As The Raven Dreams Podcast - 5 Hair Raising Haunting Stories - Something Mimicked My Daughter (Ep 98)

Episode Date: October 21, 2020

I heard my daughter shout from down the hall, much to my surprise we were in the same room.  Sit back, Relax, and enjoy today's Collection of awesome haunting stories! All stories come with a Mild Content Warning for Language and/or Graphic content. Viewer Discretion is advised. If you have a story you'd like me to narrate, send it my way! https://astheravendreams.reddex.app/submit ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬  【Join The Nevermore】 SMASH That Thumbs Up Button! Subscribble to the Chibble! ➠ youtube.com/c/astheravendreams Audiocast on Anchor/Spotify! ➠ https://anchor.fm/astheravendreams Send me Spooky stories! ➠ https://astheravendreams.reddex.app/submit EARLY ACCESS on Patreon!  ➠ https://patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams One Time KoFi Donations  ➠  https://ko-fi.com/astheravendreams Official Merch Store ➠ https://teechip.com/stores/astheravendreams Follow me on Twitter  ➠  https://twitter.com/RavensDreamYT Join Our Discord ➠ https://discord.gg/ncT9j9H Check out my Subreddit ➠ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬  【Credits & Times】 0:00  ➠  Story By Yevrag35  ➠  https://www.reddit.com/r/Ghoststories/comments/gqwi1f/the_party/  9:57  ➠  Story By cpiglet  ➠  https://www.reddit.com/r/Ghoststories/comments/gncq64/my_very_first_playmate_was_the_blacksmiths_son/  18:20  ➠  Story By Hedgewitch31  ➠  https://www.reddit.com/r/Ghoststories/comments/fws8v0/something_mimicked_my_youngests_voice/  23:27  ➠  Story By Anonymous 25:58  ➠  Story By mlaatt  ➠  https://www.reddit.com/r/Ghoststories/comments/j5g9o9/the_previous_owner_wasnt_a_peeper/  ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬  【Disclaimer】 All stories used with permission, or under some level of Creative Commons License. Some stock footage from https://freestockfootagearchive.com. If music is not credited above, it is either free to use or original. The Music on ALL Raven Investigates videos is a modified version of  "Falling Rain" By Myuu.  Thank you to EVERYONE that watches my videos, and thank you to all my  subscribers. Have a nice day, much love, and Sleep well. --Raven.  ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬  Be sure to *subscribe* if you like any of the following; Glitch In The Matrix Stories - Cryptid Encounter Stories - Creepy Encounter Stories - Let's Not Meet Stories - Paranormal Stories - Ghost Stories - Backwoods Horror Stories - Horror Stories - Scary Stories - Scary Stories In The Rain - Scary Stories To Fall asleep to - True Scary Stories - Creepypasta - Creepy Pasta - Scifi Stories - Humanoid Encounter stories --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/support Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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20-Tourgues on $1-B-B-B-B-B-Banza DePo Minest Bonanza. DePo Minutes'i-Bonement of $10. too early to plan your summer story in Europe with WestJet, from rolling countryside to cobblestone streets. Begin your next chapter. Book your seat at westjet.com or call your travel agent. WestJet, where your story takes off. For background, this is a story I have from our family cabin in the woods. I've attached a photo of the living room in the cabin where the story takes place.

I'm keeping the exact location of the cabin concealed as three different families owned. own it and the property aside from mine. And some of them try really hard to keep this place a secret, even though the river behind the cabin is a popular kayaking destination. The cabin is situated in the middle of the woods, about a half-mile drive from the road with the only entrance, by car, being the half-mile dirt driveway. This was an experience that my father had at least ten years ago. I'm going to write it from his perspective to keep as much as what he wrote intact.

Let's say his name is Tom. An introduction. The cabin is 101 years old. It can sleep 20 guests and host parties many times that number. There is a large kitchen that can feed armies of people. There are few internal walls, no ceilings, no central heat. It is rustic. It was meant to be a hunting and fishing lodge, and to be used in the summer for family vacations.

The central room in the lodge is a huge living room. The living room is surrounded by screened in porches, and these porches are where everyone eats and sleeps. There are windows in the main room that are closed in the evening to shut the room up from the outside weather. On a normal evening, a fire is lit in the large fireplace and maintained until long, late into the evening. The room is surrounded by deerheads with the granddaddy himself, the elk, positioned above the fireplace.

His huge rack of antlers going all the way to the top of the roof, his imposing eyes watching everything that happens in this great room. The living room is the centerpiece of the lodge. With its many sitting arrangements, card tables, piano, and two fireplaces, it is the place to gather in the evenings.

Parties just naturally happen after supper. It starts with the younger kids playing games and the adults talking near the fire. Later, when the kids have gone to bed, the adult parties start. They, many times, roar into the wee hours of the morning. It's not uncommon for a few never-say-die-die-partiers to go walk down the lane, the driveway, to watch the sunrise. This room has seen 90-plus years worth it. of parties. A real shock happened when the current owners, four families, met one year to conduct our first owners meeting. Over the years, our cabin has been handed down through the

families, and its ownership has grown. The families had grown so large that each group used the place for just immediate family. The older generation of owners never met as a group. The families had grown apart, and communications had pretty much stopped. One night, sitting in front of the fireplace, the talk came around to weird happenings in the lodge. We were all shocked and fascinated to hear that each family had all similar stories and occurrences. The four of us had all heard the screen door open and closed by itself. We all knew people who had seen and felt the sleeping porch ghosts. Whatever lingering doubts about the veracity of the stories evaporated in a bone-chilling.

shock. What happened to one family was happening to the others. These stories weren't made up. They were in fact, real. Inevitably, the discussion turned to the living room. Although there were stories of strange occurrences in different parts of the lodge, and even on the surrounding property,

the living room remained the principal focal point. It was in this room that things were seen or heard more often. it was also the place where the happenings were the most intense. The piano playing itself, the old man in the chair, and of course the party. We're all common occurrences for all the groups that came and stayed at the cabin. The party has a special place in everyone's experience at our cabin.

All the families have heard it, and the way it happens is very consistent. So, let's talk about the party. It starts when the last person has gone to bed, and the lights are out throughout the building. It most often starts at three or four in the morning. The party has some distinctive aspects that everyone that has heard it agree on. We can hear people talking, but you cannot make out the words. Many hear music, but cannot discern any melody. You hear laughing, but you can't pick out one single laugh.

It's a blended background noise with no individual parts. When I first heard the party, I was sleeping on the back porch that overlooks the creek. We had over 20 people staying the night, so I, being one of the non-married males, was relegated to the couch at the dark end of the porch. The couch was located under one of the windows that looked directly into the living room. My head on the pillow was just under the windowsill. To see into the room, all I needed to do was prop up my elbows. As I laid down, I could clearly see that the living room was dark.

Everyone was in bed. I'd been sleeping for a couple of hours when I had awakened to the noise of a raucous party in the living room. It was a combination of laughter, muted voices, the general hubbub of people moving around and celebrating. In a foggy state of mind, having just awakened, I thought to myself, they're still up. As I lay there with my eyes closed, I slowly woke up fully, now coming to my full senses as I remembered that I was one of the last people to leave the living room. I turned out the lights in the room. A second thought popped into my mind. They all got back up and continued to party?

What would drive people to get back out of bed in the middle of the night and start a party? Crazy as that sounded, it had to be the answer. With that, I sat up in bed and looked through the window expecting to see my friends in full party mode. But, it was totally black. Not a light on in the room. Not a single sound coming from the other side of the window. As soon as I sat up, the sound had abruptly stopped. It was as if a switch had cut all the sound instantly.

I sat there in a daze, a peculiar feeling of, I shouldn't be here, ran through me. A feeling of dread and fear was also starting to build up in me. I had no desire to get up and investigate. I had the distinct feeling I shouldn't enter the room. This unnatural feeling that wasn't wanted was overwhelming. Another night, years later, however, I decided to sleep in the living room on one occasion. I had never heard any stories of experiencing the party when sleeping in the room itself,

mostly because I thought the room was cut off from the white noise effects of the falls in the background. Trying to sleep, I laid down on a blow-up mattress in front of the fireplace. Every time I found myself drifting off to sleep, the party would erupt all around me. I sprang out of my covers only to find the entire room still black as night with all the sound I heard gone. This happened countless times afterwards. Finally getting so fed up with it, and exhaustion kicking in, I decided to let the party continue even if I heard it. I was just going to keep my eyes closed and try to sleep through the noise.

I closed my eyes and was drifting back to sleep when, like clockwork, the party started up again. Determined to just sleep through it, I rolled over and held the cover over my head as I tried my best to simply ignore all the revelries. All of a sudden, I felt a hand on my arm and heard a voice, as day, say to me, Tom! I shot right out of my mattress only to find an empty, dark room as always. In conclusion, I knew who it was that was trying to wake me up. The voice that spoke my name and put their hand to my arm was my best friend Chuck. We always came up here deer camping early together, a good friend that I had known since seventh grade, a friend that I spent countless days hiking at the cabin, a man that has been coming to the cabin since he was a boy.

The same friend that told me the happiest days of his life were when he was up at the property. I couldn't think of a time that he wasn't here with me. He'd never missed a deer hunt or Labor Day party. A man that loved this cabin as much or more than the owners, and a man that had been dead for four years. His calling my name and grabbing my arm was a message. I didn't belong here. This is a party that I wasn't invited to, yet. This is quite a long story, and I'm leaving out a lot as it is, but maybe someone here will find it interesting. So, while this happened to me, I was so young that I don't actually remember all of this,

but I've heard it all secondhand so many times that I know the whole story. The last time it happened, with this particular ghost, is actually my earliest memory. So when I was little, the very first house I lived in as a baby was this old 18th century townhouse that my parents rented from the local doctor. Suffice to say, that place was super haunted. It's a story for another day, but three years ago they finally sealed the upper floors off entirely, and the doctor told my mom that nobody will ever set foot up there again. The bottom floor is now the GP office and waiting room.

Now all of this aside, growing up in that environment left me with a major sensitivity to spirits that is kind of still active sometimes. I'm 25 now, but when I was a kid, I terrified my entire extended family with the things I would come out with at random. Anyways, one of the more popular stories my parents tell up barbecues and parties, and just to anyone who will listen, happened when I was two. And mom wanted to pop in to visit her grandfather's grave. Her family are from a village about 20 minutes drive away, and there are two graveyards, the new one and the old one. My grandfather is buried in the old one and the old family plot. This graveyard has since been locked, and you have to get a key from the priest to get in.

So being two, I wasn't overly interested in sitting down by graveside to pray with my parents, and they were happy enough to let me wander so long as I stayed in their sight. And luckily for them, I didn't go far. I bolted down the path and stopped about halfway back among the tombstones, where I started to sort of sway on the spot and dance as much as a two-year-old as capable of. My parents watched me for a few minutes, but didn't think much of it,

and then told me we were leaving. My dad picked me up, and we headed for the gate, but just before we left, I turned over his shoulder, looked around, smiled, and then waved at something. They obviously didn't think it was anything to be concerned about, because a week later they went back. My grandfather had died the day before their wedding, four years earlier, and mom had been very close to them, so they visited fairly often.

This time when we went, I didn't even wait for permission, and ran down to the same graveside, where I began swaying on the spot again, looking up over the grave in the air as if something was suspended there. It's probably worth describing the grave, but, there's really not much to describe. It was a very small patch of earth that didn't even have a border, fairly overgrown, and with a totally rusted small iron cross at the head of it.

There was no nameplate, no indication of who was buried there, and it clearly wasn't a recent grave. Keep in mind that literally nobody is buried in this cemetery anymore, except for a couple more of my family members who went into the family plot. And at this point, my parents are creeped out. My dad, who swears blind that he does not believe in ghosts and never will, came down to ask me what I was doing. And I explained that I was dancing.

He asked me why, and I pointed above the Iron Cross, and in the jumbled English of the toddler, said, This boy is singing, and he wants me to dance. My dad picked me up, ran past my mother, and got in the car to wait for my mom. They went to my great-grandmother's house across the street and told her the whole story, but they all agreed that it sounded a bit ridiculous, the more they thought about it,

and since I was only two, it was probably just a game, so they went back. They entered through a different gate. They went over the wall, no matter what they did to try to confuse two-year-old me, I always went back to the same grave. And once again, there was nothing special about it. It wasn't beautiful or impressive. There was no reason for a two-year-old to be so drawn to this little patch of earth. But I always went straight there.

I always danced while he sang to me, and I always waved to him before I left, regardless of which side we left from or which winding pathway they took out of the place. They brought other family members with them as witnesses. They had family friends question me about it. I always told the same story. My earliest memory is of my grandmother sitting me down on the cemetery wall while I was trying to dance, as instructed, while my parents looked at me, totally scared,

and asked me to describe him or tell her what his name was. I don't think I answered her, but I remember finding the looks on their faces just so unbelievably funny because they were so scared of my friend who only wanted to sing to me. What I didn't know was that my great-grandmother had told the priest, brought him in there to show him the grave, and asked if there was any way to know who was buried in that little unmarked plot. He went off and checked the burial records, and sure enough,

five-year-old Robert, the blacksmith's son, had died of TB almost a century earlier and lay there, marked only by the little Iron Cross that his father made for him. Funnily enough, my great-grandmother knew the blacksmith, he was their next-door neighbor, but he was an old man when she was a little girl, so she never knew the little boy. My parents stopped bringing me to see my friend after that. We only went into the cemetery for funerals. We also moved out of the doctor's house, but it was a few years before I stopped being a creepy little kid that terrified anyone that spoke to me.

I actually did go back a couple of years ago, and I brought a friend of mine visiting Europe from Boston. She told me that when we met, that she could speak to ghosts, and after a couple of weeks, I started divulging the hundreds of stories I have from childhood, and she asked if she could come to the cemetery with me. Since the gate was locked, we had to hop the wall, but once we were inside, she pointed clean across the top of the headstones and said,

Hey, is it over there? pointing at its location. I nodded, and she started walking towards it. She stopped right at the Iron Cross and said, This one? I nodded again. I swear this was totally real. She stood there for a second, and then stood there for a second, and then started backing away.

I didn't have to ask her why. It was the middle of December, and yet the air seemed to fizzle and get really, really hot. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and the pressure that built up in my head made it feel like my scalp would split open. She told me that she wanted to leave, but I was already running out of there at that point.

We vaulted the wall like Olympians. I don't know what happened that day since I'm not a child anymore. and I didn't really see anything, but I couldn't shake the feeling afterwards that my little friend was there, like I had brought her with me so I could impress her, and he didn't like it, not at all. I live with my husband and our four kids.

The youngest is six, and my oldest is about to turn 11, and all but the second youngest are girls. The way that our house is set up, all of the kids' bedrooms and their bathrooms, and their bathroom are upstairs, set up in a sort of a semicircle, with the two youngest sharing a room on the very left next to the stairs, and the bathroom on the very right next to the stairs, and the other two room entrances across the small landing. Right next to the lower landing down the stairs is the entrance to the hallway that leads to

my bedroom and bathroom on the first floor. Every night, I go clockwise room to room. tucking my kids in, and after I've said goodnight to the last one, I start down the stairs and say one more time to all of them. Good night, I love you all, and sweet dreams. And they say it back to me. And then I tell them to be quiet and go to sleep. The night this happened, my son was at work with my husband. He's a truck driver, because they had the week off school just before all of these social distancing started. So my youngest was in their room. by herself. I tucked her in, and then her sisters, and was making my way downstairs and said

what I usually do, and I only heard the two oldest answer, sort of quietly, so I playfully yelled at this time to get them to answer louder, and I didn't hear the other two, but I heard my youngest clear as a bell from her dark bedroom. She sleeps in a lower bunk, where the foot faces the door, and has drawers in it, so I had no view of her, yelling it back loudly to me. I shrug a bit and think, close enough, and make my way downstairs. I immediately turn to go down the hallway to use my bathroom. My bathroom door is closed, which I thought was odd, since I always left it open unless someone was in there, and I put my hand on it's open it, just as I hear the toilet flush. I'm about to lose it myself because there should not be anyone else in my house right now,

and I walk in to see my youngest pulling her pajamas back up. My heart is still pounding at this point, and I'm extremely confused, because I literally just heard her in her bedroom. But, trying not to jump to any conclusions and stay calm-ish, I figure maybe my middle daughter is the one I heard, so I yell up the stairs, Good night, I love you, and sweet dreams. My youngest, who followed me to the bottom of the stairs,

yells it back from right beside me. I don't hear any response from upstairs. I yell up asking my middle if she's the one who yelled it back to me the second time, and she said no. I'm getting creeped out, because my youngest had obviously come downstairs after I tucked her in, so it couldn't have been her who I heard. I go upstairs and position myself so that I could see both of my older girls

and start drilling them asking which one of them answers. me the second time. They both insisted that neither of them had because they answered the first time. I asked my youngest if she had answered me the second time, wondering if maybe I just heard her voice from the wrong place somehow, and she said she had only answered the one time when I yelled from downstairs, and she was right next to me. So I asked the older two if they had heard what sounded like their little sister answering me that second time,

And they both said yes. They'd heard it. So I told them to get their bed stuff because we were camping downstairs in the living room together. I got them all set up and was on the phone with my husband, freaking out and telling him what happened. And I walk upstairs to take a look around, and the cat follows me. She walks directly into that still, dark room, looks over to their closet door. There's a history of creepy things happening with the closet in that room since we're. moved in, she then looks at the bed where my youngest sleeps, and then walks to the closet

door and starts scratching on it. She's never done this before, ever. The only time I've ever witnessed her scratching on a door as if someone doesn't realize she's in the room and shuts her inside, and she finally feels like leaving, but then can't. She's never scratched to get in to anywhere. So that was one of my strongest experience, experiences with the paranormal and definitely my most recent. I cleansed in everything, and nothing creepy has happened since. The kids all sleep in their own beds still, though sometimes they want to keep the lights on. Welcome to Vyarai. Embarked and profite.

Embarked and celebrate. Rigolet. Publié. Savour. Admire. Admire. And profite. So I've been working at a fast food place, let's call it the ringing burrito,

for six months now, going on seven. And I keep seeing weird stuff. I've slowly been noticing, like, dark figures of people who aren't there. Like, I'll see a customer while making food and then look back to say something like, hey, I'll be with you, a moment, but there's nobody there.

I know it sounds stupid, and like I'm overreacting or something. Sometimes we hear stuff, like people in the lobby when there shouldn't be, since we're closed, and other co-workers hear the noises, too. I haven't told them about the figures I see, but I'm thinking they don't see them, since sometimes I see standing figures like they're waiting or something. and I asked one of my managers once if they ever experienced some spooky stuff at work, jokingly, and she said, yeah.

She told me that sometimes when they're all taking a break, the tubs hanging above the sink will get knocked over when no one's there, or that stuff will be moved across the store. I then jokingly said that if the store was haunted, and she told me that probably, but it's most likely her, since she's had spirits and her family be active. I've then asked her if she's ever seen any, and she said no, just heard weird noises and seen stuff get knocked over.

So what I first thought is, this person has some stuff following her, but I've been seeing these figures even when she doesn't work the days I work, and before I worked with her on the same shifts. Sometimes I can see these damn figures behind other co-workers, like not touching them, but standing a nice close distance behind them. This is really scary stuff, and it's kind of making me paranoid. Like I haven't told anyone at work.

Sometimes I freak out a bit when I see one and try to act cool with my coworkers who do worry about me. Does someone know what's going on and am I actually seeing ghosts? I already put in my two weeks, so I'm ready to leave that place. We had the previous owner occupy our old house. When we moved in, I immediately hated that place because the vibe just felt off. I wouldn't be alone in the house and had to keep a light on if I went from one room to another. I told my parents about it and my dad called me daft, but my mom said nothing about it until we moved out and into our new place. She asked me why I hated the previous house so much,

and I admitted that I just felt watched an uncomfortable 24-7. The only private place where I didn't feel like I was being watched was the bathroom for some reason. My mom admitted that when we first arrived, she was unpacking boxes when she heard my dad come up behind her and ask, What are you doing? My mom replied, but when she turned to her, to look. There was no one there. She searched the house, but Dad's car wasn't in the driveway.

She was alone. This happened a few times, and she never saw who was questioning her. Meanwhile, I was getting more and more anxious, especially if I came back late from a night out. Something in that house just felt furious and disappointed in me. It wasn't until we were settled in redecorating that my mom heard someone come into her, bedroom and ask, what are you doing in my house? calmly, my mom explained, this isn't your house anymore, it's mine, and it's time for you to go, please. She never heard him again, and I began to feel less and less uneasy the more we revamped the place. The decor hadn't been touched since the 1970s, and we found out recently that before we moved

into that house. The previous owners had been the only tenants since its construction. The husband had died years before the wife passed, so I think he had stuck around to keep her company. So yeah, I guess I had a disappointed, angry grandpa living in my house, but he was polite enough to not go into the bathroom if it was occupied. Hey there, friends, I hope you all enjoyed this fantastic collection of the house. of haunted stories, haunting stories. Very interesting collection of stories here. Definitely, some of the most interesting haunting stories

I've ever read, to be honest with you. So hopefully you all enjoyed them as much as I did. If you didn't, I'm sorry. If you did, and would like more content like this, you can always join the Nevermore by subscribing to the channel, hitting the bell icon, setting that to all or recommended your choice. You can also support the Nevermore by following me on any of my social media platforms down below

or supporting the channel through Patreon or coffee, all optional, all appreciated, and all of it goes back into the channel. All right, I just want to say I love you guys. I hope you have a fantastic week, and I'll see you on the next video. But, you know, until then... Sleep well.