Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Witchcraft, Hauntings and Halloween Real Stories from the Darkest Corners of Life PART2 #71

Episode Date: September 26, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #witchcrafthorrors #hauntedhouses #halloweennights #paranormalactivity #darkencounters  "Witchcraft, Hauntings and Halloween: Real Stories from the Darkest Corners of Life – PART 2" continues the eerie journey through chilling real-life accounts of witchcraft rituals, haunted locations, and paranormal disturbances tied to Halloween. These true stories expose the frightening, supernatural side of the season, where darkness and dread reign supreme.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, witchcrafttales, hauntingstories, halloweenhorrors, paranormalencounters, darkrituals, eerieexperiences, spookytrueevents, chillingaccounts, hauntedplaces, shadowyfigures, nightterrors, sinisterevents, supernaturalfear, realparanormal

As soon as they were gone, I shut the door and dropped into my desk chair, feeling like someone had just pulled the floor out from under me. What kind of company was this? How in the hell did they find me, know where I worked, and managed to send two guys to confront me in under 24 hours? It was like something out of a spy thriller, only this was real, and I was the poor bastard living it. I looked down at the USB stick in my bag but didn't touch it.

It felt radioactive somehow, like just a lot of. having it near me was a curse. I couldn't shake the feeling that this thing was bigger than I could ever handle, but maybe that little piece of data was going to matter in a way I couldn't understand yet. I finished out my workday in a days and drove home. It was Saturday the next day, which meant yard work. Specifically, mowing. If you've never owned a few acres, you might ask why mowing would take all day. Let me tell you, maintaining land is no joke. Luckily, Finally, Fay and I had two tractors so we could tackle the property together. But here's the thing, I'm obsessive about maintenance.

Like borderline OCD. Every time we mow, I clean the tractor decks, sharpen the blades, check the oil and fuel, go over the engines, everything. I'm thorough to a fault. Usually, Fay and I used the same tractors every time. But that morning, she said hers was pulling to the left. So I told her to take mine and I'd check hers out later. She hopped on mine, gave me a smile, and started mowing the back field.

Fifteen minutes in, I noticed the engine begin to sputter and cough. I waved for her to stop. She turned off the tractor and started walking toward me. Then everything exploded. I mean that literally. Her tractor, my tractor, erupted behind her in a goddamn fireball. Metal, rubber, everything blasted outward in a fiery cloud. The shockwave slammed Faye face-first into the ground, and the heat wave that followed scorched my

face like I'd stuck my head in a bonfire. I sprinted to her, my heart hammering in my chest, convinced she was dead. But by some miracle, she was okay, wind knocked out of her, but breathing. I dragged her into the garage and told her to call 911, then ran back outside with a fire extinguisher. I emptied the whole thing, but the blaze refused to die. The next few hours were chaos. Fire trucks, cops, neighbors staring. We were both grilled with the same questions over and over.

Did we suspect foul play? Had anyone threatened us? I wanted to tell them everything, the email, the suits, but I didn't. What the hell would I even say? Hey, officer, I got an email about weaponized Ebola, and now mysterious men are visiting me and my lawn equipment is blowing up. Yeah, sure. That'd go over real well. When it was all over, we were exhausted.

Starving too. We packed up the puppy and went to Fay's parents' place. Her dad grilled burgers while lecturing me on taking care of my equipment. But I did take care of it. I always did. Later, we returned home. The field was marked by a big, black scorch mark and charred grass where the tractor used to be. Everything else.

Totally quiet. It was like the apocalypse had skipped town. Faye went straight to bed. I couldn't sleep. My mind kept racing through every detail of that damn tractor, trying to figure out what went wrong. I knew I hadn't screwed up. I knew it. With paranoia setting in, I decided to check on the other things I'm obsessive about, my guns.

Yeah, I'm a gun owner. Grew up around them. They're just tools, no more dangerous than a chainsaw if handled properly. We kept a shotgun in the living room, a handgun hidden under the kitchen cupboards, and a revolver on phase nightstand. I also had a lever action, mare's leg, tucked away behind canned goods in the basement pantry. Every Sunday, like clockwork, I cleaned them all. They were always ready. But not that night.

I went from gun to gun and found something that made my blood run cold, the firing pins were missing. Every single one, gone. Except the mare's leg. That one was untouched. It still worked. Dust patterns confirmed it hadn't been moved. Someone had come into my house. They didn't take anything.

They didn't make a mess. They just disabled every firearm except the one hidden in the basement. I sat in the living room in the dark, trying not to wake Faye as I had what can only be described as a full-on mental breakdown. Within 24 hours, I learned a company was making Ebola into a weapon. I got visited by two mystery suits. My tractor exploded. Someone sabotaged my guns. What the actual hell was going on.

My thoughts went to Fay. Was she the target? Or was it me? The explosion happened while she was on the tractor I usually used. Had I been the intended victim? Then I remembered the maroon sedan. It had slowed as it passed our house right before the explosion. Just a coincidence.

My gut said no. I made a note on the fridge, buy more ammo. Gun Shop Visit Over the next few weeks, I started seeing the same three vehicles, the maroon sedan, a black Honda, and a dark blue motorcycle. They weren't always right behind me, but they were there, hovering at the edge of my life. When I took the puppy outside, one of them would cruise by. At the movies, one of them would park a few spaces from us. Family gatherings, birthdays, nursing home visits, they always showed up.

And then the accidents began. Our heater stopped working, and the repairman said we were lucky, carbon monoxide buildup could have killed us. The garage door spring snapped and nearly crushed the puppy. My car's power brakes failed on the highway. I had to coast until I could safely stop using the emergency brake. Coincidence. Or was someone trying to send a message? Or worse, trying to kill me without drawing attention.

After three weeks of this madness, I got out of bed one night and checked all the guns again. Still intact. I sat in the dark, thinking. Deleading the file wouldn't help. If they knew I had it, they wouldn't know if I deleted it, and it was my only leverage. She'd been on the tractor meant for me. That much was obvious. The accidents, the cars, everything, it all started after those two suits showed up.

I hadn't seen them again, but the vehicles were ever present. I wanted to grab my guns and start hunting, but this wasn't a movie. I wasn't John Wick. There would be no clean shootouts or satisfying revenge. Just real bullets, real prison time, and real innocent people in the crossfire. Would the police believe me? Could this company fake evidence against me? Probably.

If they found me in 24 hours, what else could they do? I thought about telling Fay. I loved her. Trusted her. But I couldn't bring her into this. I know it sounds sexist or outdated, but it wasn't about that. Faye was smart, smarter than me in a lot of ways. But I'd been raised to protect my family.

And protecting her meant keeping her in the dark. As long as she didn't know, she couldn't be targeted directly. If they were cleaning up a leak, she'd just be a, a possible collateral, tragic but avoidable. That wasn't acceptable. I had to find a way to ensure her safety. And there was only one path left, I had to disappear. Vanishing isn't easy. People think you just stop going to work and vanish into the woods. Nope. If you do that, you'll be found in a week. Maybe too. I wasn't just trying to survive, I was trying to buy time. If I was gone, they might stop.

If I was no longer a risk, maybe Faye could live a normal life again. So I started planning. Really planning. I'm not going to give a full guide on how to disappear, if you're curious, there are plenty of sketchy resources online. But I will say I was thorough. I passed out business cards and small amounts of cash to friends who traveled overseas, told them to send postcards from random places addressed to me. Planted fake clues.

Made it look like I was on the run internationally. Everything had to be deliberate. If I slipped up, they'd find me. And I couldn't let them do that. I didn't ask Faye to come. I wouldn't. I couldn't risk dragging her deeper into this. Losing her broke me, but at least she'd be safe.

So yeah. I vanished. And I've been running ever since. To be continued.