As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 057 - Subscriber Submitted Stories - 8 True Scary Stories

Episode Date: December 9, 2022

Hello and Welcome to the 57th episode of The ATRD Podcast! Today we have some intriguing and terrifying stories submitted by everyday people. In Today's Episode we have a few stories sent directly to me from listeners like yourself! Today's episode is shorter than normal, my apologies, I am dealing with some medical issues and wasn't able to put out a lot of content for this one.  ➤ Want your story featured? Go to https://www.astheravendreams.com/Submit ➤ Want to know where to follow me on the internet? Go to https://www.astheravendreams.com/the-nevermore for all my links! ➤ You can also get EARLY ACCESS By joining my Patreon! https://patreon.com/astheravendreams Thank you to all of the authors that have stories in today's Video...  Steven Seven, Juan, Virginia, Clint, Alex, Haunted Mom, Cjchil29, and any authors that requested anonymity.  ➤ All stories within are used w/ Either direct permission from the author- or under some level of CC license (where noted) True Stories are not verified, and should all be considered 'supposedly true'.  And Remember; You are loved, you are important, and you are valid. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. --- 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

Beyevue at board of Vyarai. Embarked and profited. Embarked and relaxes. Cirotay. Bukinay. Oh, that also. And profite. Viaray, the voice that we love. If you have a story you would like to hear featured on this podcast, please go to ashtheravendreams.com and click the button to submit your story. Also, if the platform you're listening on has the option to rate this podcast, please consider doing it. so. And thank you. I grew up in a small town in the south. We lived on the edge of a town in a one-story ranch-style house next door to a church with a large cemetery. We attended this church and

used to walk through the cemetery to services. Since there were no other homes nearby, we used to joke that our neighbors were very quiet and always home. Over the years, my mother and later my stepmother would both die in the master bedroom of this house. A few years later, my father would suffer a near fatal stroke in the same room. He had to spend six months in a rehab center learning to walk again. While he was recovering, I would go by his house to pick up the mail and check on the place. Part of Dad's rehab was learning how to safely care for himself and perform simple tasks. He was asked if there was something that he would enjoy doing,

which could be incorporated into his therapy. Dad enjoyed baking, and he was especially well known for his sour cream pound cake. The rehab center had a full working kitchen, so this would work out well. Dad gave me a list of ingredients that he needed. He also wanted me to go by the house and pick up his mixer and a cake pan for the task. I stopped by late one afternoon, picked up the mail, and started gathering up the ingredients from the pantry. also the mixer and the cake pan that he wanted. I was extra careful to check the list to make sure I had everything that he needed.

I put the list on the kitchen counter with the mixer. Then I bagged all of the ingredients and took them and the cake pan out to my car. When I returned for the mixer, the list was gone. I knew I was the only person in the house, and the only person who had been in the house for three months. I looked in my pockets. on the floor, behind and under the refrigerator, on the ground, between the house and the car, inside the car, in the bags themselves. But I could not find that list.

I thought about the cemetery that we used to joke about, and as I picked up the mixer, I said to an empty house, please bring back that list. I felt silly, but it seemed the right thing to say at the time. I could not get this incident off of my mind, but I told no one about it. The whole experience bothered me for days. Oh, by the way, Dad's Cake was a success. I continued to stop by the house each day, but I didn't find that list. That is, until about three weeks later.

I came in carrying a handful of mail, and there on the kitchen floor was that list. I froze in my tracks. I couldn't believe it. How was this possible? Where has that list been for the past three weeks? I have no explanation for this event, but a possible paranormal one. Dad got home about two months later. He did very well recovering from his stroke and was able to once again live on his own.

I would stop by every afternoon and we would have dinner together. I would see that he had what he needed and check on his general work. well-being. One afternoon, Dad was sitting in his recliner watching the early news. He switched off the TV as I sat down on the couch and asked him what he wanted for dinner. Dad said, I have something I want to ask you first. How many chairs are around the dining room table? I knew that he was referring to the round antique table and chairs that had been handed down through our family. Uh, four, I said, wondering what would bring on such an odd question. Go in there and look, he said. I walked into the dining room wondering what the hell was going on, and there neatly spaced around the table were five identical chairs. Where did the extra chair come from?

I asked, turning my head towards the den. Damned if I know, said Dad. We phoned several family members, including my sister, and asked them the same question. Everyone answered with four. We spoke very little that evening during dinner. About six months later, the sweet smell of pound cake greeted me when I came through the door, and I knew what we were having for dessert.

But that afternoon, I could tell that something was bothering Dad. When I asked him what was wrong, he told me this. I was planning on making my pound cake today, and my memory is not what it was, so I decided to find the recipe to follow. I looked through both recipe boxes and several drawers, unable to locate it. I planned to ask you to look for it when you got here. But in the middle of searching, I needed to use the restroom. So I walked back through my bedroom to the bathroom.

When I came out, the recipe was lying on my bed. Dad was visibly shaken by the experience, and he asked me to never mention it again. And I never did. Until now. By the way, that was the same bedroom that my mother and stepmother both died in, and the same bedroom that Dad would die in a year later. About a week after Dad's funeral, I was cleaning out his house alone one afternoon when I found a cardboard box, filled with pictures under his bed.

The box was yellow and dusty with age. I sat in the middle of the floor and spent half an hour looking at images that brought back long-forgotten men. I was about to put the box away for another day when I saw a picture that stopped me. I felt a cold chill go across my back as I stared at it. This picture was more than 40 years old, yet I don't remember ever seeing it before. It was of my mother staring straight into the camera, as if she knew I was looking back at her. She was holding a cup of coffee and sitting at the dining room table, surrounded by three. empty chairs. I was recently having a conversation with my mom about some things from my childhood.

And during this conversation, she asked me if I remembered the time that I was obsessed with aliens. When she mentioned it, at first, I couldn't really remember any of it at all. But then after she started talking me through the things I used to say and do, and the games I would play with my myself and my toys, it slowly started to trickle back into my memory. This was around when I was six at the oldest. At some point during that year, I started telling my mom that I was no longer a person and that I was one of them. I would refuse to elaborate on what or who the them was, but soon after I told her this,

I started asking her questions about space. I would ask her random questions about what existed in space, as if I expected her to know. And when she would tell me what she thought, I would just tell her that she was wrong, but again would refuse to elaborate. Not long after that, I started showing a major interest in anything that was space-related or alien-related when it came to toys. I would ask her for a toy rocket ship, spaceships, and I would even ask her to paint my ceiling black and put stars on it, so it looked like the night sky. I'll give her credit on that one.

She actually did paint it black and put those little glow-in-the-dark stars and planets on it. I remember my ceiling looking like that when I was young, but I don't recall that I asked for it to be like that. I thought it was just a cool thing that she had done for me when I was a kid. She said that I would play with my action figures, and every time I would play with them, there would be some sort of planned space adventure for them to go on. They would always be saying goodbye to their friends because they knew that they wouldn't be coming back. Then they would always load into their ships and would fly off into space.

There were even times where the captain of the ships would give speeches to the rest of them, talking about how important these trips were to the future of the world. Of course, with all this, my mom would always call me her little astronaut, and I would tell her that I couldn't ever be an astronaut. She would ask me why, and I once told her that I wasn't allowed to go back to space unless they came and got me. Again, no elaboration on who they were, or why I wasn't allowed back in space. Of course, all of this sounds.

like a fun and kind of cute thing a child would come up with, but after she told me about all this, the reasons for why I had this sudden interest in this came back to me. I believe that I was abducted when I was a child, and I remember a significant portion of all that happened. That night, I recall I was lying in my bed, trying to sleep, but I couldn't. Now, I was six, so I had no real understanding of insomnia or reasons as to why I wouldn't be able to sleep.

I just remember that I would close my eyes and feel like I needed to open them. At one point, I got out of bed and I remember feeling like I needed to look outside, out into the backyard. I walked over to my window and I moved the curtain to look out back. I remember getting hit with the weirdest feeling. To explain it would be incredibly difficult, but I'll say that it felt like time around me became a solid object. Like everything had slowed down to a stop, but it wasn't as if it had just slowed down.

It felt like it was being held down by something that was pliable, like an actual force. I know that that sounds weird, but it's the only way I can think, to truly explain it. I was also affected by this weird force, and I couldn't move, breathe, blink, or even really think. All I could do was stare out into the yard,

and my brain struggled to process what I saw. I know that there was this weird shadow that was moving towards me and a bright light that was above the yard, and while it was bright, it was more like it was glowing than shining. It wasn't lighting up the entire yard, but it was emanating a very bright and discernible light. I just stood there staring at it for an indiscernible amount of time, but nothing moved. I really don't know how long I stood there staring at the light, but by the time everything came to an end,

I just remember blinking and standing in the hallway of my house. For however long, I was standing in my bedroom staring. outside at this light and this moving shadow thing, and in the next moment I'm in the hallway of my house nowhere near my bedroom. I ended up confused, terrified, and I didn't know what to do. I decided to go to the living room and I ended up crying myself to sleep. I remember that much. A lot of the time after that is a bit of a blur, but my mom told me that this is when my

obsession with aliens all started. I am fully convinced that I was abducted, and I have to assume that this was some kind of alien abduction, obviously. Thinking back on it, the fact that I cannot remember anything between seeing the light and waking up in the hallway tells me that they may have done something so that I cannot remember what happened while I was with them. They clearly told me things based on what I had told my mom, like the fact that I couldn't go back to space, but I genuinely cannot remember anything past that. Obviously, I have nothing in ways of evidence to back any of this up, beyond my own memories. But I know what happened, and now that I remember it all, I cannot stop thinking about it. I know that a lot of people will disregard this story as they do, but that's okay.

They don't have to believe what I went through, so long as I remember it. I am curious to see if any of your listeners have any stories like this, and while I do want to be anonymous, I will be reading the comments when you use the story to see if anyone has a similar experience. Thank you for reading, much love, and God bless. I have always attracted strangers, as in weirdos. I've been followed, spied on, chased, but I never knew them, thankfully. The story happened when I moved in with a new roommate,

a single mom that had a six-year-old daughter and worked at a local grocery store. It sounded okay. She was renting a condo and it seemed like a good deal. So, the day that I went to move in, I opened the door to find a couple sleeping on a mattress on the living room floor. I guess I was having some temporary roommates. I'd already paid the deposit and the rent, so I went with it. They were not the problem, and actually were the people who helped me in the end.

So my new roommates and I decided to go out that first night to a club, to try and get to know each other. We were sitting in a group, and, I went across the room for the restroom or something. I was wearing basic jeans in a bulky sweater with a tiny pocket on the chest. Nothing revealing or provocative. I was standing in a crowd heading back to a group, and a young man comes up and reaches into my tiny pocket on my sweater.

I shove him away and angrily ask what does he think he's doing. His response? Looking for matches. I shove past him and go back to my group. I don't recall if I mentioned it or not, but I told them I was tired and was heading home. I got home to my new apartment, crawled into bed, and went to sleep. I'm a very light sleeper, but being tired from the move, I didn't hear them come back in or anything. But later in the night, I hear my door open slightly.

Thinking it was the roommate, I asked, What are you doing? And then I hear a man's voice saying, looking for matches, and he shuts the door. The jerk had watched where I went and picked up my roommate. It doesn't stop there. The next day I mentioned it to the people on the floor and they confirmed what happened. I told them about what he had done.

They said to tell her, which I did, but the guy was still there the next day and the next. I'd used all my money to move in, so I was stuck for the moment. I worked a lot, so I was rarely there, and when I slept, I blocked my door. I rarely saw the new roommate or her new boyfriend. Sometimes, he'd be hanging around and tried to start a conversation, but I would just ignore him and stay in my room. I asked about her sleeping with him and what she told her daughter, who shared the room with her.

She said that she told her they were exercising. That's gross. I hope that kid grew up okay. Oh, I forgot to mention that the roommate no longer had her job when I moved in. The guy's job was going into golf courses at night and scuba diving for the golf balls that were hit into the water, and then selling them back to the golf course. That's what he told the roommates, and she believed it. I don't think he actually did anything.

So, one night, I was talking to the floor people about the situation and what to do about the guy before. I paid rent again. They informed me that she had not told the owner of the condo that I lived there, and the guy had convinced her to just keep the rent money and deposit. They were planning to take my next month's rent and find a new place. She'd not paid rent and was using it to take him out all the time, so that they were gone when I was home. So basically, I was living in a place that didn't know I was there

and hadn't received any money for the rent, because some creep had failed at picking up on me but scored with my new roommate, because, as the floor people said, he was the best-looking thing that she'd ever had. The floor people were actually nice, and they helped me out by letting me know what she was up to, and were getting ready to move out as well. So I found another place to stay that week, and pretended I was going to pay rent,

but one day, when the roommates and the guy were gone, I moved out too. So thank you, floor people. I hope you guys found a good floor to sleep on and had a bright future. Lazzang sur-gillet, puissance-mojointed, we're saying that it's their dojo. Pre-a-joo? Vive the pleasure with the Ojo. The casino-on-line that proposes the more recent machine-assed-sou and games of casino in direct.

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Veil to play in a responsible. The conditions apply. One time, I snuck out to meet up with a girl around like 12 a.m. And it was my first time meeting her after talking to each other and getting to know each other for a while. At the time, it seemed like a good idea, so I headed over. and we started talking, and once I get there we meet outside and go to an empty field to play

Uno. Soon after, she offers me weed, and of course I took some, and continued to play. As we play, she starts telling me more things about her, seemingly normal things for the most part, until she starts telling me that she has bipolar disorder and how she would run with a gang in the past. in addition to all these stories of being at trap houses and seeing messed up stuff like methed-out babies. At this point, I probably should have seen the red flags, but I was too high to care. It was getting cold, so we headed back to her house. At this point, the stuff was hitting pretty hard,

so I was preparing to get jumped by some grown man as soon as I walked, but luckily I didn't. and we headed to her room. She soon started telling me that her mom's always blackout drunk and won't even hear us, so we could be as loud as we wanted. And that one time she was so drunk she had to go to the hospital, and her mom was too drunk to even answer the door when the ambulance showed up. I kind of just disregarded it and said, oh, and I moved on asking what we should do. She responded by saying that we should watercolor.

This may not sound too unusual, but she said it in a way that made my stoned brain uneasy, which got even worse as she showed me some of the drawings that she had made for me. They were paintings that looked like schizophrenic visuals, and finally she showed me one that she said was for me. It depicted a man made out of scribbles smoking and appearing as if he was sad. What really set me off was that it kind of looked like me, and the guy in the photo had a red dot on his forehead, kind of like a gun laser was pointed at it.

This really made me freak out internally, thinking that she was fantasizing my death, so I just tried to ignore it and continued painting with her as I heard what sounded like aggressive, loud banging, and some voice that I couldn't make out downstairs, as if someone was trying to get out of a room. She very quickly told me that that was. her brother who played video games all night, and would rage a lot.

At this point, I just wanted to leave, because all the bad signs were there, which set me off meeting with her ever again. I have submitted two life experiences to this channel. One was a rundown of living in a home that is haunted by my unborn child. A recent memory on Facebook reminded me of this incident, and after hearing a video you posted about creepy kids, I thought I would share. As I said above, my house is haunted. I mention this because it's relevance to the story.

Obviously, my kids and husband know as well as my parents who live next door. I've confided in a few friends and family, but it's not something I talk about, and wasn't something that any random stranger would know about, especially since I was shopping a half hour away from where I live. July 11th, 2014, I know the exact date because I immediately posted about it, which is the day after my birthday, I had gone into town to run some errands. My kids were at home with their dads, so I was enjoying some alone time. I was at Walmart, and I had passed by this mom and her son. I would say that he was around three or four years old.

The first time I passed by them, the toddler looked at it. me with this look of terror. It was quick, but it stuck with me throughout the next few aisles, as I continued to shop. Five or so minutes later, I was walking towards them again. The boy was in the cart back to me as his mom was walking in my direction. We both stopped right next to each other when I looked at this little boy and smiled politely. His eyes were huge, and he looked as if he was going to cry. I quickly looked at this little boy. I looked away because, despite being curious as to why the mere sight of me made this boy want to cry, I didn't actually want to make him cry.

As soon as I looked away, he says to his mom with a shaky voice, Mommy, hers haunted. Please, Mommy, tell her that she's haunted. They quickly walked away, and I stood there dumbfounded. If his mom said anything back to him, I didn't hear it. I wandered around the Walmart aimlessly, way longer than planned without actually ever buying anything. The thing is, I know that my house is haunted.

At this point, acknowledging that I have a ghost in my house is as normal as saying that I have cats, or acknowledging that I have two kids. It's just normal to me at this point. But hearing him say it, this little boy that I never met who could hardly string a sentence together, it just affected me for some reason. and I don't think I'll ever get the look on that little boy's face out of my head.

The sheer terror, and the fact that he knew just screwed with my head for a long time. The story takes place in the small towns of Strathmore and Porterville, California. It was late July in 2019. My family and I were celebrating my sister's Kinseniera. For those of you that don't know, a Kinsenjera is like a sweet sea, 16 for Mexican people, but the age that is celebrated as 15 instead. It was around midnight and the party was still going on. I had to get home, which was about a 10 to 15 minute drive on the main road, known as Orange Belt Drive.

I like to take the back way, however. It is a quiet, dark drive through the country that takes you over Lewis Hill. It was maybe a four-mile drive to reach the hill, At first, I was just jamming out to some modest mouse and winding down after a good night. Then, I started to get a weird feeling, like I was being watched or something. It's weird. I've never experienced this feeling on a drive before. I've driven from Virginia to California, and, at the time, I was driving to the Bay Area almost weekly, which is a three-and-a-half to four-hour drive one way.

I just got the feeling that I was going to look up into my rearview mirror and see something. I don't know what I would have seen, but I wasn't having any of it. I just simply turned down my music and turned my rear view mirror upwards, as to see the ceiling of the car. I had just crested the hill and began to start the decline, when suddenly everything turned blue. Not literally, but like a blue light was illuminating the entire car interior. I looked to my left, and there it was. I simply couldn't believe it. A bright blue fireball, the size of a shopping cart just flying level with my car window.

It kept my pace exactly and all I could say was a cheesy... Oh my God! Now, people that know me know that I cuss, a lot. I was in the Army, and I liked to think that I don't panic during a stressful situation, but that's all I could muster. Oh my God. And then, it darted straight down into the road and vanished. No explosion, no sparks upon impacts, just gone. I made it to the stop sign a couple miles down the road and called my brother,

and then my best friend, freaking out and explaining what happened. I was so sure of what I saw that my mind jumped to men in black and stuff, so I told them that if I disappeared, they would know why. I know, a pretty big reaction. The next day I drove back to the exact same spot and searched for an impact mark or even maybe a crater since I thought that it was probably a meteorite, and there was nothing.

Then I looked up at the hill and realized that the peak of the hill was at a much higher elevation than the road. For a meteorite to go at a very steep angle and then turn upward to level out with my car and match my speed, it just doesn't seem right. Ball lightning, perhaps? I don't know, but it has bugged me ever since.

I've not been able to find any story like this, and I just want an answer. Please let me know if you have ever encountered anything like this before. A friend and I, went to an old Native American burial ground when I traveled to spend time with him. It was uphill, so we hiked, and, halfway up, I heard what sounded like drums. As we reached the top, I asked my friend not to tell me where specifically the burials are, as they're not marked there, but those in that city are aware of the section of land they are buried on.

I have some sixth sensibilities, and I wanted the spirits there to show me where they were. As I walked, I felt what seemed like a child brushed past me, as if running. I continued walking and must have stepped across a burial as the image of a skeleton flashed in my mind, along with what felt like electricity. I asked my friend if I was correct in where I stood, and he affirmed that, and told me that the electrical jolt was a layline beneath us, which is why they buried their people there. It was sacred to them.

It was getting colder and had begun to rain, so we made our way back down the hillside. I stepped dead in my tracks and looked down as I noticed the footprints of a small child, beside those of a canine. We were the only ones in that area, and these footprints were barefoot. Before I could question,

question it further, we heard what sounded like the whoops and hollers of a war party coming close. Needless to say, we ran out of there pretty quickly. To this day, I believe that the child I felt earlier was that of a spirit of a young scout, running to tell his people of us. Hey, Raven, I just want to give you a quick thank you for doing the podcast. I listen to you every day at work, and it makes the day a little better, so thank you. So my girlfriend and I decided to go on a haunted house tour in a city in Ohio. The tour consisted of walking down a couple of streets and learning about the dark history of some of the houses. At the end of the tour, they let you go inside one of the houses, and for a small payment, you could go into a quiet room and talk to a psychic slash medium.

I've never done this before, so I decided to give it a shot. Before I begin the scary part of the story, I want to give some information about my past. I grew up in a small house in the country that always had what I thought was paranormal activity. Loud banging noises, cabinets and doors opening by themselves, stuff like that. My dad, who did not believe in ghosts at the time, said that he always heard voices in our barn while he would feed the cattle, but didn't tell me until I moved out. Anyway, it was my turn to go talk to the psychic. When I walked in, there was an empty, very quiet room with two chairs.

The psychic lady was in one chair and the other was directly in front of her. When she looked to see me walking in the door, she seemed to be a little skeptical. I've never had anyone look at me like this, especially someone that I just met. She almost looked like she was scared to talk to me. She began to ask me about where I grew up, how my childhood was, etc. Out of nowhere, she began to tell me that she felt that something or someone was attached to me. This is when I began to sweat and feel very uncomfortable. She continued to tell me that she kept getting the name David and that he was not a happy man.

She asked if me or my family was ever involved in racing. I said no because I only played baseball and football, and my brother and father were the same. As the psychic kept talking, she kept bringing up the fact that she felt the presence of the thing attached to me and that it didn't seem happy. In the middle of our session, there was a very loud growling sound to the right of me.

I looked over to see if there was a speaker, or something that could have made this noise, but it was just me and the psychic in this very quiet and spooky room. I know that she heard it because of the look on her face. She looked very confused and very scared. She began making a weird half-circle-like motion with her right hand, with her left hand in front of her, with her palm facing out towards me. She never said why she was doing this, and I couldn't ask because I was frozen with fear.

She couldn't have ended our session any faster. She had business cards in her lap that she gave to a few people before me, but she didn't give me one. When I walked out to meet my girlfriend, she asked me what was wrong because I was very sweaty, and she knew that something was wrong. I told her what happened, and immediately called my dad. When I told him what had happened,

there was a long silence before he spoke. He began to tell me that his father's father's father's father, father was named David. He told me that David was very abusive to his wife and kids, and that he was not a happy man. He then told me that the only thing he could remember about David was that he loved horses. He would help raise them for horse races, and always talked about how much he enjoyed it. This sent chills down my spine.

I never met David, but for some reason he seems to be watching over me. And that day with the psychic must have a little bit. upset him. So that's my story of my first and only psychic experience. P.S. After my session, I looked up what the weird hand motion that the psychic was doing meant, and, come to find out, it is a defense mechanism so that no evil or bad spirits attach to them. Hey there, friends. That was today's episode of the As the Raven Dreams podcast, and I really hope that you all enjoyed this collection of scary stories. If you did, please do consider checking out my YouTube channel

where I do these same stories, but a little bit earlier than I do them here on the podcast form, and also in slightly different collections. If you really enjoy the podcast, please do consider giving it a rating of any sort if the platform you're listening on has ratings. Any honest rating is appreciated by me, be it five-star, one-star, however,

you want to do it. Just know that rating the podcast helps tremendously. And if you would like to support further, I do have a Patreon and channel memberships if you'd like to do things on the YouTube side, where for as little as a dollar a month, they get early access to my content. Never ever expected, but always appreciated. That said, friends, I hope that I do see you on the next episode of this podcast. And of course, until then, sleep well. Thank you.