3 Disturbing TRUE Suburban Horror Stories

This happened several summers ago when I was still living in my childhood home with my parents. I was 17. One random weekend, my parents went away for a few days without taking me with them, which was pretty much unheard of.

They're the kind of people who are always at home, constantly keeping the house in order and rarely ever taking time away for themselves. In all my years living there, I couldn't remember a single time they'd ever gone away together like that. Naturally, I decided to take advantage of the rare opportunity, and I invited over MJ, my girlfriend at the time, to spend the weekend.

It felt like a once-in-a-lifetime chance to have the house to myself without any interruptions. MJ had this playful, devious side to her that made every moment feel a little more exciting than it should have been. Admittedly, that's one of the reasons why we didn't work out, but I'm not going to open that can of worms right now.

Knowing her, I should have been able to predict what was going to happen that night. As soon as she saw my heated pool glowing away in the backyard, her eyes lit up with a spark of mischief. She told me we should skinny dip, grinning like it was the most obvious idea in the world.

I told her my neighbors would see, but she pestered me and made the very good point that we'd probably never get the chance again. We had gone swimming many times, but had never done something that devious before. At least I hadn't.

I was always the well- behaved, polite kid growing up. Even now, I sometimes scold myself for being too nice. Anyway, it took a lot of convincing for me to agree, but MJ had a way about her.

Her enthusiasm was contagious and before long we were in the pool laughing and splashing under the night sky. It was actually a really romantic moment, as cheesy as that sounds. The water was warm against the cool summer air and everything felt perfect, almost surreal.

Let me quickly describe the house. The pool was right outside the large bay windows that overlooked the living room. Because it was so dark outside and the lights inside were still on, we had a perfect view into the house.

It was like looking into a lit up dollhouse. I'm sorry if that doesn't make sense, but if you saw a picture, you'd get what I'm talking about. For a while, that view made me feel safe, like we were still connected to the house, even while we floated outside in our own little bubble.

That comfort didn't last long, though. At one point, as MJ was talking about something, I don't even remember what, I glanced up at the windows and froze. I saw the last thing I expected to see.

On one of the far living room walls was a shadow. It was faint but distinct, and I knew it was definitely a shadow because of how it was moving. I watched in horror as it moved out of sight, like someone was walking deeper into the house.

My heart started pounding. I felt a surge of panic, but I didn't want to scare MJ. I whispered to her that we needed to get out of the pool.

She didn't question me. She just quickly followed my lead as I tried to get out of the pool and dry off as discreetly as possible. I told MJ to hide in the pool house, turn off the light, and stay completely silent until I came back.

Her playful demeanor was completely gone. I could tell she was freaking out, but she was doing a really good job keeping it together. She nodded and slipped into the pool house without another word.

I opened the back door as quietly as I could and stepped into the kitchen. I was going to handle the situation myself. That's just how my parents had raised me.

I grabbed a knife off one of the cutting boards and started moving through the house. Someone had definitely been in there. That much was obvious.

I started noticing small, subtle signs that didn't make any sense to me. A chair in the dining room was slightly pulled out like someone had been sitting there. A picture frame on the wall was crooked.

A coffee mug I didn't remember using was sitting on the counter. Stuff like that. Stuff that no rational robber would ever waste time doing.

As I moved through the house, I started considering the possibility that it wasn't a robber I was looking for. My heart rate must have been insane at that point. I thought I was going to be tackled every 5 seconds, but nothing ever happened.

I checked every room on the ground floor, but I didn't find anyone. All the doors were locked and all the windows were shut tight. It didn't make any sense.

If someone had been inside, where were they now? The more I wandered around the house, the more my masculine bravado disappeared. At one point, I just got fed up and decided to call the police.

They arrived quickly and did a thorough search of the house and yard, but they didn't find anything either. No signs of forced entry, no footprints in the backyard, nothing. They couldn't even come up with a legitimate method of entry.

One of the officers suggested I might have scared off whoever it was, but I wasn't convinced. At a certain point, it was too late at night to do much else. The police left.

MJ and I were too scared to stay in the house, but we didn't have another option. We locked every door, barricaded the bedroom, and tried to get some sleep. Around 4:00 a.

m. , I woke up to the sound of creaking floorboards above me. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but the noise was way too obvious.

Someone was moving upstairs. I listened for a while longer and started hearing footsteps moving down the stairs, like whoever it was was trying to make their way outside. Adrenaline surged through me as I grabbed the knife I'd left on the nightstand.

I told MJ to stay put and bolted out of the room. I moved as quickly and as quietly as I could, but by the time I reached the front door, it was wide open. Whoever had been inside was gone.

I didn't even bother calling the police again. There was nothing they'd be able to do anyway. I just made sure all the doors were locked and went back to bed.

The next morning, the full extent of the intrusion hit me. All of our kitchen knives were missing. All of them.

which was definitely not something a rational person would do. They'd also taken smaller items, some cash, a few watches, random electronics, but it was the knives that haunted me. It felt like whoever had been inside had left a message, though I couldn't figure out what it was.

When my parents came home and I told them what happened, they were surprisingly understanding. I'm not one to scare easily. Never have been, so this experience honestly didn't affect me much.

But even now, I still sometimes acknowledge how strange it all was. I was never able to figure out how that person had gotten inside or where they had been hiding while the police searched the house. This is always going to be one of those odd things that just sticks with a person forever.

This happened last year during Hollywood bash weekends. I go to Rowan University and for anyone who doesn't know, Holly Bash is Rowan's big spring festival. Kind of like our own mini Coachella.

It's held every April on Holly Bush Green right near the historic Holly Bush mansion. There are carnival rides, food trucks, lawn games, and a concert with a surprise headliner. The whole campus shows up.

It's supposed to be the most fun day of the year. I was a sophomore at the time and like a lot of other students, I stayed out late that night. Rowan's in a pretty quiet suburban neighborhood.

Glboro doesn't really feel dangerous, even at 2:00 in the morning. That's probably why I didn't think much of it when I left my friend's dorm and started walking back to Chestnut Hall alone. What I didn't know was that earlier in the night around 12:30 a.

m. a group of masked people, like 10 of them, maybe more, had been seen banging on doors and riding bikes around campus, including outside Chestnut. I personally never saw that firsthand, but apparently it was alarming enough that people were posting about it online while it was happening.

I didn't check any of that stuff. I was just trying to get back to my dorm. So, it's about 2:30 a.

m. I swipe into Chestnut Hall, go inside, and I'm walking towards the stairs when I notice someone sitting in the lounge. That alone isn't weird.

It's a college dorm. People are up all the time. But the guy was wearing a mask, not a co mask, like a full-on black ski mask.

And he wasn't doing anything, just sitting there dead silent. It took me a second to process. I actually paused near the entrance of the lounge, kind of frozen.

It didn't make sense. I had no idea what he was doing there or why he was masked, but it genuinely freaked me out. And then he jumped off the couch and turned towards me in one quick motion.

I didn't even think. I ran down the hall and ducked into the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind me. I must have stayed in there for at least 5 minutes, long enough to hear the hallway go completely silent again.

I didn't want to seem paranoid, but my gut was screaming at me. Eventually, I cracked the door open and peaked out. No one was in the hall.

I thought maybe he had left. I stepped out. I didn't want to sprint and freak myself out even more, so I just walked toward the other exit.

That's when I saw him again. He was still in the lounge, still masked, and this time he was directly across from where I had to walk. His bike was leaned against the door and there was a chair wedged between the wall and the frame like it had been jammed there on purpose.

I had pepper spray on my keychain. I pulled it out and held it in front of me. I didn't aim or threaten him.

I just showed that I had it, hoping it would be enough. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I walked past him.

He didn't try to stop me. He didn't even flinch. It was like he wanted me to see him.

like the fear was the whole point. I didn't look back. I pushed the other door open and left the building.

I was halfway to Magnolia when I heard the sound of bikes behind me. Three more masked people rode up next to me. They didn't touch me or try to grab me, but they were heckling me, laughing, saying things I couldn't make out.

I know that sounds pretty harmless on its own, but a few of them were waving around what looked like guns, which was the part that freaked me out the most. I guess they could have been fake or airsoft guns even, but it was clear that they were trying to intimidate me. I tried to ignore them, but I could feel how close they were riding, just barely out of arms reach.

I made it to Magnolia and texted my friend to come meet me outside. He walked me back to Chestnut, and that made me feel a lot safer. Luckily, the bikers were gone by then.

I didn't call the police that night. I wasn't hurt, but I was really scared. I can't even fully explain why.

It wasn't until the next morning that I told my mom everything. She ended up reporting it and later that night, some of my guy friendss texted me that they'd also been approached by a group of masked guys and a few of them had pulled guns. Nobody was hurt, but it was enough that campus police started taking it seriously.

I've heard a lot of rumors about who those guys were. Some people think it was just a bunch of local kids trying to scare people. It's just the gun detail that freaks me out.

It's likely that a group of armed non- students had somehow made their way into my dorm that night, the place I live. I've been scared to walk home alone ever [Music] since. This story happened two summers ago back when I was still dating Amanda.

I've kept it to myself for a while, not because it's embarrassing or anything, but because I didn't want to risk unintentionally doxing her or her family. Now that we've been broken up for over a year, I think it's safe to talk about it. At the time, Amanda was working as a camp counselor for a summer program in the city.

It wasn't exactly close to home, about a 25-minute drive from her quiet, wealthy suburban neighborhood. But she loved the job for reasons I still don't fully understand. I always thought it was a little beneath her, especially considering her aspirations in life, but I wasn't going to be a jerk and outright say that her house was exactly what you'd picture for a family in that kind of area.

Big yard, three stories, high ceilings, and enough space to host just about any event. That's why when the camp counselors were deciding where to host their end of summer party, Amanda's house was the obvious choice. I'm probably making it sound like that was the first time she hosted camp related parties, but that's not really the case.

It just so happened that it was my first time experiencing one since I hadn't been dating her the previous summer. Her parents were out of town that weekend. They were always out of town, really.

I don't want to get too deep into it out of respect, but Amanda's family dynamic was odd. Her relationship with her parents more closely resembled that of three colleagues rather than three family members. Everything was very transactional and it was blatantly obvious to any onlooker that all three of them were versions of the same narcissistic, insecure person, even though they despised being compared to each other.

That description is honestly a little harsh. Her dad was pretty chill and I honestly missed the guy, but you know, feelings. Anyway, the party was packed.

Dozens of people crowded into the house and spilled out into the backyard. The vibe was lively and fun, and most of the guests were friendly and easygoing. Well, except for one guy, Pete.

From the moment he showed up, I had a bad feeling about him. He was loud, overly confident, and spent way too much time talking to Amanda. It wasn't just small talk, either.

It was full-on flirting. He wasn't even trying to hide it. I felt disrespected, but I didn't want to make a scene.

Amanda and I had been dating for a while, and while I trusted her most of the time, she had a bad habit of being a little too friendly with other guys. It was a sore spot in our relationship, and I knew bringing it up would only cause problems. I didn't want to come off as insecure, so instead of confronting Pete directly, I came up with a different plan.

I started acting overly friendly toward him. Every time he finished a drink, I offered him another. We talked, laughed, and before long, Pete was drinking faster than he probably should have been.

I don't exactly have the build of a heavy drinker, but the Irish and Mexican in my blood means my alcohol tolerance is always going to be absurdly high. My plan was to get him so wasted that he either made a fool of himself and the problem took care of itself or he fell asleep and the problem took care of itself. It was a win-win.

I was kind of surprised to discover that my plan had actually worked and sooner than expected, too. By midnight, he was passed out on the basement couches, drooling into a pillow. I was smug about it, but Amanda saw right through me.

She accused me of doing it on purpose, which I denied. After some tense back and forth, I finally admitted that I may have played a small role in it. We argued a little, but it wasn't anything serious.

Just another disagreement to add to the pile. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that my petty stunt had put a damper on the night. As the party wore on, the house got louder, messier, and more chaotic.

I needed a break, so I stepped outside to get some air. The driveway was cool and quiet, a nice contrast to the noise inside. I was leaning against Amanda's car, just staring up at the stars when I noticed someone standing at the far edge of the property.

The figure was motionless, just standing there in the dim glow of one of the street lamps. I squinted, trying to make out who it was. When they didn't move, I decided to approach them.

It was probably the liquid confidence that made me do it. I don't think I would have done it otherwise. I asked, "Hey, can I help you?

" Trying to sound friendly, but a little assertive. The figure took a few slow steps towards me before stopping. It was definitely a man.

That much I could tell, but I couldn't make out any notable features since it was so dark. He didn't answer my question. Instead, he asked, "Are your parents home?

The question threw me off. It wasn't just what he asked. It was how he said it.

Like he already knew the answer. Before I could respond, he repeated his question. This time named dropping Amanda's parents.

He knew who they were. That was enough to turn the unease I'd been feeling into full-blown suspicion. I lied and told the guy my parents were inside.

Even though part of me thought he knew I didn't live there and that I was lying. Still, I thought maybe I could deter him from doing whatever he was going to do. The guy nodded and just said, "Okay.

" before turning and walking away. I expected him to head to a car or another house, but he didn't. Instead, he walked straight down the street, disappearing into the darkness.

I watched him for as long as I could, but it was too dark to tell where he went. Something about it didn't sit right with me, but I tried to brush it off. I went back inside and ended up in the basement playing pingpong with a few other people.

Amanda had a pool table upstairs, so most of the crowd was up there, leaving the basement quieter. I didn't feel like being my usual fun, social self, so I preferred the quieter atmosphere where I could actually hear people talking. At some point, I heard the doorbell ring.

At first, I didn't think much of it. This was a party, after all, so people coming and going wasn't anything out of the ordinary. But something in my subconscious was tugging at my brain like there was something I was missing.

As I stood there mindlessly slapping a ping-pong ball around, I realized what it was. Amanda had instructed everyone to come through the back door, which didn't even have a doorbell. That meant someone had come up to the front door, which wasn't supposed to happen.

I excused myself from the game and headed upstairs, knowing I was probably overreacting, but wanting an answer. As I walked past Amanda's room, I noticed she was passed out on her bed, completely oblivious to the chaos around her. That's when it hit me.

I was probably the only somewhat sober person left in the house. I turned her bedroom light off and gently shut her door, trying not to disturb her. When I got to the front door, a girl named Bella was standing there.

I asked if she knew who had rung the doorbell. She was belligerently drunk, so getting a coherent response out of her was about as easy as getting one out of a squirrel. That girl was also pretty brain dead sober, which didn't help matters.

Eventually, she said that there was some old guy at the door who claimed to be a family friend and needed to return something he borrowed. In response to that, I yelled, "You let him in? " She shrugged her shoulders and walked away, presumably to go spin the roulette wheel on which random guy she would be bringing home that night.

I ran upstairs to Amanda's parents' room, and my worst fears were confirmed. Drwers were pulled open, jewelry boxes were empty, and the closet looked like it had been ransacked. That guy had robbed them.

I figured he was already gone. I mean, the jewelry boxes were empty, the drawers were ransacked. It looked like he had taken what he had come for.

I was about to head back downstairs when I noticed something move in the mirror on the back of the door. It was just a quick shift, like someone ducking out of view behind me. I turned around, but I wasn't fast enough.

The guy tackled me before I even saw his face. He knocked the wind out of me as the two of us hit the ground, and I couldn't breathe. The guy started clawing at my shirt like he was trying to rip it off of me.

With all the strength I had, I managed to push him off, but it was more panic than strength. He got up and sprinted straight across the room, dove out one of the open windows, and landed on the roof with a thud. I ran to the window just in time to see him drop into the sideyard and take off running.

I didn't chase him. I wouldn't have been able to catch him anyway. I just stood there trying to process what had happened and catch my breath.

The damage was done. He was gone. But the encounter took its toll.

I didn't want to stay up any longer and chaperone everyone. I didn't want to be the guy to kick everyone out either, though. So, I actually called the police and told them to help me kick everyone out.

Most of the local officers knew Amanda's family, so it wasn't like they were going to arrest anyone or do anything drastic. The cops came and kicked everyone out, and I secretly thanked them for their help. After they left, I went downstairs, slapped Pete awake, and told him he had to find some way home.

He threw up before calling an Uber. The next morning, Amanda had no choice but to call her parents and tell them what had happens. They were furious, as anyone would be, but Amanda didn't seem to care.

She had always been rebellious, brushing off authority like it was beneath her. They didn't even bother calling the police. The house had no cameras, and they figured it would be a waste of time.

I'm still not sure how that guy knew Amanda's parents weren't home. Part of me thinks whoever robbed them knew them in some capacity. Looking back, that night revealed more about Amanda than I wanted to admit.

Her indifference, her carelessness, it was all a red flag I should have taken more seriously. Hindsight, as they say, is 2020.