10 Disturbing TRUE Horror Stories

Prepare yourself for TEN truly disturbing real-life horror stories that will leave you unsettled long after the episode ends.

From road trips that take a terrifying turn to imaginary friends who might not be so imaginary after all, these tales will make you question reality itself. Encounter relentless stalkers whose obsessions spiral into terror, corrupt cops who prove that danger sometimes wears a badge, and eerie encounters that defy explanation.

Whether it's a stranger lurking in the dark, an unseen force watching from the shadows, or a situation that escalates into pure nightmare fuel, these stories prove that sometimes, real life is the scariest horror of all.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:04):
One of the first jobs I had was as an
after hour's janitor at Come and Go. Most of the time,
my shifts lasted from around nine p m. To six
a m. When the manager arrived in the morning. Usually
I'd be scheduled to work with one or two other people,
but it varied, and if anyone ended up calling in sick,

(00:25):
I could easily find myself working alone. For the most part,
I liked the quiet. I could get a few hours
of studying or watching movies in when no one else
was around. My friends asked me all the time how
I didn't get creeped out working there so late by myself,
and honestly, I'm not sure. The one area of the

(00:49):
gas station that I did find creepy, though, was the warehouse,
which was really just the unfinished basement below the store.
It was a bit larger than the layout of the station.
Sometimes I'd have to run down there for something, usually
the soap we used to clean the floors, but that
was pretty rare, as we kept a small stock upstairs

(01:11):
to pull from. One night, I was there alone and
I had used all the floor cleaner and had to
go down to the warehouse. The place was barely lit
up even with all the lights on. It was around
two in the morning, so I had quite a bit
more of the shift to go. Just as I stopped

(01:31):
and reached for the soap, I heard the sound of
footsteps somewhere else in the basement. I knew I was
the only one there and nearly pissed myself. Instead, I
grabbed the soap and then took a quick look around
all of the warehouse shelves, but there was no one there.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I practically

(01:53):
jumped out of my skin. There was a man waiting there,
probably mid twenties, just daring down into the basement. I
said something along the lines of Jesus, can I help you?
And he said his name was Josh. It was his
first night on the schedule, filling in for one of
my coworkers who skipped her shift. Apparently the manager had

(02:18):
just told him to come find me and follow me
around as I did the job, which was on brand
for the boss. After shaking off the shock and surprise
from the man's sudden appearance, I gave him a quick tour,
showing him where we kept the soap downstairs and where
the break room was. He mentioned the manager by name,

(02:39):
and he had some of the basics under his belt
already from talking with him earlier. But the longer we
worked together, the weirder this man made me feel. He
just kept staring at me, like barely blinking, watching my
every move, and every once in a while he'd make
some creepy comment under his breath, nothing too crazy, just

(03:04):
off enough for me to notice. We didn't really have
much to do, so he skipped taking a break and
left his shift early, around five in the morning. That
was my idea. I was happy to have the last
hour to myself, especially with how weird the dude had been.

(03:24):
My manager showed up shortly after six a m. And
after saying hello, I asked him why he didn't tell
me in advance about Josh. The manager was confused. Josh,
I repeated, the new guy. His response made the hairs
on my neck stand straight up. What new guy? He asked,

(03:46):
We don't have any new guys. I tried to laugh,
but couldn't. He started last night, I said, he shadowed
me the whole shift. My manager shook his head and grimaced.
You were the only person scheduled last night, he said.

(04:06):
There shouldn't have been anyone else here with you. We
called the police and pulled the shitty camera footage, but
as far as I know, it never went anywhere. My
manager reluctantly gave me a week off to get over it,
but I never ended up going back. I'll never know
what the guy's intentions were, where he came from, or

(04:29):
why he was watching me so closely. Maybe I don't
want to know. I was stationed in Nebraska in the
late eighties. At the time, I hung out with my
roommate and another friend. My name is Tracy. My roommate's

(04:50):
name was also Tracy, and our third friend's name was Stacy.
When we were together, everyone always thought we were lying
and being the silly teenagers we were. We always found
it funny. One weekend, we decided to take a road
trip to Kansas City, Missouri. We were speeding down the highway,

(05:11):
laughing and singing at the top of our lungs. We
were happy and having the time of our lives. Stacy
was driving, and she had a bit of a lead foot.
She must have been going too fast because before long,
a state trooper pulled up behind us and turned on
his lights. Stacy immediately pulled over. By the time the

(05:31):
officer made it to her window, she already had her
license and registration in hand and the window down. The
officer looked at her and then looked at me and Tracy.
He then said, I want you to follow me. Don't
try to run off, for y'all, we're going to jail.
He then turned, walked back to his car and got

(05:52):
into it. Needless to say, the three of us were
puzzled and spoke amongst ourselves to wonder why he didn't
see simply take Stacy's ID and write her a ticket.
The officer pulled out slowly, and we dropped in behind
him and followed him down the road. He drove a
few miles, then exited the highway. He drove a little

(06:13):
ways and turned onto a dirt road that was surrounded
by tall stalks of corn. We all stopped speaking as
we became more alarmed. However, we were young and scared,
and since he was a police officer, we continued to
follow him. The officer drove for some time down this
dirt road and then pulled into an area that had

(06:36):
a big, beat up old barn. As he parked and
we stopped behind him, a group of men with shotguns
exited the barn. It wasn't until that point did we
realize we were in mortal danger and panic set in.
The officer walked back to our car and told Stacy
to get out and follow him to his car. As

(06:57):
she got outside, she looked at me and Trace with
sheer terror on her face. She followed him to his
car and he motioned for her to get into the
passenger's side. She did. Tracy and I were crying as
the armed men stood outside of the car looking at us.
We prayed that Stacy wasn't being hurt and somehow that

(07:18):
they would let us leave. After some time, Stacy bolted
out of the officer's car and ran back to our
car and jumped into the driver's seat. She was crying hysterically,
so of course Tracy and I began to cry harder.
The officer approached our car, this time going to Tracy's
window in the front passenger seat. He asked, is it

(07:41):
true y'all are in the Air Force, to which Tracy
replied yes, sir. The officer calmly said, get out of
here and go back to where y'all came from. I
better not see y'all again. Stacy turned on the car,
whipped it around, and sped back down the dirt road.

(08:01):
She somehow navigated back to the highway. As we drove
back toward the base, the silence was only broken by
an occasional sob from one of us. Stacy drove for
a while, and as soon as we crossed back over
into Nebraska, she pulled over on the side of the
highway and began to sob heavily. Tracy and I hugged
her and asked if she was hurt in any way.

(08:23):
She shook her head, no, she wasn't hurt. After she
calmed down enough, she told us what happened in the
police car. After she got into the vehicle, she offered
the police officer her ID and told him she was
sorry for speeding. He took her information and then asked her,
what are you doing with those two Stacy was white.

(08:46):
She explained that we were on a road trip. He
then told her that if she would do certain favors
for him, he might let us go with a warning.
At that Stacy had a complete meltdown. I guess while
he was waiting for her to calm down, he finally
looked at her id and saw that she had given
him a military ID. He asked her if we were

(09:08):
all in the military, and between sobs, she said we were.
He asked where we were stationed, and she told him,
and he said to go back to her car. After
Stacy told us what had occurred, I think it hit
all three of us at the same time that the
only thing that saved us was that we were in

(09:28):
the military and stationed at a nearby base. We hugged
each other and cried until we could not cry any more.
We didn't report what had happened. Again, we were teenagers
and didn't think we would be believed over a law
enforcement officer, and we never talked about it after that day.

(09:50):
That incident has haunted me for years, all of the
what ifs, But as I have gotten older, what haunts
me most is the thought that others may not been
as lucky as we were. This happened about thirteen years
ago when I was a sophomore in college attending a
liberal arts school in New York. Within the first month

(10:13):
or two of freshman year, I had found myself in
a very tight knit group of fellow theater geeks. Six
guys myself included and one girl, and they all loved
horror movies and ghost stories. I had found my crew.
Freshman year was tough, but we all held each other
up and made the whole experience more enjoyable for one another.

(10:35):
At the beginning of sophomore year, we decided that in October,
as the Halloween season was ramping up, we would drive
out to a creepy wooded spot in a nearby town
for camping some night and scare the crap out of ourselves.
We did some research and found that there was a
particularly isolated area about thirty minutes away infamous for paranormal sightings. Perfect,

(10:59):
the seven of us split into two different cars and
headed out into the night. Allow me to set the scene.
You turn off a busy main road flooded with strip
malls and restaurants and what not, and you are almost
immediately greeted by complete darkness. Again, this area was very
heavily wooded. It was essentially a large web of winding

(11:21):
roads surrounded by trees, very few street lights, and very
few houses. Without a GPS or a good sense of direction,
one could easily get lost in there. We all made
sure to have fully charged phones and flashlights just in case,
but the goal was to keep driving until we collectively
decided to pull over and go exploring. So, following the directions,

(11:45):
we made a left off the main road, driving for
thirty minutes or so into this dark network, picking directions
at random, just getting intentionally lost. Our cars made a
turn and to our surprise, there was a huge log
in front of us. We had reached a dead end
of some kind with nothing but trees beyond it. We
all got out to see what exactly it was. Stepping

(12:08):
over the log and noticed two narrow trails leading in
separate directions. This seemed like as good a time as
any to grab our flashlights and do some amateur ghost hunting.
We flipped a coin and set off on the trail
to the right. The trail was so narrow that we
had to walk single file to avoid getting whacked by branches.

(12:29):
For whatever reason, I ended up in the back. I'm
usually pretty rational and level headed, but I have to
say the further we went in, the more I was
overcome with an uneasy feeling. I kept hearing sounds deep
in the woods, unable to shake the feeling we were
being watched, but I seemed to be the only one

(12:50):
who heard these things, so I shrugged it off as
my imagination, and in any case, the whole point of
us being there was to get scared, not to mention
the fact that we were seven able bodied college students.
What would we come across that could take us down.
We followed the trail for about twenty minutes, and just

(13:10):
when I thought it would never end, we came to
a massive clearing, and I mean massive. It was a
large open field of unkempt grass, comparable in scope to
a golf course, but not nearly as well. Manicured trees
surrounded the entire field, which was so large we could
not see the end of it from where we were standing.

(13:31):
I was thrilled to get out of that narrow trail,
but I don't think any of us were expecting to
find an area so vast. One of my friends pointed
to the right, where there was an old, dilapidated house
several hundred yards away. It was completely dark, with no
cars or signs of anyone actually living there. We walked

(13:53):
over and shined our flashlights at it, and sure enough,
the windows and doors were all boarded up. I peered
between the boards on one of the windows, and what
I could see was an old white couch covered in plastic,
but an otherwise empty room. Whoever used to live there
was long gone. Because there was no way in, and

(14:14):
because we all felt sufficiently creeped out by the house anyway,
we decided to walk closer to the trail where we
had come from, have a seat in the field, and
figure out what to do next. We walked towards that
narrow trail, but before we could sit, my friend Mark
stopped what he was doing. His expression dropped, and he pointed.

(14:34):
We all turned, and on a very far side of
the field, directly across from where we had come, we
could see someone tall, lanky and pale dancing among the trees.
And by dancing, I mean skipping around, grabbing a tree,
swinging around it, and then doing the same to another tree,
like a dosey dough. The moon was so bright and

(14:57):
the woods so dark it actually took a second for
us to really understand what we were looking at. Jay,
the six four skeptic of the group, wasn't seeing it.
I leaned into him, pointed in that direction and said, Jay,
look where I'm pointing. Don't you see that? He squinted
a bit, and the second he saw it, he gasped

(15:17):
with everything he had, clutched my arm and whispered, what
the hell is that? What happened next sent shockwaves through
all of us. Whoever it was. They stopped dancing, looked
in our direction, and started charging straight at us without
even thinking. We freaked and ran back to the trail.

(15:41):
While the walk into the woods took about twenty minutes,
we made it back to our cars, hopped in and
were peeling away and closer to five. Once we were
a safe distance away, we pulled over, got out, and
checked in with each other about what had just happened.
My heart was pounding, and I know everyone else was
feeling the same way. Nearly fifteen years later, we are

(16:02):
all still friends, living in different states, but keeping in
touch through marriages, divorces, children, et cetera. But occasionally, out
of the blue, one of us will send a group
text to the others with something to the effect of
the woods that really happened, right, and it most certainly did.

(16:23):
That experience is always in the back of my mind,
and I'm pretty sure it always will be. Here's the
thing that still resonates with me about that night. Whoever
that was, they were dancing maniacally in the woods at
one in the morning, and then ran directly for a
group of young adults, not at all phased by the

(16:45):
fact that they were severely outnumbered. Did he know we
were there from the second we parked? Was he the
sound that I kept hearing when we walked the trail,
Whatever the case may be, when he came for us
that night, you can be sure none of us wanted
to stick around and see what he was truly capable of.

(17:13):
Usually find myself in situations like this, but that night
was different. I was driving through the middle of a
national forest and it was almost two a m. I
am not sure what possessed me to take such a
desolate route so late, but there I was, miles from civilization,
with my gas gage dangerously close to empty. There had

(17:37):
been a sign a few miles back that said no
gas for forty five miles. It had been the kind
of ominous warning you see in horror movies right before
something bad happens. But my options were obviously limited. I
could either push through on fumes and hope for the best,
or stop at the gas station it was advertising normally

(18:01):
I'd never consider stopping so late, especially in the middle
of nowhere, but the thought of being stranded out there
was even worse. My nerves were already on edge as
I rounded the bend, and I couldn't help but feel
a strange mix of relief and apprehension. When I saw
the small gas station come into view, I was surprised

(18:24):
it was even open at that hour. The station had
one of those flickering neon signs that barely illuminated the
words twenty four hours self serve. The place was practically
swallowed by the surrounding forest, with trees pressing in on
all sides, their shadows stretching across the cracked pavement. It

(18:46):
sort of felt like stepping into another time. What really
caught my attention, though, was the old man in dirty
coveralls working on one of the pumps. He looked out
of place, even for a run down gas station in
the middle of nowhere. His clothes were covered in oil
and grime, and he was hunched over focus on something

(19:09):
near the base of the pump. I couldn't tell what
he was doing, but he didn't seem to notice my
car pulling up. I parsed near one of the pumps
and got out, the cold night air hitting me like
a slap. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves
in the breeze and the hum of the station's lights.
I tried to pay at the pump, but my card

(19:31):
wouldn't go through. The machine just beaped at me, refusing
to authorize the transaction. I figured it was probably old
equipment and that i'd have to try another pump. As
I moved to the next one, I glanced over at
the old man. He hadn't looked up once, just kept
working on whatever he was doing. Something about the way

(19:53):
he ignored me felt off. I'm not the kind of
person who likes to bother other people, but I knew
gas and he seemed like the only person around who
could help. I called out to him, asking if he
knew what was wrong with the pump. He didn't respond.
It was like I wasn't even there. He just kept

(20:14):
his head down, twisting away at something with a wrench
with his back to me. Excuse me, I called again,
louder this time, but still nothing. He just kept working,
the metallic clink of his tools echoing in the stillness.
A chill ran down my spine, but I tried to
brush it off. Maybe he was hard of hearing, or

(20:37):
maybe he was just one of those grumpy old guys
who didn't like to be bothered. Either way, I needed gas.
The second pump wouldn't take my card either, so, feeling frustrated,
I decided to go inside the small store attached to
the station. The lights inside were on, and through the
smudged windows, I could see a cluttered counter with a

(20:58):
few scattered items, a couple of candy bars, some cigarettes,
and a register that looked older than I was. It
felt strange going in there, like I was intruding into
a place that I didn't belong. The bell above the
door jingled as I stepped inside, but there was no
one at the counter. The place smelled like stale coffee

(21:20):
and dust, and everything was coated with a thin layer
of neglect. I noticed a small TV in the corner,
its screen filled with static, and an ancient looking radio
playing some crackly old tune. The whole scene was surreal.
Then I saw him, the old man behind the counter,

(21:42):
slumped over and sound asleep. His head was resting on
his arm and he was snoring softly, completely oblivious to
my presence. I felt bad about waking him, but I
was getting desperate to get back on the road. I
cleared my throat and knocked gently on the counter. He
jolted awake with a start, letting out a small yelp

(22:03):
of terror. His eyes were wide with confusion, and for
a moment he just stared at me like I was
some kind of ghost. Then, remembering where he was, he
chuckled nervously, rubbing his eyes. Sorry about that, he muttered,
his voice gravelly with sleep. Must have dozed off. It's
been a quiet night. I couldn't help but laugh a

(22:26):
little too. It felt good to break the tension. No worries,
I said, trying to keep my voice light. I just
need some guess the pumps outside won't take my card.
He nodded, still shaking off remnants of sleep. Yeah, those
pumps are old sometimes they act up. Cash works better
if you've got it. I took out a twenty dollar

(22:48):
bill from my purse and handed it to him. Can
you please put this on pump too? He took the
money and punched a few buttons into the register. As
he did, I mentioned the man outside, the one working
on the pump. I tried asking the guy outside for help,
but he didn't seem to hear me. I said, is
he fixing something? The man behind the counter stopped what

(23:11):
he was doing, his brow furrowing in confusion. What guy,
The old man in coveralls, I said, feeling a bit uneasy.
He was working on one of the pumps when I
pulled up. The attendant looked at me like I'd said
something crazy. There's no one out there, he said, slowly.
We don't have any maintenance scheduled, and the company sure

(23:33):
as hell wouldn't send someone out at this time. His
words sent a shiver down my spine. But I saw him.
I insisted he was right there. He wouldn't say anything,
but he was definitely working on the pump. The attendant
shook his head. You must have been seeing things. It's late,

(23:53):
and this place can play tricks on you if you're
not careful. I didn't know what to say. The whole
situation felt off, but I didn't want to push it.
I just wanted to fill up my tank and get
the hell out of there. Yeah, maybe, I said, trying
to sound casual, even though my heart was pounding. Thanks

(24:14):
for the gas, I headed back outside, the bell jingling
behind me. As I left, the night air was colder
than before. I walked back to my car, shivering and
glancing around the lot. The old man was nowhere to
be found, just like the attendant had said, But there
was something else where the man had been working. There

(24:36):
was a mess of gas spilled along the pavement, the
pungent smell of fuel filling the air. It looked like
someone had yanked the nozzle out of the pump in
a hurry, letting it gush on to the ground. A
trail of fresh oil led from the puddle of gas
straight into the dark woods beyond the station, a thick
black line that seemed to disappear into the trees. My

(25:00):
heart raced as I stood there staring at that trail.
But there was one more thing, something that made my
blood run cold. Just near the edge of the woods.
Lying in the grass was an old, rusty wrench, the
same kind of wrench the man had been using when
I saw him. It was covered in a dark, sticky substance,

(25:23):
but I could tell from where I stood that it
wasn't oil. It was blood. I backed away slowly, my
instinct screaming at me to get out of there. My
hands shook as I grabbed the nozzle and started filling
up my tank, my eyes darting back and forth between
the woods and the station. I felt like something was
watching me, waiting for me to let my guard down.

(25:47):
Every second felt like an eternity. But finally the pump
clicked off and I hastily shoved the nozzle back into place.
I jumped into my car, locking the doors as fast
as I could. My hands were shaking so badly that
it took me three tries to get the keys into
the ignition. Finally, the engine roared to life, and I

(26:08):
floored the gas pedal, not caring about speed limits or
the curves of the road. I just wanted to get
as far away from that place as possible. As I drove,
I kept checking my rear view nearer half expecting to
see someone or something following me, but there was nothing,
just the empty road and the darkness pressing in from

(26:29):
all sides. Eventually the forest thinned out and I reached
the edge of the woods. The tension in my chest
began to ease, but the fear lingered, gnawing at the
back of my mind. I didn't stop driving until I
reached the next town, where I pulled into a well
lit parking lot and finally allowed myself to breathe. I

(26:51):
sat there for a long time, replaying everything that had happened.
I couldn't explain what I'd seen, but I knew one
thing for sure. I wasn't imagining it. That gas station,
that man, whatever it all had been, it was real.
I never took that route again, no matter how much

(27:12):
time it might save, and to this day, I can't
pass a gas station late at night without feeling a
shiver of unease, wondering if I might see that old
man in the coveralls again, working on a pump that's
long since stopped working in a place where no one
should be. I love road trips. There's nothing like the

(27:40):
freedom of exploring the world by yourself. I was on
an assignment for the Army, making my way up from
San Antonio, Texas to Tacoma, Washington. It was a long
drive and they gave me six days to report to
my new unit. The first day of my journey, I
planned to get as much driving is possible so I

(28:01):
could spend a few days in Utah, a sort of
mini vacation. You could say. This was January and The
days were short, so maximizing the amount of daylight I
had was crucial. I got up extra early that morning,
carried the last of my bags out to my Corolla,
signed out of my old unit, and hit the road
at roughly five a m. It was an amazing day.

(28:24):
I saw the landscape transform around me as I headed
farther west than I had ever been in my life,
from the San Antonio metropolitan area to the savannahs of
the Edwards Plateau, to the pancake flat farmland of the
Great Plains region, America's bread basket. Finally, the farms opened
up into prairie, and I saw the welcome to New Mexico,

(28:47):
the Land of Enchantment sign. Now I was really in
the middle of nowhere. Continuing on US Route three eighty,
I eventually found myself in Roswell. I could I've gotten
a few more hours of driving in to make it
to Albuquerque, but I figured, since I was in no rush,
I might as well see what Roswell had to offer.

(29:09):
Who knows if I would get a chance to visit again.
As a fan of the strange, dark and mysterious, I
took a self guided tour of the shops and attractions.
The next day, I continued to Albuquerque, then westward on
Interstate forty. By the time I reached Gallup and started
northbound on US Route four ninety one, I still had

(29:30):
two hours of driving left before crossing into Colorado, and
another forty five minutes before I would get to Cortes,
where I planned to stop for the night. However, the
daylight was already running out as sunset was at six PM.
I got a coffee and refreshed myself for the final stretch.
It was supposed to be easy, just a straight shot,

(29:52):
But looking back now, I figured that had I decided
to stop in Albuquerque instead of Roswell the previous night,
I would I have already been in Colorado by now,
possibly making my way into Utah. I could have saved
myself from what was waiting for me On that desolate highway,
Route four ninety one stretched far into the Navajo Nation.

(30:15):
On either side of me were endless expanses of prairie,
bookended by dark Indigo mountains. On the horizon to my left,
the sky glowed a faint orange purple, the light slowly
dying down like smoldering embers in a fire, until finally
plunging the land into darkness. Every now and then I

(30:37):
would see the forlorn headlights of another car passing by,
which gave me a bit of relief that I wasn't
completely alone. I also had my road trip playlist on
to keep me company and call me ironic, but Hotel
California was playing. After passing the small, lonely town of Newcombe,
the next piece of civilization would be ship Rock. However,

(30:59):
between the two was a thirty six mile stretch of
absolute nothingness, an abyss I would have to cross, and
I was not ready for what I was about to witness.
After several miles, and having not seen another car on
the road, I saw something strange emerge from the horizon,

(31:20):
barely lit by moonlight. I thought it was a road
sign at first, then as I came closer, I realized
it was a person walking on the shoulder of the
road in my direction. I squinted, trying my hardest to
focus on the figure. In the darkness, I could tell
they were wearing a poncho of some sort, with long

(31:41):
black hair flowing down past their chest. Who could be
walking out here all alone at night? I thought, Whoever
it was They had no lights, no reflectors, no strobes
of any kind to signal to passing cars that they
were there, and they walked on the pave mint dangerously
close to oncoming traffic. I pulled to the left a

(32:05):
bit to give them more room. Suddenly my stereo cut out,
as if I had turned it off. The screen went
completely dark, and my phone disconnected from bluetooth. While this
was unusual, it certainly did happen from time to time,
so I thought nothing of it. As I approached, I
saw the person raise their right arm as if to

(32:26):
flag me down and hitch a ride. Oh no, no, no, no, no,
I thought, there's no way that's happening, buddy. As my
headlights swept by, I realized it was a man dressed
in a button up shirt, a wool poncho, jeans, and
cowboy boots. His large belt buckle glinted as the lights
passed him. But in that split second, I realized with

(32:49):
abject shock that not only were his eyes painfully wide open,
but they seemed to be tracking me. Somehow, he was
able to see me through the glare of my headlights
and look me dead in the eyes, not breaking contact
until I had passed. I was shaken for a bit,
but my nerves gradually subsided. My stereo abruptly turned back on,

(33:15):
and my music continued playing. I looked in the rear
view mirror. He was gone. I couldn't see him. Maybe
he's too far behind me already, I thought, no, that
couldn't be. It must just be too dark. I drove on,
trying to figure out what had just happened, but at

(33:35):
the same time forcing myself not to think about it.
I brushed everything off as simply my imagination, the darkness
and the shadows playing tricks on my mind. Just when
I thought I had moved on, I saw another shape
in the distance, another person walking alone at night. There's
no way. They walked along the shoulder of the road,

(33:58):
swaying back and forth slowly. I could make out that
this person was also wearing a poncho. Then I saw
what looked like long black hair reaching down past the chest.
It was the same man, but how he raised his
arm again, trying to flag me down. I kept up

(34:18):
my pace with no intention of stopping for any reason,
and just like last time, my stereo turned off. Suddenly
the man leaped out onto the road, arms waving frantically,
I swerved into the left lane, narrowly avoiding him. In
my head lights, I noticed he had the same wide
eyed look, his gaze locked onto mine. I also saw

(34:40):
that his clothes did not look as they did the
first encounter. Once they were clean, if not well worn,
but now they were soiled and tattered, rags barely hanging
onto his withered frame. His hair was wild and unkempt,
with clods of dried dirt stuck in the locks, but
his eyes remained the same. My heart nearly burst through

(35:03):
my chest at the sudden shock. I perventilating. I slowed
down and glanced into the rear view mirror to make
sure he was all right. But nothing could have prepared
me for what I was about to see. The man
was running. He was sprinting towards me. I centered the
wheel and accelerated, hoping to get as much distance from

(35:24):
him as possible. But as I continued to speed up,
so did he. Faster and faster I drove, but every
time I looked in the mirror, I would still see
him right behind me, perfectly keeping pace, his body tinted
red by my tail lights. I could feel my temples throbbing,
and my hands getting slick with sweat on the steering wheel.

(35:46):
I was sick to my stomach. There's no way, I thought.
I looked forward, hoping to see a faint glimmer of
light from the town ahead, but I was still too
far away. I looked back in the rear view. The
man was gone. I should have been relieved, but I
knew better. I looked around, hoping to regain a visual

(36:08):
on him, but I couldn't see anything. I took a
deep breath and refocused on the road with my guards
still up. Just keep driving, I told myself. Only a
few more miles to go. Then out of the corner
of my right eye, I saw something another shape. It

(36:29):
looked like some kind of animal, though I couldn't make
out exactly what it was. Under the moonlight, I could
see it running alongside my car, its fore limbs reaching
out in long strides, its back undulating like a dog.
Closer and closer it came. The closer it was, the
more of it I could see, little by little, and

(36:52):
I noticed its limbs were far too long for its body.
It had no tail, The head was oddly round, and
from it came a trail of long black hair. I
slammed my foot on the gas, pushing my car's engine
harder than it had ever been pushed before. By now

(37:14):
I was clocking well over one hundred and ten miles
per hour. But this creature it kept up. It wasn't phased.
It simply ran faster and faster to match my speed.
Just what was this thing? How could anyone or anything
run this fast? Soon my car would hit the top speed,

(37:35):
and then what how long could it maintain that before
breaking down? It wouldn't be long before the engine overheats.
But regardless, I would eventually run out of gas. And
when I do, what would happen if that thing got me?
At one hundred and twenty miles per hour, my car
had reached its limit. This was the fastest I could go,

(37:57):
but the creature continued its pursuit. My temperature gage was
approaching the red and it wouldn't be long until the
engine overheated. Suddenly, like the beacon of a lighthouse on
a stormy sea, the first light of town came into view.
It was close. If I could just go a little longer,
I could make it to safety. I pressed on. I

(38:19):
fixed my eyes on the lights, growing brighter on the horizon,
they bloomed outwards, glimmering in the night air. Though it
was a small town, it was a sight for sore eyes.
Looking in my periphery, I saw the undulation of the
creature's spine as it kept pace with my car, But
now it was starting to slip away, steering farther and

(38:40):
farther from the road. It suddenly hit me just how
hard my heart was beating. Beads of sweat dripped down
my face, and finally the creature was gone. My stereo
once again turned back on, and as my music resumed,
I let off the accelerator, breathing a deep sigh of
relief that man, that creature, whatever it was, was finally

(39:07):
gone for good. Having white knuckled the steering wheel the
whole time without realizing it, my hands were extremely sore,
but I was glad to have made it through. A
week later, I told another soldier in my unit about
what I had experienced. Being originally from Albuquerque, she was
familiar with the Native American legends of the Southwest. The

(39:30):
conversation steered towards a certain creature that she would not
dare speak the name of. She also told me that
the highway I took was well known for all sorts
of paranormal phenomena. Up until two thousand and three, Route
four ninety one had been called US Route six sixty six,
the Devil's Highway. It all started when I, a broke

(40:06):
college student looking for some extra cash, agreed to house
sit over spring break. Seemed like an easy gig, just
chilling a fancy mansion for a week. Right wrong, dead wrong.
So this distant relative I barely knew existed hits me
up out of the blue with an offer I couldn't refuse.

(40:28):
They needed someone to watch over their empty mansion, the
Blackwood Manner, deep in the woods. The email was vague,
bordering on cryptic, but promised a fat paycheck in return. Naturally,
my broke self jumped at the opportunity. As I rolled
up to Blackwood Manner, I couldn't shake the sinking feeling

(40:49):
in my gut. The place looked straight out of a
horror movie, a creepy old mansion surrounded by nothing but
trees for miles. The driveway stretched on forever, and the
closer I got, the more the mansion seemed to loom
over me, like it was watching my every move. I

(41:09):
pushed open the creaky iron gates and stepped into the courtyard,
feeling like I just walked into a haunted house at
a theme park. The whole place was eerily quiet, with
not even the wind daring to rustle the leaves. I
hesitated a moment, wondering if it was too late to bail,
but the promise of cold, hard cash kept me moving forward.

(41:34):
Inside Blackwood, manner was straight up spooky. It was like
stepping back in time to the Victorian era, with dusty
old furniture covered in moth eaten sheets and creepy ass
portraits staring at me from every wall. I tried to
shake off the he beejeebees crawling up my spine, reminding

(41:55):
myself it was just an old house, but damn if
it didn't feel like it was a lot. The first
few days were pretty uneventful. I wandered around the mansion,
poking my nose into rooms that hadn't seen daylight in
god knows how long. But as the days dragged on,
things started getting weird. I'd hear footsteps echoing in empty

(42:19):
hallways when I knew for a fact I was alone,
doors would creak open, on their own, slamming shut behind
me with a force that made my heart skip a beat.
And then there were the whispers, soft, barely audible voices
that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

(42:45):
At first I brushed it off as my overactive imagination
playing tricks on me. But the longer I stayed in
that damn mansion, the harder it became to ignore the
feeling that something was seriously wrong. Then came the night
that changed everything. I was dead asleep when a blood
curdling scream ripped through the silence, jolting me awake so

(43:09):
fast I nearly fell out of bed. My heart was
pounding like a jackhammer as I stumbled into the hallway,
following the sound to its source, the locked door at
the end of a deserted corridor. My hands were shaking
as I fumbled for the key, unlocking the door with
a click that sounded deafening in the silence. I swung

(43:33):
the door open, revealing a staircase that led down into darkness.
Every fiber of my being screamed at me to turn back,
but something compelled me forward, deeper into the bowels of
the mansion. As I descended into the cellar, the air
grew colder, thicker, like I was wading through a pool

(43:53):
of ice. Cobwebs brushed against my face, and the stench
of decay filled my nostrils, making me gag. And then
I saw them, two glowing orbs, staring back at me
from the shadows. I froze, my blood turning to ice
as the orbs drew closer, revealing a twisted, nightmarish figure

(44:16):
that seemed to defy all logic and reason. It was
like something straight out of my nightmares, a creature from
the depths of hell itself. I wanted to run, to
scream for help, but my body was frozen in place,
paralyzed by fear. And then, with a sudden rush of movement,
the creature lunged at me, its claws outstretched, ready to

(44:38):
tear me apart. But just as suddenly as it appeared,
it vanished into thin air, leaving me alone in the darkness.
I stumbled back up the stairs, my mind reeling with
terror and confusion. What the hell had I just seen?
Was I losing my mind? Or was there something truly

(44:59):
evil lurking in the walls of Blackwood? Manner In the
days that followed, I was plagued by nightmares, visions of
unspeakable horrors that left me trembling and drenched in sweat.
I tried to convince myself it was all just a
trick of the mind, a product of spending too much

(45:20):
time alone in a creepy old mansion, But deep down
I knew the truth. Blackwood Manner was haunted and I
was its latest victim. I don't know what happened to
the mansion after that, and honestly I don't want to.
Some things are better left buried in the past. Blackwood

(45:41):
Manner is one of them. But even now, years later,
the memory still haunts me, reminding me that some nightmares
never really end. And as I sit here recounting my
tale for whoever will listen, I can't help but one
if Blackwood Manor is still standing, still, waiting for its

(46:04):
next victim to stumble into its dark embrace. When I
was a child, I had a friend named Lucy. She
was a neighborhood girl who would come over to my
grandmother's house, which was where I lived at the time.

(46:25):
There was a park by my house that had a
deep creek next to it. I couldn't swim, so we
always had to have an adult with us when we
were near the creek. Lucy was a toxic friend, but
I didn't know at the time. She would always threaten
to stop being friends with me or stop talking to
me if I didn't do what she wanted. She would
always say that she deserved my toys and my family

(46:48):
and friends more than I did. I didn't mind this,
as I had a hard time making friends and Lucy
was one of my only friends. One night, Lucy came
over and she said she was born and wanted to
go to the park. I told her my family was
in the backyard and we had to have an adult
with us to go, but she said she would leave
and never come back if I didn't go to the

(47:10):
park with her. I followed her and we went to
the park. She walked right past the playground equipment to
the creek and I asked her what she was doing.
She said she wanted to swim, and I told her
I couldn't swim, and she called me a string of
hurtful names, including weak, stupid, and an awful friend. This

(47:30):
really hurt my five year old self, so I started crying.
This made her even angrier. And she told me something
I'll never forget. You're an awful child. Your family deserved
me and not you. I was so confused and sad
that I just ran home. I never saw her again,

(47:51):
and I just thought she was so angry. She really
never spoke to me again. Now, about a year ago,
my family was talking about my men any imaginary friends,
and my mom said my friend Lucy really creeped her
out because she was supposed to have a daughter before me,
who they wanted to name Lucy. My mother had a
miscarriage and Lucy was never born. I remember it like

(48:22):
it was yesterday, even though it's been years since those
chilling nights. It started innocently enough, as many childhood tales
often do, with an imaginary friend. But this wasn't your
typical imaginary friend. This was something far more sinister, something
that still sends shivers down my spine when I think
about it. His name was Isaac, or at least that's

(48:46):
what I called him. I was around seven years old
when he first appeared. My parents had just moved us
into an old house on the outskirts of town, a
place with creaky floorboards and drafty corridors. I didn't have
any friends yet, so I suppose my young mind conjured
up Isaac as a companion. At first, Isaac seemed harmless enough.

(49:09):
He would appear in my room at night, a shadowy
figure lurking in the corners, whispering secrets only I could hear.
He told me stories of far away lands and adventures
beyond my wildest dreams. But as the nights went on,
Isaac's tales grew darker, his whispers turning into chilling murmurs

(49:29):
that seemed to seep into my very soul. I tried
to tell my parents about Isaac, but they dismissed him
as a figment of my imagination, just a phase I
would soon outgrow. But Isaac wasn't just a product of
childhood fantasy. He was something far more real and sinister

(49:50):
than they could ever imagine. As the weeks passed, Isaac's
presence became more oppressive, his whispers more insistent. He would
tell me things, horrible things that no child should ever hear.
He spoke of death and despair, and of things lurking
in the shadows, waiting to consume me whole. I began

(50:13):
to dread the night, knowing that when darkness fell, Isaac
would come. I would lie in bed, paralyzed with fear
as he whispered his dark secrets into the silence of
my room. And then one night he asked me to
do something unspeakable, something that would change everything. I won't

(50:35):
repeat what he asked of me, for even now the
memory fills me with dread. Suffice to say it was
something that no innocent child should ever be asked to do.
But in that moment of fear and confusion, I found
the strength to defy Isaac and banish him from my

(50:55):
life forever. It wasn't easy, and for a time I
feared he would never leave me alone. But eventually his
whispers faded into the darkness and I was left alone
once more. My parents never knew the truth of what
happened those nights, and I never spoke of Isaac again.

(51:17):
But sometimes late at night, when the house is quiet
and the shadows grow long, I can still feel his
presence lurking in the darkness, waiting and watching, biding his
time until he can return once more. And I pray
that he never can, for I fear that if he

(51:38):
ever does, I may not have the strength to resist
him again. Months passed without any sign of Isaac. I
convinced myself that it was all a childhood delusion, a
product of an overactive imagination trying to cope with the
loneliness of a new home. Yet as I grew older,

(52:02):
a nagging feeling persisted, a sense of unease that I
couldn't shake. It was during my thirteenth birthday that Isaac returned.
I had almost forgotten about him, buried his memory deep
within the recesses of my mind. But on that night,
as I blew out the candles on my cake, I

(52:25):
felt a chill run down my spine, the sensation of
being watched. I brushed it off as paranoia, blaming it
on the darkness and the flickering candlelight. But as I
climbed into bed that night, I knew something was wrong.
The air in my room felt heavy, oppressive, as if

(52:45):
a storm was brewing just beyond the horizon. And then
I heard it, a faint whisper, barely audible above the
sound of my own heart beat. Hallo, old friend, it said,
the voice, sending shivers down my spine. I froze, unable

(53:07):
to move as the whispers grew louder, filling the room
with their dark presence. Isaac was back, and he was
more powerful than ever. His whispers were no longer just words.
They were commands, urging me to do things I knew
I shouldn't. I tried to resist, to push him away,

(53:29):
but it was like trying to hold back the tide
with my bare hands. Night after night, Isaac's presence grew stronger,
his whispers more insistent. I couldn't escape him, couldn't find
solace in sleep or sanctuary in the light of day.
He was everywhere, a shadowy specter, haunting my every waking moment.

(53:54):
I became a shell of my former self, consumed by
fear and paranoia. I stopped going to school, stopped leaving
my room altogether. My parents grew concerned, but their words
fell on deaf ears. They couldn't see Isaac, they couldn't
hear his whispers echoing in the darkness. And then one

(54:17):
night everything changed. I woke to find myself standing in
the middle of my room with a knife clutched tightly
in my hand. Isaac stood before me, his eyes burning
with other worldly fire. Do it, he whispered, his voice,

(54:38):
cold and unyielding. Do it, and we can be together forever.
I wanted to resist, wanted to fight back against the
darkness that threatened to consume me, but it was too late.
With a trembling hand, I raised the knife and plunged

(55:00):
it into my chest. The pain searing threw me like
a white hot flame. As darkness closed in around me,
I heard Isaac's laughter echoing in my ears, a chilling
reminder of the horrors that lurked just beyond the edge
of reality. And as I slipped into unconsciousness, I knew

(55:24):
that I would never truly be free from his grasp,
that his whispers would haunt me for all eternity. Spring
Break had finally arrived, and my friends and I were
eager to escape the confines of our dorms and embark uninventure. Sarah, Jack, Emily, Mike,

(55:48):
and I had been planning our trip for months, and
we settled on a remote cabin deep in the woods
for our getaway. If only we had any idea what
we were actually in for. As we drove deeper into
the wilderness, excitement bubbled up within me. The towering trees
and winding roads seemed to whisper tales of hidden mysteries

(56:08):
and untold secrets. Sarah, our fearless leader, couldn't contain her enthusiasm,
sharing stories of past adventures and promising an unforgettable spring break.
After what felt like forever, we finally made it to
the cabin, which was deep in the woods, buried in trees.
The air was thick with anticipation as we unloaded our

(56:30):
belongings and settled in, but as night fell, we all
started to feel a bit uneasy. Jack was the first
to voice his concerns. He's pretty much always smiling, so
you know if he looks serious that something is wrong,
he said. He kept hearing strange noises outside the cabin,
rustling leaves and snapping twigs, and what sounded like footsteps

(56:53):
walking around his window. Sarah, who was known to be optimistic,
promised it must have just been some wildlife, like a
deer that was walking by. But as the night wore on,
we only got more uncomfortable. Emily, trying to calm us down,
suggested that we go for a walk and just go
outside and investigate ourselves. There has to be a logical

(57:16):
explanation for this, she said. So we all agreed reluctantly,
But as long as we all stayed together, what really
could happen? Right? We grabbed flashlights and ventured out into
the darkness, and the forest felt like a living creature itself.
Moments after we left the cabin, a piercing scream shattered

(57:37):
the quiet of the night, and we all froze in
our steps. It sounded like Sarah, but as we all
turned around, she was nowhere to be found. We'd only
taken a few steps out of the cabin, but Sarah
was gone. We went back inside, but the phone lines
were dead. Yes, this was all taking place at a

(57:58):
time long before everyone had an iPhone on their pocket.
We tried to talk things through overnight, and even went
back out in search of Sarah, but but we never
found her or any clue of where she could have gone.
Nobody slept a wink that night, and as soon as
the sun began to rise, we knew we needed to
head out to seek help. I think we were all trembling.

(58:23):
I know my heart was racing as we made the
long walk back to civilization. We ended up filing a
missing person's report for Sarah, but her disappearance was never solved.
There was not a single clue that told us where
she could have been. Some people from school whispered that

(58:44):
we must have done something to her, But we loved Sarah.
We would do anything to have her back. Jack became
more and more withdrawn, and Emily dove into her studies.
School became the only thing she would talk or think about.
Mike had descended into a spiral of paranoia, and he

(59:07):
was convinced that whatever had taken Sarah was coming for
the rest of us too. Eventually, one of us found
an old newspaper article dated several decades before that told
the story of a family that had disappeared without a
trace while living in the same remote cabin that we
had stayed. According to the article, the family had reported

(59:31):
strange occurrences in the weeks leading up to their disappearance,
unexplained noises, voices in the night, and a horrible feeling
of dread, like they were being watched or hunted. Despite
their best efforts to escape or find help, they seemed
to be consumed by the same malevolent force that had

(59:52):
come later for Sarah. I hope she's alive and that
she's okay, and I pray that I will never encounter
that horrible monster again. My aunt Kay was in her

(01:00:15):
early twenties in the nineteen eighties. This was before she
married my uncle, when she would drive long distances back
and forth between her parents and my uncles to visit.
It was a transitional period for them. He had just
graduated and she hadn't moved out yet to be with him.
It was a long drive across several states through the desert,

(01:00:36):
which took her hours. This desolate highway would have stretches
of road that lasted hundreds of miles where you quite
often wouldn't see another driver, let alone a gas station.
So Aunt Kay set out and began one of those journeys.
A couple hours into the drive, she noticed a dark
vehicle slowly catching up to her. She barely noticed as

(01:00:57):
she continued to sing along to the Lame Miss track
until the vehicle got aggressively close. She turned off the
music and looked into her rear view mirror, seeing the
vehicle flash its brights and a hand pointing at her
car and motioning for her to pull over. Alarmed, she
quickly slowed down and began to look for a good
place to pull off the road and see what must
be wrong with her car. The second she began to

(01:01:20):
pull off the road, she heard, as clear as day
a voice say don't pull over. Then again, don't pull over.
Whether it was a guardian angel or just a gut feeling,
A jolt of adrenaline and fear shot through her body.
As she hit the gas and peeled back out onto
the highway. Heart pumping, aunt Kay silently asked herself what

(01:01:41):
the hell was that As she saw the vehicle peel
out behind her. The dark vehicle continued to closely follow,
flashing their brights and motioning for her to pull over.
Fear and confusion overwhelmed her as Aunt Kay began to
question what was going on. Why was the driver motioning
for her to pull over? Was there something wrong with

(01:02:02):
her car? And what the hell was that warning? She
felt or heard. This was before cell phones and it
would have been a severe situation if her car broke
down out there, but she had no choice but to
press on. Just as her resolve wavered, the dark vehicle
picked up speed. It entered the oncoming traffic lane and
came level with my Aunt's car. The driver smiled, pointed, motioned,

(01:02:26):
and mouthed the words pull over to my aunt. She
said this second she looked into his eyes she felt
pure evil. She felt a horribly sick feeling in the
pit of her stomach, and again heard the words in
her head, don't call over. She described him as looking
scary and greasy with a smile that she'll never forget.

(01:02:49):
It sent chills through her. This quickly dispelled any thoughts
she had of pulling over, and she put the pedal
to the metal to try to lose him. He chased
after her. When she slowed down, he slowed down. If
she sped up, he did too. It got to the
point that he began to try to push her car
off the road. Aunt Kay was at the point of

(01:03:09):
tears as this creep continued to terrorize her out in
the middle of nowhere. Finally, after what felt like an eternity,
she saw a couple of semi trucks off in the distance.
She felt that if she could get closer to them,
or even between those trucks, she would be safe, so
she took off. He continued flashing his lights, honking his horn,

(01:03:30):
and trying to hit her car until she was close
enough to the trucks. As she got in between them,
she saw the dark vehicle slow way down, eventually disappearing
from view. She stayed with those trucks for a couple
hours until she felt safe enough to pull over at
a gas station and cry. Many years later, my aunt

(01:03:51):
and uncle are married. He's working at a law firm
as a high profile criminal prosecutor in Las Vegas. She's
now a full time mom of several young children. Since
I've known my aunt, she's been obsessed with true crime
Date Line twenty twenty Unsolved mysteries. They're always playing at
her house. This day was no different. She was folding

(01:04:13):
laundry in the kitchen while listening to the TV in
the other room. The interviewer was talking about a man
who was being interviewed on death Row. As she paired
another match of socks, she heard the man describe one
of his tactics for procuring victims. According to him, he
would wait along the side of the highway. When a

(01:04:33):
car would go by with a family, he'd wait. Another
car with a mail driver would go by, and he'd wait.
But every so often a car would go by with
a pretty young woman driving alone, so he'd pull out
and follow them, flashing his brights, honking and motioning formed
to pull over. Aunt kay paralyzed continued to listen. When

(01:04:57):
they would eventually pull over, he would tell them there
was something wrong with the car, telling them to pop
the hood so he could help them. When they did,
he'd yank out a few wires, disabling the car. No problem,
he'd say, my buddy has a shop in the next town.
I'll give you a ride, and he'll give you a
good deal. My aunt slowly moved the living room, and

(01:05:20):
when they'd get in his car, he'd have his way
with them and then dispose of them somewhere in the desert.
When they asked how many times he did this, he responded,
too many times to count. They'll never find all the bodies.
Then they asked if anybody ever got away. The man

(01:05:40):
paused and said two or three. My aunt stood alone,
staring into the same toothless grin she saw on that
highway that day. It was the face of Henry Lee Lucas,
also known as the Confession Killer.