They Thought They Were Alone… 2 Chilling TRUE Horror Stories

These two terrifying true stories explore the eerie signs that someone... or something... might be where it doesn't belong.

First, a young woman housesitting notices strange disturbances…until a shocking phone call from the owner changes everything. Then, a man inherits a charming guest house from his late father, but when his son starts hearing noises in the night, the family begins to question if they’re sharing the space with more than just memories.

If you’ve ever felt watched when you were alone, these stories will haunt you.

https://youtu.be/om-M0fPVlRQ

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:10):
I thought the house I was dog sitting in was haunted.
Now I wish it had been. Hey read it throw
away because people I know follow my main account. I
don't really post, and I definitely never thought i'd be
writing something like this. But I haven't slept properly since

(00:35):
it happened, and I keep thinking if I don't get
it out, it's going to mess me up worse than
it already has. Last weekend, I took a dog sitting
job for this sweet old lady in town. I'll call
her missus B. She's one of those ladies everyone knows,

(00:56):
super nice. I'd walked her golden retriever Max before, but
this time she asked if i'd stay over from Friday
to Sunday because she was going to a class reunion
a few states away. The money was good, and I figured, Hey,
free food and a Golden retriever cuddle machine for a

(01:18):
weekend count me in. Her house is really old, big
and creaky, surrounded by trees with barely any neighbors. It
has those tall, narrow windows, dusty picture frames everywhere, and

(01:38):
hallways that seem way too long at night. The kind
of house that feels cozy in the afternoon, but turns
into a nightmare on Elm Street by nine. The first
night was fine. Max and I binged seven straight episodes
of Maud eating popcorn, and while I laughed my ass

(02:01):
off at the genius of b Arthur, I crashed on
the couch around midnight. I'd made sure to lock up
the front and back doors, even double checking the windows.
Maybe a bit paranoid, sure, but I was alone in
a big ass house in the woods. Better safe than sorry.

(02:26):
Around two a m. I woke up out of nowhere.
You know that feeling when your body knows something's wrong
before your brain catches up. That's what it felt like.
I was just lying there in the dark, staring at
the ceiling van and then I heard it faint, slow

(02:50):
thumping noises above me. It sounded like footsteps. I told
myself it was just the leftover sounds from my dream.
But then Max lifted his head and looked at the
ceiling too. With his ears perked up. He let out
this low, growly huff, not a bark, just that I

(03:16):
heard it too, noise that dogs make. My heart was
in my throat. I told myself it was a raccoon
on the roof. Or something. With Max practically on top
of me, I felt secure enough, and eventually I fell
back asleep. The whole next day, though I was on edge.

(03:40):
I even went upstairs to check around in the daylight
and confirm everything looked normal, A little dusty and unused,
but nothing scary, just quiet. But when I went to
feed Max in the morning, I noticed the back door

(04:01):
dead bolt was unlocked. I was one hundred percent absolutely
sure that I had locked it. I remember twisting the
dead bolt and tugging the door to be certain. I
even remember thinking, you watched too many true crime docs
as I did it, so how was it unlocked? But

(04:25):
again I brushed it off. Brains played tricks on us.
Right that night, I made sure everything was locked. I
triple checked the doors and even wedged a chair under
the back door knob. I don't care if that only
works in movies. It made me feel better. Around three

(04:49):
a m. I woke up again, and this time it
wasn't only footsteps. I could hear someone walking down the stairs.
Max was already off the couch, growling low and stiff,
staring at the hallway like he was ready to charge.

(05:11):
I grabbed my phone and turned on the flashlight, heart
absolutely pounding, but I didn't see anything, just the empty
hallway and the stairs vanishing into dark shadows. Then I
heard a door creak, like someone slowly pushing open one
of the guest bedroom doors. I didn't scream, I didn't

(05:36):
even breathe. I just stood there, frozen, shining the flashlight
like it was some kind of weapon. I whispered Max's name,
but he wouldn't move. He just stared. I called my mom,
whispering into the phone like I was hiding from something.

(05:58):
She was out of town to if you're scared, to
call nine one one, cool Mom. Thanks. I didn't sleep
after that. I just sat on the couch with Max,
watching the hallway until the sun came up. And in

(06:19):
the morning, that's when I found the coffee mug, a
white mug, sitting in the sink with a ring of
dried coffee in the bottom. I hadn't used any mugs.
I had never been a coffee drinker. I'd only been

(06:40):
drinking from the water bottle I brought with me. I
hadn't even gone into the cabinets, but there it was,
and the faint smell was still lingering there. I stood
there staring at it like it was a ghost. But
ghosts don't drink coffee, and ghosts don't typically make noises

(07:05):
when they walk around at night. I was officially done.
I called missus B and told her I was uncomfortable
staying there another night because I thought someone had broken in.
I expected panic, or at least concern, but all I

(07:26):
got was this weird, long pause and then a soft, oh, dear,
are you sure? Like she already knew. She sighed and
said she would come home early, and she got back
around three pm. She was weirdly calm and even offered

(07:48):
to pay me the full amount. Anyway, I told her
again that someone else had been in the house, and
that's when she finally told me her son. Apparently he's
in his forties, doesn't have a job, and lives off
and on with her. He has some emotional issues, she said.

(08:13):
He doesn't have a key, but he always finds the
spare and sometimes when she's out of town, he lets
himself in. She said she told him not to this time,
like it was a little misunderstanding, like it was barely
anything at all. I took my payment and left, and

(08:36):
shortly after I blocked her number I left a review
on her page on the sitting site, mentioning how great
Max is and the nice house, but also that she
never disclosed that a strange man could be coming by.
I was in that house for two full nights, totally alone,

(08:59):
or so I thought, and some grown man, someone I
didn't know, had been hiding upstairs, watching me walking around
when he thought I was sleeping, and missus b knew
he might do that, and she left me there anyway

(09:21):
without ever mentioning it. I honestly think about what could
have happened if I tried to go upstairs, or worse,
the idea of waking up and seeing him standing right
over me while I slept. So yeah, I thought the

(09:41):
house was haunted. I wish it had been haunted, but
ghosts don't drink coffee. This happened just last year. I'm forty,

(10:05):
now married with two boys, ages seven and five. I
work in insurance, which sounds boring because it is, but
we're stable, and that's all I care about at this
point in life. A couple of years ago, my dad
passed away after a long bout with cancer. He left

(10:28):
behind a beach house down in Delaware that I had
never been to before because he used to rent it
out year round. It's nothing flashy or big, but it's
in a fantastic spot, just one block off the boardwalk.
My favorite part about it, by far is the upstairs

(10:50):
back deck that provides a really nice view of the ocean.
We started going there every summer after he passed, using
it for our escape a week here, a weekend there.
It became our family tradition. As much as my wife
and I love spending time there, the boys love it

(11:13):
even more. They'll spend hours on end playing on the beach,
riding bikes, and exploring the town. It feels like a gift,
something my dad left behind for us to enjoy. This
story takes place during one of those weeks last summer.

(11:34):
We'd gone down in mid July, a Sunday through Friday
kind of thing, when the crowds would thin out mid
week and the beach was a little quieter. I remember
the night clearly. It was a Wednesday. The boys had
knocked out around nine thirty after a long day in

(11:57):
the sun, and my wife and I were sitting on
the back deck playing cards and sipping wine. That's when
our older son, Jordan came outside he had this uneasy
look on his face. He told me that he kept
hearing a scratching noise in his room and it was

(12:19):
keeping him awake. I glanced at my wife, then set
my glass down and stood up, telling him that I
would go check it out. I figured it was probably
just generic house sounds. It's a pretty old structure. After all,
the boys weren't sharing a room, so there was no

(12:40):
need to wake the younger one. I followed Jordan downstairs
to his room, and he pointed to the wall near
his bed and motioned for me to be quiet. We
both stood there for a while, and I didn't hear
anything at first, but I didn't want him to think
that I didn't believe him, so I kept standing there

(13:01):
a little while longer. Then I finally heard it, a
soft scratching sound, just like he had described. I crouched
down and pressed my ear to the wall. It didn't
sound like an animal in the rafters or anything. It
sounded like it was coming from inside the wall, lower

(13:25):
down and closer to the base boards. And then I
heard breathing. Not an animal, definitely not. It was deep, slow,
human breathing. I flinched back and let out a sharp

(13:47):
Jesus without even meaning to. And then I'm not kidding
about this. I heard the most guttural and angry scream
I've I ever heard, ring out from somewhere inside the wall.
I grabbed Jordan by the arm and yanked him out

(14:09):
of the room. We ran down the hall to get
my younger son, Scott, who was still asleep. I didn't
even give him a chance to open his eyes. I
just scooped him up and ran. I needed to get
back upstairs to the deck where my wife was waiting.
That was the only thing on my mind at that point.

(14:33):
As we reached the base of the stairs, I yelled
for her, and then I heard another scream come from
somewhere behind me. I turned around and saw a man
covered in filth charging down the hallway straight at us.
I nearly tripped trying to get up the stairs with
both of my sons, but we made it onto the

(14:56):
deck just in time. Not two seconds after I slammed
the sliding door shut, the guy hit the glass full force.
I genuinely thought it would shatter. He started clawing at
the door like an animal, shrieking and pounding, yelling things

(15:16):
I can't bring myself to repeat. I threw my body
against the door and yelled at my wife to grab
the kids and call the police. She pulled them back
from the scene, covering their ears, while I kept my
eyes on his trying to block him from the view
of my family. He was wild, completely unhinged. His hand

(15:43):
smeared something I don't even know what across the glass
as he banged and tried to force the door open.
He seemingly had unlimited energy because it took all my
strength to keep that door shut, and he didn't let
up once. But all I could think about was protecting

(16:04):
my family, and I was fully prepared to fight this
guy if the glass broke. But before that happened, the
police showed up. They must have come around the side,
because within seconds I saw two officers inside the house
running at the guy who was still banging on the door.

(16:27):
One of the officers tackled him from behind, and the
other helped restrain him. The rest of the night was
a blur. After getting that guy out of my house
and in the back of a police car, the officers
asked for my version of things, which I told them. Together,

(16:48):
the three of us inspected the house to try and
assess how that man had been inside the walls and
how he had gotten out so quickly. It turns out
the property has a crawl space that I never knew about.
There's an entrance underneath the back porch, and from there

(17:11):
it leads into a standing crawl space that runs alongside
the foundation and has a second access point through a
loose panel in Jordan's closet. I had never even thought
to do a full inspection of the house when we
inherited it. I never even bothered refinishing it. A few

(17:35):
days later, I got more information from a detective who
called to follow up. He shared that the perpetrator admitted
that he had been staying in the crawl space for months,
that he had discovered it during the off season, and
was planning to harm my family that night for intruding

(17:56):
on his new home. Apparently, he had been stealing food
from both our house, which we somehow didn't notice, as
well as the neighbor's trash bins. We didn't go back
for the rest of the summer, not out of fear

(18:17):
of something else happening, but out of trauma. I didn't
want to bring my wife or kids back there for
a while and they didn't object. I hired a crew
to seal off the crawl space completely, and once that
was done, I was finally able to relax a bit.

(18:42):
We've been using the house again this summer, and I'm
glad to say that things are back to normal, at
least as close to it as we're going to get.