It was a gloomy autumn evening when I found myself alone on the way home. The last rays of the setting sun turned the streets an eerie orange. I was exhausted from a long day at work and longed for my warm home. But my walk home would become a nightmare that I would never forget.
It was just after 6 p.m. when I walked down the deserted street. The trees lined the path and the leaves rustled in the wind. I felt like someone was watching me, but I chalked it up to frayed nerves and my love of horror stories on Reddit.
I quickened my pace and tried to calm my pulse. But suddenly I heard a quiet but unmistakable sound behind me - footsteps. Someone was following me at a distance that still seemed incredibly close.
I turned around, but there was no one in sight. The street was empty, only the trees and the gentle whisper of the wind accompanied me. My heart pounded faster as I continued on my way, now determined not to look back.
When I saw my house in the distance, I felt a sense of relief, but it quickly faded. Because there was a light on in my living room, even though I was sure I had turned it off. My breath hitched as I opened the door and took a quick look at the room.
There was someone sitting on my sofa. A dark figure, his face hidden in shadow. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” I stammered in fear.
The figure rose slowly and stepped into the light. It was a woman in a tattered, blood-stained dress. Her eyes were blank and she smiled in a way that made my blood run cold. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she whispered in an eerie voice.
I wanted to scream, but my voice failed. She came closer and I backed away until I hit the wall. The woman reached out to me with her bloody hands and touched my face. “You’re the one I’m looking for.”
Suddenly I heard the footsteps again, this time from outside, and then a quiet voice calling to me. It was my neighbor who was worriedly looking for me. The woman let go of me and disappeared into the shadows of the room.
I ran to the door and rushed outside, where my neighbor met me. “Are you okay? I heard screaming,” he said worriedly.
I told him about the mysterious woman in my house, but when we went back she was gone. There was no sign of her except the bloody print of her hand on my face.
I couldn’t sleep for the next few days. I found no explanation for what had happened. But then, as I was browsing my Reddit feed, I saw a post on r/nosleep that made me freeze. It was the story of a woman who told of a sinister persecutor who repeatedly haunted her.
The description of the woman and her bloody hands matched exactly what I had experienced. I didn’t know if it was a bizarre twist of fate or something darker, but I felt trapped in a terrible story that had no resolution.
Since that night, I have never walked down the street alone again, and I have never felt safe again. The idea that someone or something was stalking me has scarred me forever, and I can only hope that this eerie encounter will never happen again.