Fear is one of the six fundamental human emotions, serving various purposes like protecting us through the fight, flight, freeze, or fawn responses. While fear can be beneficial in certain situations, it can also feel disproportionate or unnecessary at times. Thankfully, we have the ability to train ourselves to manage and regulate it. Regardless of the context, fear often highlights our vulnerability and reminds us of our mortality, ultimately reinforcing the fact that we are alive and breathing. This is one reason why people enjoy telling scary stories, especially when those stories are based on real-life experiences.
In fact, true stories tend to carry an extra weight, often shared not just to entertain but to inform, raise awareness, or offer warnings. This is the essence behind a thread on Reddit where people are sharing their real-life horror stories in response to the question: “What’s the scariest 100% true story you’ve heard of?”
#1
I’ve been working the midnight shift at various gas stations for quite some time now, in different neighborhoods with varying levels of criminal activity. Over the years, I’ve gotten to know a lot of regulars. Being a small woman, along with my partner (who works the other half of the week), the regulars often check in on us, especially when they sense something off. They keep an eye out, offering their own brand of protection whenever they can.
One regular in particular stands out to me. He worked an hour away in the metro and would stop by every morning to pick up his cigarettes. He was always quiet, never smiling, and his demeanor was far from friendly. But, as I do with many people, I tried to figure out how I could make him smile. I’d been serving him for months, and finally, I got it right. One day, I had his cigarettes ready on the counter, already scanned for him to pay. He walked in, saw them, and actually smiled.
He looked at me and asked, “Do you ever get scared working this shift? You small girl, not safe here.”
I replied, “I sometimes do, but we can lock the doors if we need to, and the provincial police station is just around the corner. They come in often to wash their highway vehicles. I’ve got a good rapport with them.”
He nodded, then started telling me a story from when he first moved to our country with his wife and child, back in the late 80s or early 90s. He said he had worked the midnight shift at a gas station, just like I did. One night, he fell asleep at work, completely unaware of what was going on around him. When he finally woke up, the phone had been ringing for hours, and his manager was shaking him, clearly frantic.
“Are you okay?” the manager had asked, shaking him awake.
He responded, “I’m fine, just fell asleep. What’s going on?”
His manager screamed, “It’s not that you fell asleep, look outside!”
Confused, he looked out the window and saw the mess. All the motor oil was gone. The thieves had come in, stolen everything, and left without waking him up. They moved down the road to the next gas station and continued their crime spree. This time, though, the clerk at that station was awake, and when he tried to fight back, the thieves stabbed him to death and left him to bleed out.
When he finished the story, he looked me in the eyes and said, “If you ever feel sleepy, just lock the door and do it. It might save your life.”
I don’t work at that station anymore, but I think about that guy often, and I wonder how his grandkids are doing.
#2
I had something strange happen to me once, more unsettling in a “what could have happened” kind of way, so not as extreme as the stories others have shared.
I was 17, walking home from a night out, pretty drunk and stoned, around 2 a.m. I was in a quiet, desolate part of my route, no one around, hardly any cars. Just a road with a few large shops nearby, like a B&Q and a carpet showroom, those out-of-town shopping areas that have become so common in the UK.
I was passing a lay-by, about 15 feet away from a silver car with its lights on. As I walked by, two men got out and called me over. Something about the situation instantly snapped me out of my drunken haze. I kept walking, but one of the guys shouted, “It’s fine, we’re the police, we’ll drive you home.”
I stopped for a moment, then made some snarky comment along the lines of “real police don’t do this” and called them “dodgy” and that’s what I remember the most about the interaction.
One of them kept insisting I was too drunk to be walking alone and that it wasn’t safe for someone my age. He begged me to let them take me home. At that point, my gut was telling me to be careful, but I didn’t listen to the feeling right away.
He then offered to prove they were real cops by letting me listen to the police radio in the car. The desperation in his voice was odd, he was almost pleading with me. But I was firm and said no. I told them I was fine and continued walking.
The second I was out of their sight, I ran as fast as I could and didn’t relax until I got home 30 minutes later. I kept thinking about how strange it was that they hadn’t tried to force me into the car. But then again, there were the occasional taxis driving by, so maybe they thought someone would see.
I’m 45 now, and I still think about that night. I can’t help but imagine how differently it could’ve gone, and none of the possibilities seem good.
Sadly, I know stories like mine are probably more routine for women, but back then, it really shook me up.
#3
One night, my aunt fell asleep on the couch while my uncle was upstairs. She woke up around midnight to find a random man just staring at her while she slept. He then said, “The guy upstairs is sound asleep,” meaning he had come in, noticed my aunt on the couch, looked around, saw my uncle asleep upstairs, and just sat there watching her. She told him to leave, and somehow, by some miracle, he actually did. He had come in through the back door. We live in a pretty safe area, so it was beyond unsettling. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.
#4
A few years ago, my brother was dating the love of his life. They met while working at a restaurant, he was the piano player, and she was a waitress. Things were going perfectly between them, but there was one major issue: her jealous ex.
The ex knew their work schedules and where they’d be after their shifts, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. For reasons unknown, he decided to teach my brother a lesson by attacking him with a Stanley knife when he left work one night.
That evening, my brother and his girlfriend were about to leave, but he stopped to chat with a coworker. She left first. As soon as she stepped outside, the ex slashed her throat and ran. My brother witnessed her death, but the attack had actually been meant for him.
Since then, my brother has gone through a lot, struggling with therapy and battling dark times. But he’s finally starting to heal. Still, it terrifies me how close I came to losing him and how much he lost because of the actions of a deranged person.
I don’t know what I’d do if I ever saw that guy, but thankfully he’s in prison for a long time, and as far as I know, he’s staying there.
#5
In the 1990s, a nurse in New Jersey was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of hospital patients.
He would sometimes sneak into patients’ rooms at night, injecting them with fatal doses of medication. On other occasions, he would contaminate IV bags in the supply room, ensuring that whichever patient received them would die later.
Despite several accusations, some from patients who identified him before they passed and others from staff who found him unsettling and dangerous, he kept finding new jobs. He was fired from multiple hospitals, but hospital administrators chose not to report him to the police, fearing lawsuits from the victims’ families if he were arrested.
This went on at 12 different hospitals over a span of 16 years. Investigators estimate that he may have killed up to 400 people.
After his arrest, he confessed to 40 murders. For 29 of these cases, he provided enough detail for him to be charged and plead guilty. However, he is linked to more than 300 additional deaths, but many of the details remain unknown due to lost or destroyed records.
#6
Although not as chilling as some other stories, this one serves as a stark reminder for those who’ve never lived under a dictatorship.
My father was in his final year of high school when Brazil’s dictatorship began in 1964. One day, two soldiers entered his classroom, grabbed a classmate by the arm, and dragged him out. That was the last anyone saw of him, his family never received an explanation, no warrant, no trial, he simply vanished.
My father and his brother shared stories about the “spies” who would occasionally show up at schools and universities. These were often random individuals who would blend in as students, sometimes befriending classmates if they stayed long enough. But when these “students” disappeared, it was usually followed by the disappearance of a real student.
When the military government enacted Institutional Act Number Five (AI-5), it effectively suspended most civil rights. The military could enter homes without permission, seize anything or anyone they wanted, and leave without giving any explanations. During this time, many people were tortured or killed under the pretext of protecting the country from communism, a threat that never really existed.
#7
One night, my uncle was at a bar and struck up a conversation with a random guy he described as “a really nice guy.” They hit it off and met a few more times at the same bar, sharing drinks and chatting about all sorts of things.
But then, my uncle stopped seeing him around. Some time later, my uncle received a jury duty notice. He showed up, only to find out that the case was about a serial killer, and the killer turned out to be his friend from the bar, Derrick Todd Lee.
Understandably, my uncle was immediately dismissed from jury duty.
#8
My grandfather was a British FEPOW (Far East Prisoner of War) in Japan during WWII. One evening, he did something to anger the guards at his camp, and they beat him severely, tying him up to a fence with the threat of killing him the following day. That night, another young prisoner died, and the guards switched my grandfather with the deceased man, assuming he had succumbed to his injuries. Miraculously, my grandfather survived and made it home in 1945.
#9
My great-grandfather was a combat medic in the army. During D-Day at Omaha Beach, he climbed the cliffs without a weapon, stopping to remove bullets, bandage wounds, and assist others, all while machine guns rained fire on him. The fact that he lived to sit in his favorite leather recliner and share that story with me over 70 years later is nothing short of a miracle.
#10
This is a heartbreaking and true story that highlights a disturbing societal issue:
While I was on life support, there was another girl on a ventilator just down the hall from me. Like me, she had all the classic symptoms: headaches upon waking, vomiting without nausea, and even getting lost in the house she’d lived in for years.
She did what I did, she researched her symptoms extensively, but unlike me, she correctly identified what was wrong and asked her parents for a scan. Unfortunately, due to the financial strain of raising multiple kids, her parents said no. She was at an age where the symptoms didn’t seem catastrophic enough for them to act.
Meanwhile, I ignored my own symptoms, treating them by going to the gym, convinced I couldn’t afford a scan. My mother begged me to get one, but I refused, fearing the scan would reveal a pre-existing condition that could jeopardize my health insurance.
The other girl, however, worked three jobs to save for her scan. She saw several neurologists, but each dismissed her, calling her too young and telling her she was likely a hypochondriac. Eventually, one doctor, just to quiet her, agreed to give her a scan. He told her upfront that the results would take weeks.
I kept going to the gym until the day I collapsed, vomiting blood and experiencing a burst pupil.
Meanwhile, she had her first craniotomy while walking and talking, seemingly fine.
My family stayed by my side through my coma, telling me how much they loved me. She had her own family and boyfriend, doing the same for her.
I woke up. She didn’t.
I met her family and boyfriend. I visited the ICU and saw them growing more gaunt and desperate with each visit, until the time I learned she had been moved to long-term care. I recovered. She passed away.
Brain cancer is that kind of cruel.
Since then, I’ve dealt with survivor’s guilt, vowing to make the most of the life I was given, but it could’ve, and probably should’ve, been her outcome. How many other lives are we dismissing in the same way, just because of how people look or their age? How many people’s suffering do we ignore, unthinkingly throwing lives away? It’s terrifying.
#11
Earlier this year, something truly devastating happened to a work colleague of mine. He was absent from work for an extended period, which was unusual for him. When he finally returned, we learned the tragic reason: his friend had been murdered by a group of football (soccer) hooligans.
The incident unfolded after a match at a pub where my colleague and his friends were celebrating a win. A group of men from the opposing team started an argument, and when my colleague and his group left the pub, they were attacked. His friend was brutally beaten to the point where he ended up in the hospital, where he later succumbed to his injuries.
This is exactly why I have such disdain for football culture, especially in England. Riot vans, hundreds of police officers, it’s all too common around train stations and football stadiums. It’s heartbreaking that there are people out there who are willing to take someone’s life over a game. Sadly, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened, and it certainly won’t be the last. The senseless violence tied to something as trivial as a ball being kicked around is just mind-boggling.
#12
One night, my college girlfriend called me in a panic. The “Baton Rouge Serial Killer” had been active for some time, and she was convinced she was being followed. She noticed a white truck tailing her around town, even when she took multiple routes to shake it off. The killer was known to drive a similar truck, and my girlfriend fit the victim profile, brunette and staying in a wealthy neighborhood while house-sitting for her aunt.
My roommate and I immediately drove over to check on her. We followed the truck as it trailed her, assuming it might just be a prank. She lived near LSU, so I thought it could be a joke by some students. When she parked at her aunt’s house, the truck stopped just one house away. We parked behind her, and I decided to go confront the driver.
I walked up to the truck and calmly explained that there was no need to panic, but my girlfriend was freaked out, and he needed to leave. The man, who was African American, didn’t say much and gave me a side glance before driving off.
A few months later, I saw his picture on the cover of the Baton Rouge paper, he had been arrested. He was the killer.
#13
This story still gives me chills to this day, but it’s one I think is worth sharing.
When I was 10 years old, I lived in Mesa, Arizona, in a rough neighborhood. As a kid, I was completely oblivious to the dangers around me. One evening, I was walking home from my friend’s house. My mom had asked me to be home by 9 p.m., so I always left around 8:40 to make sure I wasn’t late. It was only a couple of blocks away, so the walk wasn’t long. This happened during the time of year when the sun set early, around 5:30 p.m., so it was already dark by 7 p.m.
As I was walking, I heard a woman calling my name. I turned and saw someone who looked familiar, one of my mom’s acquaintances, though they weren’t close. I didn’t know her name, but she seemed friendly enough, so I smiled and said hello. She walked up to me and told me that my mom had called her, saying there was an emergency at home and that she needed to give me a ride back. She mentioned her husband was with her, someone my family also knew.
I was only about five minutes from my house, but she insisted it was urgent, so I agreed to go with her. As we walked, I suddenly felt this intense, uneasy feeling in my gut, and my legs started shaking. Looking back, I realize now that my instincts were screaming at me. I stopped for a moment and asked if we could call my mom to check in. The woman told me my mom was at the hospital and that I needed to hurry.
Just as we were about to get into their car, I heard my mom shout my name as loud as she could. I immediately turned around and walked toward her. My mom asked what was going on, and the woman quickly said she was just giving me a ride home because she saw me walking alone. That wasn’t the story she had told me earlier, so I explained to my mom what she had said about the emergency. My mom could always tell when I was lying or telling the truth, and she knew I wasn’t making this up.
The woman tried to interrupt, likely to cover her tracks, but my mom cut her off. She stared at the woman with a look of pure shock and said something I’ll never forget: “You were trying to take my son.” Her voice was filled with disbelief and anger. The woman’s husband, who was in the car, looked out the window and urged his wife to hurry up. As I glanced at him, I noticed a syringe on the dashboard, leaning against the windshield. He quickly grabbed it as soon as he saw me looking.
The woman got into the car, and my mom, furious, reached into her purse for the pocket knife she always carried. But they sped off before she could do anything. After they left, my mom turned to me, burst into tears, and said, “I almost lost you.” She knew exactly what had almost happened, and I was too shaken to say anything. I just hugged her tightly, and we went home.
For a while, I tried to convince myself that maybe I wasn’t in real danger, just to cope with what had happened. My family cut off all contact with that couple, and my stepdad reported the incident to the police. About three months later, we found out the husband had been arrested for possessing child pornography on his computer. Police also found restraints and containers of Propofol in his closet. Shockingly, they discovered pictures of me that he had downloaded from my mom’s Facebook, suggesting he had been watching me for some time.
I’ve never liked talking about this because it’s still hard to process. If I hadn’t stopped for those few seconds to ask the woman to call my mom, I don’t know where I’d be, or if I’d even be alive today. It’s the kind of story you hear on the news and never think will happen to you, but that night, my life was 20 seconds away from being completely different.
I asked my mom later why she came looking for me that night. She said she had the same gut feeling I’d had moments before, that something was wrong. She trusted her instincts, and because of that, she saved me.
I’m not usually a lucky person, but I’ll always remember how fortunate I was that night. My mom’s instincts kicked in when mine didn’t, and she acted without hesitation. Since then, I’ve never ignored my gut feelings. For years after that, my mom walked with me whenever I went out, even up until I was 13 and moved back in with my dad.
To this day, it’s the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced. It’s a reminder that danger can come from unexpected places, and sometimes, trusting your instincts can make all the difference.
#14
When I was around 18, I went out with my friends to grab a drink. By 2 AM, I was completely hammered, couldn’t see, walk, or think straight.
One of my friends had stayed sober so he could drive us home. We were walking through the parking lot when I suddenly heard a voice, faint and distant, coming from the dark. I turned around and saw two guys carrying a girl to a car. As I got closer, I could hear her voice more clearly. She was obviously drunk and repeatedly saying, “No,” and, “I don’t want to.”
That’s when the adrenaline hit me and I sobered up instantly. I yelled at the guys and called the police right away. Unfortunately, I wasn’t fast enough, by the time I called, they managed to get her in the car and drive off. But I caught the license plate number and immediately gave it to the officer I spoke to at the station.
About 10 minutes later, the police informed me that they had arrested the two men. The whole experience was terrifying. This all happened in Germany, and I’m just glad I was able to do something before it was too late.
#15
When I was learning to drive, my instructor gave me a piece of advice that stuck with me: always lock your car doors as soon as you get in. I asked her why, and she shared her personal experience.
It happened almost a year after she got her driving license. She had finished work around 3 AM and was getting into her car, about to start it, when three men jumped in. They held a knife to her neck and ordered her to drive. They directed her to an alley, where they dragged her out of the car and assaulted her. Afterward, they left her in the alley, stole her car and purse, and left her there. It took her a while to get help. The police eventually found her car a few days later, abandoned and set on fire on the outskirts of the city, but the men were never caught.
This experience is why she decided to become a driving instructor. She wanted to help protect other women and ensure no one else went through what she had. So, she made it a point to advise all her female students to lock their doors as soon as they got in.
To clarify, she does give the same advice to her male students as well, but she leaves out the more graphic details of her experience when sharing her story with them.
I’m still in touch with her on social media, and she’s been happy to see her advice being shared. She told me that, before retiring for health reasons, she wanted to make sure her story was out there so it could help others. She receives messages from past students, like me, thanking her for the advice and telling her about close calls they’ve had.
She recently sent a message saying, “Thank you for sharing your experience and advice, so others can stay safe and avoid going through the same experience.”
