Hi everyone, These Mix Real Horror Stories are sent by Real People which are the real encounters happened with them. Keep reading and sharing your stories with us.
Story 1 of Mix Real Horror Stories : The Thing in the Cornfield
Submitted by: Anonymous, Indiana, USA
I was raised in a tiny rural town in Indiana. Miles of cornfields, nothing but trees, fields, and quiet. You know the type of place — the kind where people don’t lock their doors, and a passing car at 9 PM gets you to look out the window.
It occurred when I was 17, in late September — one of those strange times when the air has the scent of drying leaves and the cornfields are ripe. My parents had left town for a weekend wedding, and I was left behind alone with our dog, a huge German shepherd named Max.
We dwelled on the outskirts of town, flanked by a dense cornfield. I never found it eerie at night, particularly when the wind swept through it — that dry rustling noise that created the impression of something waiting within, observing.
That evening, I was home alone watching a horror movie when Max began growling at the back door. Not barking, a low, guttural growl. His hackles were up, and his eyes were fixed on the back window that overlooked the cornfield.
I dismissed it initially. A raccoon or deer, probably.
But then he began to pace — back and forth, whining, then growling again. I suspended the movie and switched off the lights to peer outside.
The porch lamp was lit, this soft yellow light, but beyond that… nothing. Just the dark corn wall undulating in the wind.
I was turning to head away when I noticed it.
Something shifted.
Not an animal. Not a deer. Tall — standing up. It was a slight movement — a shift, a tilt of the head. I blinked and it was gone. Or perhaps I dreamed it.
I locked the door anyway. Just in case.
But at 2 AM, I awoke to Max growling once more — louder, more insistently. I got up and made my way to the kitchen where he was standing near the back door, his muscles taut, his ears perked.
That’s when I heard it — a gentle tap… tap… tap… against the glass.
I was paralyzed.
It wasn’t rain. It wasn’t wind. It were fingers. Fingernails.
Something was knocking on the glass of the back door.
I didn’t want to peek. But I had to.
I crept over, keeping my body low, and looked up just enough to see out — and there it was.
A white face. Thin and long. Eyes sunk in, but light shining faintly through them. Not red. Not white. Just. abnormal. Like a shadow without light. It was approximately 7 feet tall, gaunt as a scarecrow, at the corn’s edge. Staring. Not stirring. Not winking.
I ducked, my heart pounding so hard I thought the thing could hear me. Max was barking his head off now, out of control. I crept to the front door, picked up my phone, and dialed 911.
The dispatcher inquired whether someone was attempting to enter. I replied yes — kind of. I had no idea how to explain what I’d seen. I didn’t mention the eyes. Or the height.
A sheriff’s deputy came about 15 minutes afterwards. When he flashed his light into the field, there was nothing. No tracks. No indication that anyone had been there.
He said he’d cruise through the area for the night, just in case.
I did not sleep.
Later in the morning, I discovered something in the back.
Something I did not expect.
There were drag marks in the dirt by the porch — as if something had been standing there, slowly pacing side to side. And at the edge of the cornfield? A bundle of dried cornstalks twisted together and tied with a strand of my dog’s leash.
The part we’d cut and thrown out last year.
We left six months later. Not only because of that evening, but because something was different after it. Max never even approached that door again. He’d sleep in my bed, but each night at 2 AM, he’d wake up — ears perked, eyes fixed on the window.
Nothing ever occurred again.
But I never strolled through a cornfield at night.
And I never will.
story 2: She Saw a Man in Her Window… On the 2nd Floor
Submitted by: Olivia R., Manchester, UK
I used to live in a second-floor flat, just outside Manchester. It wasn’t much — one bedroom, tiny kitchen, and a single window in my room that faced an alley.
Nothing unusual ever happened there… until one night in October.
I was up late, scrolling on my phone with the lights off. It was around 1:30 AM when I noticed something odd. My window — which I always kept shut — was open. Just slightly. Enough to let the cold air in.
I didn’t remember opening it.
I sat up, thinking maybe I forgot, but then I saw it.
A hand.
Pale fingers gripping the bottom of the window frame. Slowly, a man’s face rose into view — thin, lifeless eyes staring straight at me. No expression. No sound.
Just staring.
I screamed, scrambled for my phone, and turned the light on — but when I looked again… nothing. The window was shut. Locked. As if nothing had happened.
I called the building’s security the next morning. They reviewed the alley camera.
There was no footage of anyone outside my window.
But they did find something else.
At 1:32 AM, the hallway camera captured a man — tall, pale — walking barefoot past my door.
He never came in… and they never saw him leave.
story 3: The Closet Knocked Back… Then Opened Itself (Real Paranormal Encounter)
Submitted by: Daniel T., Oregon, USA
This happened in 2019, in a small cabin I was renting in Oregon while finishing grad school. It was deep in the woods, far from town — the kind of place that’s peaceful in daylight but terrifying at night.
The cabin had one bedroom and an old, wooden closet with a sliding door. Nothing fancy — just space to hang clothes and store a few boxes.
About two weeks into my stay, I started hearing knocking.
At first, I thought it was the old pipes or maybe animals outside. But the knocking always came from the closet. Just 2 or 3 slow knocks… usually after midnight.
I kept it shut, of course, but one night, the knocks came louder. Closer.
Like someone knocking from inside.
I grabbed a flashlight, forced myself to open the door, heart pounding.
Nothing. Just clothes swaying slightly on the rod — like they’d been moved.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
The next night, I pushed a heavy dresser in front of the closet door. Just in case. Around 1:30 AM, I was jolted awake by a loud thud — the sound of the dresser scraping across the wooden floor.
It had been moved. About a foot.
No signs of a break-in. No animals. Just cold silence… and an open closet door.
I slept in my car the rest of the week.
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