle of nowhere. We packed two bottles of Henry and nine pre-rolled joints, like a bunch of geniuses. We rolled up around 11.30 p.m., and it was already pitch black. Flashlights in hand, gloves on for rummaging through whatever old junk we found. we set off to explore. Not even 15 minutes in, Angela and Abigail started whining that it was boring and wanted to head back. Meanwhile, Tyler, Jordan, and I had hyped ourselves up all week for this. We weren't about to leave because someone got spooked by a raccoon or because the vibe was

meh. So we pulled the ultimate persuasion tactic. We cracked open one of the Henry bottles. I don't even like the taste of alcohol. I think it tastes like liquid regret, but I decided to I decided I'd be drinking that night. And because I make fantastic life choices, I lit up a joint too. Here's the thing about me, I can handle one or the other, drunk or high, but both at the same time. My brain goes full conspiracy mode. Every shadow looks like it wants to kill me. And we were two miles deep into the woods.

No lights. No cell service. No reason for anyone to come save us if something went wrong. Surprise, surprise, paranoia hit me like a freight train. First, I started hearing footsteps crunching leaves behind us. I tried to brush it off, but after the third or fourth time, I spun around and yelled, Hey, who's there, terrible move. Abigail and Angela both jumped like they'd been shot.

Tyler just stared at me like I'd lost my mind. Dude, what are you even on about, he asked. Look, I know I'm a little messed up right now, but I swear something's following us. He just shook his head. It's probably an animal, dumbass. How stoned are you? I tried to believe him, but that didn't calm me down. I've never seen a black bear in real life, but I was 90% sure Oklahoma had them.

And drunk, Jaime wasn't feeling like the apex predator in that forest. Eventually, we reached the old campsite. We plopped down at a busted wooden table, wheezing and sweating from walking five miles through pitch darkness. It was around 2.50 a.m. by then, and of course, we decided that was the perfect time to start the party. Silent. Watching. I didn't even finish peeing. I zipped up and ran like hell back to the group, yelling, guys. We need to leave now. We are not alone out here. At first, they thought I was joking, but when they saw me sprinting like my life depended on it, they got the message. We all bolted.

And that's when the footsteps came, from behind us, beside us, everywhere. In that moment, I genuinely thought, this is it. We're going to die out here, and nobody will even know what happened. We were running blind. Angela tripped hard, face planted into the dirt. Nobody else noticed, but I couldn't leave her there. I hauled her up, heart pounding out of my chest. By then, the others had vanished into the darkness.

Moonlight barely lit the path. I didn't dare turn on my flashlight, it felt like an invitation. Angela was sobbing, gasping that she didn't want to die. I was trying to hold it together, even as my own panic attack clawed at me. Then, through the trees, we spotted what looked like an old shed. I dragged her toward it. Inside, maybe we could hide and call the others. When we slipped inside, the footsteps stopped.

My heart eased for a half second, until my nose caught the smell. Rot. It was so strong it punched me in the face. Angela puked immediately. I gagged hard, every sip of Henry threatening to come back up. I tried calling Tyler and Jordan. Straight to voicemail. Angela's phone was dead. I didn't even have Abigail's number. I didn't want to look. Every horror

movie told me not to look. But some twisted curiosity pushed me deeper into the cabin. Three rooms and a hallway. The first two. Empty. The third. I'll never unsee it. A human head. Just, sitting on the floor. eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Two tors leaned against the wall like discarded mannequins. And there was something else there, something worse, that I can't even put into words without feeling like I'll never sleep again. I staggered back, while rising. My brain was screaming, we're next. Get out. Get out now. I grabbed Angela and whispered, if you want to live, we run. No looking back. We had to make a split-second plan.

I'd run in the opposite direction of the road, drawing them away, while she booked it toward safety. Eventually, I'd double back. I bolted first, yelling to get their attention. My lungs burned, adrenaline turning my legs into rockets. I dove behind a tree, covered myself with leaves and branches, and stayed dead still, praying. Something crawled down my leg, probably a spider. My childhood arachnophobia wanted me to scream, but I clenched my teeth and didn't move. Footsteps thundered past.

Then, silence. Fifteen minutes later, I risked moving. Checked my phone. 2.17 a.m. I called my parents. No answer. Tried the house phone. My dad picked up, groggy and pissed.

Dad, I gasped. There are dead bodies out here. My friends are scattered. Someone's chasing us. He cursed, told me to call 911, and stayed on the line until my friend Jordan finally called back. I hung up on my dad and answered. Dude, where the hell are you? I sent Angela toward the road.

Check for her there. I'm coming now. By some miracle, I made it to the road first. Angela crawled out of a ditch, shaking like a leaf. She thought I'd died. We hugged, sent our location to the others, and five minutes later, the rest of the crew appeared. Everyone was alive. We didn't wait.

We piled into the car and tore out of there, tires spitting gravel. Nobody talked for ten minutes. When we finally hit town, we called the cops. They went out there later and, according to the follow-up we got, didn't find anything. No bodies. No hooded figures. Just a collapsed cabin and some trash. The cops suggested we've been drunk and high-end, imagine things.

But all five of us know what we saw. I haven't gone camping since. And sometimes, late at night, when the wind hisses through the trees outside my window, I swear I can hear footsteps crunching leaves the END.