April 29, 2025 • 14 mins
Some gas stations are just stops on the road. Others… are something much darker. In tonight's chilling video, we dive into two unsettling tales...
⛽ The Black Van - When a man notices a mysterious black van parked outside his neighbor’s house night after night, his curiosity leads him deep into the forest — to a long-abandoned gas station. What he finds there is something he’ll never forget… if he survives to tell the tale.
🪞 Don’t Look in the Mirror - A weary taxi driver pulls into a secluded gas station for a quick break. But when he steps inside the bathroom, a message scrawled on the wall changes everything: "Don’t look in the mirror."
🔦 Turn off the lights, put on your headphones, and get ready to question every gas station stop after hearing these terrifying true encounters. 👉 LIKE if you enjoy creepy true stories 🔔 SUBSCRIBE for more horror every week 💬 Got your own creepy gas station story? Share it in the comments below...
Subscribe to True Creepy Stories on YouTube!
⛽ The Black Van - When a man notices a mysterious black van parked outside his neighbor’s house night after night, his curiosity leads him deep into the forest — to a long-abandoned gas station. What he finds there is something he’ll never forget… if he survives to tell the tale.
🪞 Don’t Look in the Mirror - A weary taxi driver pulls into a secluded gas station for a quick break. But when he steps inside the bathroom, a message scrawled on the wall changes everything: "Don’t look in the mirror."
🔦 Turn off the lights, put on your headphones, and get ready to question every gas station stop after hearing these terrifying true encounters. 👉 LIKE if you enjoy creepy true stories 🔔 SUBSCRIBE for more horror every week 💬 Got your own creepy gas station story? Share it in the comments below...
Subscribe to True Creepy Stories on YouTube!
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:06):
I've been smoking cigarettes every day for years. Before you judge,
let me just say that I recently started seeing a
therapist for my nicotine addiction. Unfortunately, it hasn't helped much yet.
The only thing worse than my addiction is my sleep schedule.
I don't know what it is. I find myself staying
(00:29):
up for hours past midnight and rarely get out of
bed before noon. I am trying to fix these parts
of my life, but they're extremely relevant to what I'm
about to tell you. A few months ago, I was
standing on my balcony like I do most nights, smoking
a cigarette. I live in a really secluded neighborhood. The
(00:53):
houses aren't too close to each other, but there's one
neighbor whose fence I can see over from my balcony.
I'm not nosy or anything, but that particular night, I
just happened to look over into his yard. I'd never
met the guy, but I assumed he lived alone, since
there was only ever a Navy blue b m W
(01:14):
parked in his driveway. That night, though there was a
black van parked there that I had never seen before.
I didn't think much of it, just noting the coincidence
to myself. The next night, sure enough, the same black
van was parked there, and I was intrigued. The following morning,
(01:38):
I checked his driveway from my balcony, but the van
was gone. For the rest of the week, I made
a game out of watching the van at night, theorizing
what it could be. I said, I wasn't nosy, but
I'll admit I can be obsessive. It's probably the main
reason most of my friends have drifted out of my life.
(02:00):
I wasn't planning to do anything beyond observing, though it
wasn't my business to poke around. But then one night
I saw something that changed my perspective completely. I was
out later than usual, maybe around five a m. And
the van was there again, like it had been every
(02:20):
night that week. I was smoking my last cigarette when,
for the first time I saw my neighbor come outside.
He walked toward the van carrying what looked like a
long black bag. At first, I thought it may be
a set of golf clubs, but it seemed to be
(02:41):
much heavier. He opened the van's sliding door and carefully
placed the bag inside. Then he got into the driver's
seat and sped away. I had no idea what he
was carrying, but I was exhausted and figured I would
think about it more in the morning. The following night,
(03:02):
I decided to go out onto my balcony a little
earlier and wait for the van to arrive. I brought
my laptop with me to get some work done while
I waited. Around ten p m. The van still wasn't there,
but finally, just before one a m. It pulled into
the driveway. I quickly shut my laptop and watched. Nothing
(03:25):
happened for several minutes. The van just sat there, engine running.
Then the driver's door finally opened and my neighbor got out.
He went around to the side of the van, slid
the door open, and pulled out the same black bag
he'd loaded in the night before. This time, though he
(03:47):
was struggling, trying not to collapse under the weight of
whatever was inside. I watched as he waddled a few
slow steps before disappearing into his house with the bag.
Something was definitely wrong, but I wasn't sure what. I
flipped a coin and decided i'd follow his van the
(04:09):
next time he left. After an unproductive day, I went
up to my balcony at four a m. And waited
cigarette in hand. When I saw movement in his driveway,
I rushed downstairs, grabbed my keys, and got into my car.
I kept my head lights off until the van pulled
(04:30):
out onto the main road. Once it did, I started
to tail it. After around twenty minutes of driving, he
pulled on to a dirt path that led into the woods.
I followed, thinking that the path seemed like it had
once been a main road or something. The woods started
(04:50):
thinning out, and after a few more minutes I saw
where he was headed. There was a deserted gas station
tucked away in a clearing in the woods. Parked right
in front of it was the navy blue BMW I
always saw in his driveway. I was starting to get
really nervous, so I turned my car around and parked
(05:12):
across the street from the dirt road. I waited around
an hour before I saw his BMW pull out of
the clearing and head back down the path. As soon
as he was gone, I drove up the dirt road
and pulled over by the gas station. The place was eerie.
The front door was locked, so I walked around to
(05:34):
the side, also locked, and the back door was locked
to But I needed to know what was inside. There
was a row of windows, and I tried opening them,
but none would budge against my better judgment. I picked
up a rock and slammed it into one of the windows.
(05:54):
It shattered easily, but before I could climb inside, alarm
bells star it blaring. Why would an abandoned gas station
have an alarm system? I sprinted back to my car,
heart pounding, and sped out of there. Once I was
on the road, I called nine one one, giving a
(06:15):
vague description of what had happened, and then I hung up.
When I woke the next morning and stepped out onto
my balcony, I saw eight police cars in my neighbour's driveway,
lights flashing. I watched as an officer escorted my neighbor
out of his house in handcuffs. One by one, the
(06:36):
police cars drove away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I lit a cigarette and stood there, trying to piece
it all together. I've asked the police for details several
times since then, but they've never answered any of my questions,
and nothing was ever reported in the news. I even
(06:58):
tried driving back to that guess, but now the whole
road was blocked off. Maybe one day I'll work up
the courage to park my car and walk into those
woods in search of answers. All right, this story happened
(07:28):
at a gas station, of all places, middle of nowhere,
dead of night, not a soul in sight, just me
and a tank that was screaming for a refill. So
this was maybe two or three years ago, still pretty fresh.
I was doing an overnight run from Jersey back to
(07:50):
the city, one of those long ass rides that pays
decent if the guy tips, which he didn't, by the way,
cheap prick. So now I'm heading home, dead tired, low
on gas, and my bladders yelling louder than an old
lady playing Bingo. I pull off the highway and there
(08:12):
it is, this old flickering gas station, sitting all by itself,
like its waiting to be knocked down. It had a
rusty awning and those old school pumps with flip numbers
with a sad excuse for a mini mart attached. It
looked like it hadn't had a proper customer since Reagan
(08:33):
was in office. But the sign was lit up and
it was open. I could barely make out a guy
inside behind the counter reading a newspaper. So I pull
up to the pump and turn off the engine. Stepping outside,
the wind was still no bugs, no nothing, just dead
(08:58):
air sitting on my shoe like wet hair. I glanced
around and there were no cars in any direction. I
slid my card into the pump. Nothing. I tried again,
and it denied. The third time, it spat the card
back out at me like it was allergic. So with
(09:21):
a sigh, I rubbed my eyes and figured I had
to go inside. I walked up to the counter and
the man was just staring at the newspaper without blinking.
I'm pretty sure I stood there a good minute and
he never blinked once. His skin was pale and his
(09:42):
greasy hair was slipped back like it was the nineteen fifties.
The whole place smelt like mildew. I told him the
pump wouldn't take my card and asked if he could help.
He looks up real slow, like it physically hurts to
move his neck. His eyes were cloudy gray, like he'd
(10:05):
been staring at FOG's whole life, and he just stared
at me. I forced a smile and repeated myself. Then
he reaches real slow under the counter and I tensed up,
thinking maybe he was reaching for a weapon, but no,
(10:28):
he pulls out a key on a plastic tag and
tosses it onto the counter. Bathroom's out back. I blinked.
I didn't ask for the bathroom. He just looks at me,
so I nod thanks. I headed out back now full
(10:52):
body creeped out. I wanted to leave and just drive off,
but my bladder was still bellowing. I find the bathroom,
a crumbling concrete shack with a rusty steel door and
one of those motion lights that flickers like a haunted
movie projector. I stick the key in, turn it, and
(11:15):
the smell hits me like a punch in the teeth.
I step inside real slow. There was one urinal and
one stall, a broken mirror, and graffiti everywhere. The stall
had a symbol scratched into the door like an eye
(11:35):
with three slashes through it, and beneath that in red marker,
it said don't look in the mirror after midnight. I
glanced down at my watch twelve o three a m.
And I'm pissed, not scared, pissed. I've had a long night.
(12:00):
I'm exhausted. My back is killing me, and now I'm
standing in the kill room from seven, so I rushed
to do my business, keeping my head down, wash my
hands with soap that smells like old pennies. And just
before I leave, I glance real quick at the mirror.
(12:22):
There was a man right behind me. I spin around
and nothing. The room is empty, but I knew I
saw him. He was tall, with a hat pulled down low,
a long coat that touched the floor. I couldn't see
(12:45):
his face, so I ran, dropping the bathroom key. I
didn't even lock the door behind me. I sprinted right
back to my car, jumping in and locking the doors.
I looked at the store. The lights were still on,
but there was no one behind the counter, no sign
(13:07):
anyone had been there at all. I back out fast,
tires screeching, heart pounding. I glanced in the rear view
and see the bathroom light still flickering, and there was
the shadow of the man, tall, hat coat, a silhouette
(13:32):
in the open doorway. I peeled out of there so
fast I damn near launched the bumper into the next county.
I didn't stop till I hit a crowded dunkin doughnuts
twenty miles up. Parked under a floodlight and sat there shaking,
with a cruller in one hand and a double espresso
(13:53):
in the other. I haven't stopped again for gas at
night since, because some gas stations they're not serving fuel,
they're collecting souls.
I've been smoking cigarettes every day for years. Before you judge,
let me just say that I recently started seeing a
therapist for my nicotine addiction. Unfortunately, it hasn't helped much yet.
The only thing worse than my addiction is my sleep schedule.
I don't know what it is. I find myself staying
(00:29):
up for hours past midnight and rarely get out of
bed before noon. I am trying to fix these parts
of my life, but they're extremely relevant to what I'm
about to tell you. A few months ago, I was
standing on my balcony like I do most nights, smoking
a cigarette. I live in a really secluded neighborhood. The
(00:53):
houses aren't too close to each other, but there's one
neighbor whose fence I can see over from my balcony.
I'm not nosy or anything, but that particular night, I
just happened to look over into his yard. I'd never
met the guy, but I assumed he lived alone, since
there was only ever a Navy blue b m W
(01:14):
parked in his driveway. That night, though there was a
black van parked there that I had never seen before.
I didn't think much of it, just noting the coincidence
to myself. The next night, sure enough, the same black
van was parked there, and I was intrigued. The following morning,
(01:38):
I checked his driveway from my balcony, but the van
was gone. For the rest of the week, I made
a game out of watching the van at night, theorizing
what it could be. I said, I wasn't nosy, but
I'll admit I can be obsessive. It's probably the main
reason most of my friends have drifted out of my life.
(02:00):
I wasn't planning to do anything beyond observing, though it
wasn't my business to poke around. But then one night
I saw something that changed my perspective completely. I was
out later than usual, maybe around five a m. And
the van was there again, like it had been every
(02:20):
night that week. I was smoking my last cigarette when,
for the first time I saw my neighbor come outside.
He walked toward the van carrying what looked like a
long black bag. At first, I thought it may be
a set of golf clubs, but it seemed to be
(02:41):
much heavier. He opened the van's sliding door and carefully
placed the bag inside. Then he got into the driver's
seat and sped away. I had no idea what he
was carrying, but I was exhausted and figured I would
think about it more in the morning. The following night,
(03:02):
I decided to go out onto my balcony a little
earlier and wait for the van to arrive. I brought
my laptop with me to get some work done while
I waited. Around ten p m. The van still wasn't there,
but finally, just before one a m. It pulled into
the driveway. I quickly shut my laptop and watched. Nothing
(03:25):
happened for several minutes. The van just sat there, engine running.
Then the driver's door finally opened and my neighbor got out.
He went around to the side of the van, slid
the door open, and pulled out the same black bag
he'd loaded in the night before. This time, though he
(03:47):
was struggling, trying not to collapse under the weight of
whatever was inside. I watched as he waddled a few
slow steps before disappearing into his house with the bag.
Something was definitely wrong, but I wasn't sure what. I
flipped a coin and decided i'd follow his van the
(04:09):
next time he left. After an unproductive day, I went
up to my balcony at four a m. And waited
cigarette in hand. When I saw movement in his driveway,
I rushed downstairs, grabbed my keys, and got into my car.
I kept my head lights off until the van pulled
(04:30):
out onto the main road. Once it did, I started
to tail it. After around twenty minutes of driving, he
pulled on to a dirt path that led into the woods.
I followed, thinking that the path seemed like it had
once been a main road or something. The woods started
(04:50):
thinning out, and after a few more minutes I saw
where he was headed. There was a deserted gas station
tucked away in a clearing in the woods. Parked right
in front of it was the navy blue BMW I
always saw in his driveway. I was starting to get
really nervous, so I turned my car around and parked
(05:12):
across the street from the dirt road. I waited around
an hour before I saw his BMW pull out of
the clearing and head back down the path. As soon
as he was gone, I drove up the dirt road
and pulled over by the gas station. The place was eerie.
The front door was locked, so I walked around to
(05:34):
the side, also locked, and the back door was locked
to But I needed to know what was inside. There
was a row of windows, and I tried opening them,
but none would budge against my better judgment. I picked
up a rock and slammed it into one of the windows.
(05:54):
It shattered easily, but before I could climb inside, alarm
bells star it blaring. Why would an abandoned gas station
have an alarm system? I sprinted back to my car,
heart pounding, and sped out of there. Once I was
on the road, I called nine one one, giving a
(06:15):
vague description of what had happened, and then I hung up.
When I woke the next morning and stepped out onto
my balcony, I saw eight police cars in my neighbour's driveway,
lights flashing. I watched as an officer escorted my neighbor
out of his house in handcuffs. One by one, the
(06:36):
police cars drove away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I lit a cigarette and stood there, trying to piece
it all together. I've asked the police for details several
times since then, but they've never answered any of my questions,
and nothing was ever reported in the news. I even
(06:58):
tried driving back to that guess, but now the whole
road was blocked off. Maybe one day I'll work up
the courage to park my car and walk into those
woods in search of answers. All right, this story happened
(07:28):
at a gas station, of all places, middle of nowhere,
dead of night, not a soul in sight, just me
and a tank that was screaming for a refill. So
this was maybe two or three years ago, still pretty fresh.
I was doing an overnight run from Jersey back to
(07:50):
the city, one of those long ass rides that pays
decent if the guy tips, which he didn't, by the way,
cheap prick. So now I'm heading home, dead tired, low
on gas, and my bladders yelling louder than an old
lady playing Bingo. I pull off the highway and there
(08:12):
it is, this old flickering gas station, sitting all by itself,
like its waiting to be knocked down. It had a
rusty awning and those old school pumps with flip numbers
with a sad excuse for a mini mart attached. It
looked like it hadn't had a proper customer since Reagan
(08:33):
was in office. But the sign was lit up and
it was open. I could barely make out a guy
inside behind the counter reading a newspaper. So I pull
up to the pump and turn off the engine. Stepping outside,
the wind was still no bugs, no nothing, just dead
(08:58):
air sitting on my shoe like wet hair. I glanced
around and there were no cars in any direction. I
slid my card into the pump. Nothing. I tried again,
and it denied. The third time, it spat the card
back out at me like it was allergic. So with
(09:21):
a sigh, I rubbed my eyes and figured I had
to go inside. I walked up to the counter and
the man was just staring at the newspaper without blinking.
I'm pretty sure I stood there a good minute and
he never blinked once. His skin was pale and his
(09:42):
greasy hair was slipped back like it was the nineteen fifties.
The whole place smelt like mildew. I told him the
pump wouldn't take my card and asked if he could help.
He looks up real slow, like it physically hurts to
move his neck. His eyes were cloudy gray, like he'd
(10:05):
been staring at FOG's whole life, and he just stared
at me. I forced a smile and repeated myself. Then
he reaches real slow under the counter and I tensed up,
thinking maybe he was reaching for a weapon, but no,
(10:28):
he pulls out a key on a plastic tag and
tosses it onto the counter. Bathroom's out back. I blinked.
I didn't ask for the bathroom. He just looks at me,
so I nod thanks. I headed out back now full
(10:52):
body creeped out. I wanted to leave and just drive off,
but my bladder was still bellowing. I find the bathroom,
a crumbling concrete shack with a rusty steel door and
one of those motion lights that flickers like a haunted
movie projector. I stick the key in, turn it, and
(11:15):
the smell hits me like a punch in the teeth.
I step inside real slow. There was one urinal and
one stall, a broken mirror, and graffiti everywhere. The stall
had a symbol scratched into the door like an eye
(11:35):
with three slashes through it, and beneath that in red marker,
it said don't look in the mirror after midnight. I
glanced down at my watch twelve o three a m.
And I'm pissed, not scared, pissed. I've had a long night.
(12:00):
I'm exhausted. My back is killing me, and now I'm
standing in the kill room from seven, so I rushed
to do my business, keeping my head down, wash my
hands with soap that smells like old pennies. And just
before I leave, I glance real quick at the mirror.
(12:22):
There was a man right behind me. I spin around
and nothing. The room is empty, but I knew I
saw him. He was tall, with a hat pulled down low,
a long coat that touched the floor. I couldn't see
(12:45):
his face, so I ran, dropping the bathroom key. I
didn't even lock the door behind me. I sprinted right
back to my car, jumping in and locking the doors.
I looked at the store. The lights were still on,
but there was no one behind the counter, no sign
(13:07):
anyone had been there at all. I back out fast,
tires screeching, heart pounding. I glanced in the rear view
and see the bathroom light still flickering, and there was
the shadow of the man, tall, hat coat, a silhouette
(13:32):
in the open doorway. I peeled out of there so
fast I damn near launched the bumper into the next county.
I didn't stop till I hit a crowded dunkin doughnuts
twenty miles up. Parked under a floodlight and sat there shaking,
with a cruller in one hand and a double espresso
(13:53):
in the other. I haven't stopped again for gas at
night since, because some gas stations they're not serving fuel,
they're collecting souls.
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