As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 081 - Scary Moving Day, Summer Camp and Middle Of Nowhere Stories - 12 True Scary Stories

Episode Date: June 30, 2023

Welcome to the chilling 81st episode of The ATRD Podcast! Today, we will step into the shadowy corners of reality, where everyday life takes an eerie twist & ordinary people experience the extraordinary. Today we will be diving into stories about The horrors of Moving day, scary things that happened at Summer camp, and True scary Middle of nowhere stories. So, turn down the lights, tune in, and let the haunting tales of everyday people take you down that dark and creepy road. Remember, these aren't just stories... these are true experiences that remind us that our world can truly be scarier than fiction. Have a Story To Submit? ➤ https://www.astheravendreams.com Or Post to the Subreddit ➤ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream Support the channel for Early Access AND more! Patreon ➤ https://patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams Join ➤ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkW0ihdMHfBUjQrMKjRto6g/join Or Check out the Merch Store! ➤ https://teechip.com/stores/astheravendreams Thank you to all of the authors that have stories in today's Video... TheReliablePessimist, Crystal, Not_Interested, Jamie, Calvin, Counselor Marty, jealousBasin00127, H. Manning, Paul, Brendan, wiiuorwii, And any authors that requested anonymity. 'As The Raven Dreams' is a community where we explore the darker parts of human existence through true and harrowing stories. From sinister encounters with strangers and stalkers, to terrifying experiences that defy explanation and unsettling mysteries that linger in the shadows, I am here to tell you the most haunting narratives ever whispered. Much Love, and Sleep Well... ----- #TrueScaryStories #AsTheRavenDreams #RedditStories ➤ Stories include a content warning for language and sensitive/disturbing content. Viewer discretion is always advised. ➤ ALL Audio of this Podcast are copyright of AS THE RAVEN DREAMS / RAVEN ADAMS and may not be duplicated, in any format, without explicit permission ➤ If you like any of the following stories, consider subscribing! - Dark Web horror stories, creepy lets not meet stories, stalker stories, Glitch In The Matrix Stories, Unexplained Horror stories, Paranormal stories, cryptid encounter stories, Crazy ex lover stories, creepy neighbor stories, quantum immortality, true scary stories from reddit, or any other True horror Stories! ➤ 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

It's never 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. If you have a story you would like to hear featured on this podcast, please go to ashtherravendreams.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

are doing so. And thank you. Reese's peanut butter cups are the greatest, but let me play devil's advocate here. Let's see. So, no, that's a good thing. That's definitely not a problem. Reces, you did it. You stumped this charming devil. Last year, my husband and I moved into a new home. We were renting a house prior, but we had some life changes that made us upsize. I was now working from home permanently, and I found out that I was pregnant.

The house we were living in was a cute little two-bedroom, but it wasn't going to be big enough for a nursery and an office. So we decided it was time to move. The house we found was nearly perfect for us. It was a rent to own, and the landlord was an older lady who seemed very kind. The rent was reasonable, and the neighbors all seemed friendly or kept to themselves, which was nice. My husband has a very demanding job.

He's also one of the top techs there, and the only one that knows how to work on a specific machine, so he doesn't get a lot of time off. Needless to say, I was pretty happy when he was able to take a week off to help with the moving. We got everything packed up prior, and with me, be able to be able to take a week off to help with the moving. being limited on what I could do, we had to get a lot of help. My dad, brother, and sister-in-law came over, and they helped some during the weekend. We were able to get a good chunk of our stuff moved. One of the days that my family wasn't available, my husband, not wanting to break his back alone, hired a moving company to help.

He found a company that didn't charge an insane amount, and they were bright and early to help. There were three guys, and they helped a lot. They were all very considerate of our belongings. They asked where everything went before moving it or setting it down, and they even moved some of our bigger things like the washer and dryer, which was nice. When they followed us to our new place, they had me direct them where everything would go.

One of the guys noticed that I was pregnant and started asking me about the baby. and even brought up how he remembered when his wife was expecting two and some of the things that she went through. This was our first child, so it was interesting to hear about some of it. The good and the bad, and getting to tease my husband about what he would go through too was all fun. Then, at the end of the job, that same mover asked us if we needed anything else done before they left, such as moving anything to the garage to make it easier on us or anything like that. It was past their time that they were supposed to be there, and I really appreciated him going the extra mile to help us.

So after they left, we were emailed a survey about our experience and how they handled themselves and our stuff, and I gave them a great review. They'd really made the whole moving out so much easier for us. I even specifically called out the one mover by name, Alec, and mentioned how much I appreciated him. My husband and I began moving the smaller stuff, like boxes and bags, in between working, until the following weekend. We had things planned out, so that we would have the whole month to move our stuff and not worry about having to rush it. However, the landlord at our old place sold the house faster than anyone again.

expected, and now we had to rush around to finish. It was bad timing for us, because my husband was back at work, unable to really take more time off. I wasn't much help, so my husband said that we should just get the moving company again since they did so well the first time, and I didn't hesitate to call them. We didn't have much left in ways of larger things to grab, but we did still have a little bit. lot of boxes and most of the basement to move. So, the movers were just going to make a quick job out of it. When they showed up, it was two guys instead of three, and Alec was there again.

I greeted them like normal and explained what we were needing done. As they started clearing out our old place, I locked the doors and turned around to see Alex standing there, and it startled me, as I thought. thought he had gotten in the truck. He said that they received notice of surveys, and when there was one specifically calling him out, he knew that it had to be me. He thanked me for being so kind as it would help him move up

and then mentioned how kind I was. It was a bit awkward for me, not knowing how to respond, but I was polite and said that it wasn't a big deal, and that I liked to share when I have a good experience, unlike how some people just share the bad. He smiled and agreed, and then we both got into our vehicles. We then met back at our new home, and I directed them on where to put all the boxes,

just like last time. The second mover was finishing up, putting away their dolly and straps, Aunt Alec was in my living room, making sure everything was in its place again, and asking if there was anything else I needed. I told him everything was fine and that I again appreciated their help, especially on such short notice. He was standing by the door and I was basically walking him out when he turned around and asked me about getting dinner sometime. I didn't really know how to respond to this, so I just kind of chuckled and said, Um, you know that I'm married, so...

And, of all the responses he could have said, I did not expect him to laugh and say, Yeah, so am I. It was really alarming to me that my comments didn't dissuade him, especially with him admitting that he was married too. Then I realized how vulnerable I was at that point. I was alone with him in my home, six months pregnant. His partner was outside, and who knows if he would be able to hear him, if he tried something.

I tried to stay calm, not allowing my fear and discomfort to show, and just said no thank you, as I again motioned him to the door to leave. He walked right up to me, with his chest nearly touching mine, and looked down at me. He was a huge man. My husband was tall, and I know that I'm also short at barely five feet, but he nearly towered over me. I just looked down at the floor and mustered out, Um, can you please leave now?

Smiling, he told me that if I ever changed my mind, to just call him. And he handed me a piece of paper with a phone number written on it and then walked out. I swear I was holding my breath until I saw him get in that truck and they drove off. I immediately locked the door and closed the garage. Now paranoid that he might try something and come back, I called my husband and told him what happened, and he was furious. He told his boss that he had an emergency and left, even though I told him that he didn't have to, but really I was kind of glad he did.

I didn't want to be alone. When he got home, he told me that he went up to the moving company and complained about what happened. He specifically pointed out, who was there at the time, and yelled out for him to stay away from us. He said that Alec just had a smirk on his face the entire time and walked out of view. The owner then took down his information, saying that they would take appropriate action, and apologized.

We wouldn't need any help moving anything else, as everything was moved now. We just had to do some small cleaning at the old place again, so hopefully we would just never see Alec or anyone there again. At least, that's what I was hoping would happen. It was probably a few days after that event happened. We were in our new place,

exhausted from unpacking and putting together a crib, and we went to bed pretty late. I woke up in the middle of the night as I often did, but I was feeling incredibly thirsty. So I walked downstairs to get some water.

As I pulled out the pitcher, I got this very uneasy feeling, almost like a sense of dread that just engulfed me. I immediately looked around the kitchen and didn't see anything that stood out to me. I also only had the light on over the stove, so while there was some light, it wasn't very well lit. I started walking towards the wall with the light switch when something seemed to catch my eye. I thought I saw something move in the window. The window looked out into the side of the yard, but there was a wraparound porch so you could reach it and look into the kitchen from the outside. I was pretty well freaked out at this point, but I tried to keep calm and tell myself that it was just the shadows playing tricks on my eyes.

So I continued walking towards the light switch without taking my eyes off the window, and right as I flipped it, I saw someone run by the window, which caused the motion. and censored porch lights to kick on. I screamed and ran towards the front room, in the direction that the guy ran to see if I could at least get a look at the guy. As I was looking out the window, my husband ran downstairs and asked what happened. I barely got...

I saw someone out before my husband ran out the door. I grabbed my phone to call the cops and was trying to get my husband back inside, worried what this guy could possibly do. do or have on him. Once he was finally back in, we waited for them to show up, and they patrolled the area. They came back, sadly informing us they never found anyone, but that they would keep looking. They also told us to call immediately if this person never came back.

We were both fully awake at this point, and I was terrified. We had just moved in, and we were already having someone looming around our backyard. I was worried if it was someone trying to case the place since we were new, but then another thought crossed my mind. I worried if it could have been Alec. With the way he acted towards me and the fact that my husband had reported him, he could have easily been trying to get revenge. Unfortunately, we never really had a conclusion about the person at our place because it never happened again. But I'm also thankful and relieved for that. We put up cameras all over our yard and driveway, but the most we saw were a few people walking by,

and there was one person who stopped and just stared at our place, but that was it. It was a rough few weeks there in the beginning, as I was constantly worried about it happening again. My husband put his number on the paperwork for the movers, and he did start receiving some prank calls, so we're pretty sure it's related. In the meantime, we've moved on, but I just get a shiver anytime I see one of their moving trucks to this day. I guess from here on I'll just rely on friends and family if we have to move again. Lazzang sur-gillet, puissance-molyne for 15 minutes. We're like it's their dojo.

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that still gives me some chills to this day but I've never really shared it with anyone. No real reason. I just don't like to think about it.

and typing this out requires me to do so. If some of this sounds disjointed, I do apologize. I'm not a very good writer. But I'll try to give this as much detail as possible. Anyways, here goes. I was working a consulting gig in Texas back during the pandemic. It was remote, but I knew that at some point, I was going to have to drive to the main site to give the presentation that I found,

during my consultation. I've done this before with other clients, but this was my first on-site during the years of COVID, so I was a bit iffy on this whole trip anyways. But what happened really cemented that I should have just demanded a remote presentation. The night this happened, I was most the way to my hotel,

and I really didn't want to stop, as it was only about an hour or so to get there. but I was also feeling nervous as the roads that I was driving were incredibly empty and remote. I was driving feeling like I was going to hit a wall soon, and I noticed that Google Maps showed an alternate route to the hotel from where I was. That was even more rural, but was about ten minutes quicker. I quickly hit the button and made the next turn to take that route instead. The roads were incredibly empty and dark, pretty much just a random strip of asphalt that cut through the Texan wilderness.

A couple of minutes down this road, I spotted what looked like a figure on the side of the road. I slowed down a bit and noticed that it was a woman, frantically waving her arms in the glow of my headlights. I could feel my heart rate increasing as I stopped to see if she was okay. I really didn't want to, but I couldn't have lived with myself if something happened, and I could have helped her. She was middle-aged, her hair was a wild mess, and her eyes were wide with panic. She immediately started babbling a mile a minute, frantically screaming about anything and everything. Until she finally stopped, took a deep breath, and said that she had just been in a car crash. She followed that up with sobs, saying that she had driven off the road,

that she'd somehow flipped her car and that her husband was still trapped inside, and she needed my help. The story was believable, but something about it still seemed off. She had some bruises on her face, but other than that, she'd just looked pretty well untouched. She didn't have any cuts, her clothes weren't torn or dirty. and she didn't look too injured, though I will say that adrenaline can do some wild things. I also didn't see a car behind her,

but if she had driven off the road and flipped it, it could have been deeper into the woods. I started asking her some questions to gather more information, trying to piece together the situation. She was cagey with details, first saying that she had fallen asleep and veered off the road. I mentioned that I could call 911 for her and wait until they showed up, but she cut me off. However, this is where she slipped up, saying,

Please, hurry, my son really needs help. He's still trapped down there. I froze. She'd said her husband was trapped, not her son. Sensing that something was off, I made a split-second decision. I looked at my phone and said, I don't have a good enough signal to call 911 right here. Let me drive a bit further down the road to make the call. She became frantic when I said this, urging me to come with her,

getting to the point that her sobbing became an angry screaming at me to get out of the car. I shifted back in to drive and started down the road, hitting the gas pedal as quickly as I could. I could hear her continuing her screams as I watched her waving her arms at me in the rear view. About 20 feet down the road, a man then jumped out of the tree line. I watched him jump out and hurl something at my car, which was followed by a sickening thud and a shattering sound. A brick, what I'm assuming is what he threw, had smashed into my windshield, sticking into the glass but not breaking through it. I slammed on the gas, freaking out and realizing this whole thing.

was a massive setup that I almost fell for. I looked back again and saw the two people in the middle of the road, arguing with each other and making very aggressive motions towards each other and the direction that I was going. The rest of that drive was an honest blur. I was in shock, shaking, and sweating, the brick just sitting there in my windshield, blocking the right half of my vision. I got to the hotel, which was about 30 minutes away,

from where I was, and I asked the front desk to call the authorities. I just sat in the lobby chair breathing heavily and thinking about what happened. They took my statement and promised to check it out, but as far as I know, they never found anything. They did call me in the morning and told me that they found a spot on the road that I'd mentioned, where there was a lot of broken glass, but there was nobody anywhere nearby. Obviously, that trip was a bit stressful, as I was three states away from home in my personal car with a now shattered windshield, and I still had to give my presentation. I did give the presentation, and I actually mentioned what happened, and thankfully the client was willing to give me a little bit of wiggle room, considering my stress levels. I had the windshield replaced in Texas.

thankfully my insurance was willing to cover it since they had a police report number, and the report did explain things pretty well. I've since pushed all my clients to do remote presentations, and thankfully they've mostly been okay with it, including the extra work that I've done for that same client down in Texas. Regardless, I will never drive through those empty parts of Texas at night, ever again. I'm not typically one to share personal stories online, but I have a bit of a bizarre and frankly terrifying event that I experienced during a move several years ago.

It genuinely freaked me out, because it could have gone much, much worse, and I think that I got really lucky with how it all actually played out in the end. So several years ago, my boyfriend and I were preparing to move into a little bit of a little bit of, a new place. He ended up having to work through most of the days that we were planning on moving, so most of the packing, boxing, and actual moving of things from one place to another, fell solely on my shoulders. He recommended that we just hire someone, or ask my brother for help, but as stubborn as I am, I absolutely refused to let anyone touch my stuff. I assured him that I could

handle it and that I would get it done while he was at work. One of the days, in the midst of our move, I had packed up most of the rooms into boxes, and most of them had large stacks of all our things in said boxes sitting in the middle of the room. I was working on the bedroom at this point. It was the last room that we needed to get packed, since it was the main room we were still using. I was standing there, emptying the dresser, when I thought that. I'd started hearing talking. Initially, I shrugged it off as possibly coming from outside, thinking that I may have just left

the upstairs window open. The more I listened, though, it became rather clear that the voices were coming from upstairs, inside the house. A chill ran down my spine when I was hit with that sudden realization that I was not alone inside my house. Part of me wanted to shout. shout out, ask who it was, but then it kind of clicked that these two people had broken into this house, in the middle of the day. They probably weren't there for conversation. I quickly

jumped into the closet having to squeeze through the stack of boxes that I'd placed in front of it and shut the door, just standing there with my heart beating hard. I could hear the intruders walking through the house, stepping through the kitchen, and then I heard them walk down the steps and into the bedroom. As they walked into the room, one of them, his voice, scratchy and gruff, asked, "'You sure this is where he said they lived? These people look like they're moving. I don't think they were going anywhere.'

The second voice responded with, uh, yeah, I'm pretty sure. They went quiet as if they were waiting for something, and after a few moments, I heard one of them rummaging through one of the boxes outside the closet. He started making joking comments about my clothes and items, which really made it that much worse. Not only was I scared out of my mind, this guy was violating my privacy and handling my underwear. This whole thing felt surreal. Like, was this really happening? Was this some kind of messed up joke or something?

After a few minutes of him commenting on my stuff, and the second guy, huffing impatiently, the second voice said, You know what, let me go call him and make sure. Something seems off about this. The silence after that was deafening, punctuated only by the remaining intruders' casual rifling through my boxes. I could barely even breathe, fearing that if I did, I would give myself away.

When the other guy came back, his voice sounded way more urgent than before. Hey, dude, come on, we got the wrong house. I wrote the address down wrong. The other man chuckled and said something like, Damn, man, that could have been bad. Imagine if they were home and we got the wrong person. Then, their voices trailed off as they walked upstairs and out of the house.

I stayed huddled in that closet for a while longer, too terrified to move. when I finally got my nerves up to step out, the house was completely silent. I quickly checked the hallway and bolted into the garage to grab my cell phone from the van and called 911. The police arrived, they took my information, and they checked the whole house for me. They asked if I had seen the two guys and I told them that I hadn't because I had hidden in the closet. I told them what the guys had said and obviously, they were concerned. They told me they would do what they could to find them, but with how little I could give them,

I doubt they ever did. Nothing was stolen. Nothing was disturbed outside of the items in the box the guy was going through, and nothing happened during the rest of that week. I couldn't have been more thankful to have been moving out of that place. The memory of this still unsettles me, and it absolutely taught me a very value of lesson. Lock the door. Always make sure it's locked if you're not near it. There was no forced entry, so they walked right into the house with literally no issues. I have no idea what they

were planning on doing, but based on the conversation, I could be pretty certain that their intentions were not good. I feel bad for whoever it was. they were looking for, but I'm glad that I never had to see them again. When I was around 10 or 11, my parents sent me to a nice little summer camp. I don't want to use its real name, because I don't know if it still exists. So we'll just call it whispering pine summer camp for the sake of the story. I only went to the one year. It was something that one of my parents' friends had.

had mentioned, and my parents thought that it would be a good way to help me socialize and develop. It was your basic old school and rustic camp, tucked away in the forests of the northeast. The cabins were super old, but the lake was really nice, though. A bit cold for my taste, but it was still really pretty. I can remember the woods like it was yesterday, too. It was just really gorgeous and lined with pine trees. trees. One night, about two weeks into camp, I woke up abruptly. I wasn't sure why. It wasn't like I'd had a nightmare or heard a noise or anything, but I had this really weird feeling deep

in the pit of my stomach. It was like I woke up and needed to get up, but had no idea as to why. I sat up on my bed and looked around to see if anyone else had been awoken, but no. They were all still asleep. The cabin was dark, but the moonlight was shining in through the curtains and was illuminating a good portion near where my bed was. I remember it being almost ethereal, I think, is the word, as it just shimmered down into our cabin. As I sat there, something made me feel like I needed to get up and go over to the window. I didn't think there would be anything out there, but for some reason, I felt like I needed to go check.

I jumped up to my feet and trotted over to the window to look outside. For the most part, all I could see was the gorgeous moonlit pine trees. But as I focused a bit more, trying to get the sleep out of my eyes, I noticed a figure in the fringe of the tree line. It was a bit hazy with the moonlight, but as I stared, I started to see what was unmistakably my own. likeness, just standing there, as if it were staring at the cabin, staring at me. I blinked, rubbed my eyes, but yet it was still standing there.

It was almost awkward, just standing there and standing at the window, staring at what looked like me standing out in the trees. We just stared at each other for several moments, until I started this. thinking, I should go see who that is out there. I almost felt like I was drawn to the door, moth to the flame kind of thing. I tiptoed to the door trying to make as little noise as possible, trying to not wake the counselor up.

I opened the door and stepped out onto the stoop of the cabin, and much to my surprise, the figure was still standing there, unflinching, and not shifting its gaze at all. Now, I want to reiterate that this figure was me. I don't mean that it looked like me. I mean that it was an exact copy of me.

It had the same hairstyle. It was wearing the same Whispering Pine's T-shirt that I went to bed in, the same Disney character pajama pants. This figure was an exact copy of me. just standing there in the woods, watching me walk out of the cabin. I stopped at the bottom of the stoop, probably 35 or 40 feet from this thing, and my heart was racing. Part of me wanted to call out to confront this copy, but something in my mind was telling me to go back inside, not go anywhere near this thing, and that I needed to forget this ever happened.

I started walking up the cabin steps, never looking away from this thing, and I walked back inside the cabin. When I got back to the window and peered out, this figure was still standing there and looking in my direction. I got back into bed, and I just thought that if I went to sleep and forgot about it, it wouldn't hurt me. Morning eventually did come, and when I got up out of bed, everything felt normal again. The camp woke up to another day of their activities and such, and for a moment, I was thinking that I just had a really weird dream. That is, until I got outside. There, in the very spot where the doppelganger had been standing, was the gruesome sight of a dead rabbit. It was a mess.

I won't describe it, but just say that it was nothing shy of unsettling. The sight of it made me feel sick. The whole thing that happened that night before kind of flooded back with a vivid clarity. To this day, I still have no explanation for what happened that night. Why did I see myself standing there in the woods? What did it mean? And what was with the rabbit? There are far too many unanswered questions for me to be comfortable with this situation.

This may have been a long time ago, but... It was truly the creepiest experience of my life, one that will forever be etched into my memory. While I was helping a friend move a few months ago, it reminded me of something I personally experienced, and I wanted to send it to you. I guess, while it may not have necessarily been creepy throughout, the possibilities of what could have happened definitely could be.

Okay, so, this was back in 2019. I had just gotten everything finalized on this duplex that I was going to be moving into. It was in a nice community in the middle of one of the more populated cities in my state, which made it super easy to go anywhere. The duplexes, however, were all individually owned, or in my case, through a middleman. There was an owner, but all the property management, and whatnot went through a rental company.

They were easy to work with, and I was pretty excited to get moved in. The first day of moving in, I was pretty excited, so I'd gotten a U-Haul the day before and filled it with as much as my little self could. I lived alone, and that wasn't changing, so it was just me for the most of it. I had a few friends that were going to help me over the weekend, but I wanted to at least get started on it. I met the rental lady that I had been working with at the new place where we did the move-in walk-through, signed the final papers, and I was given the keys.

As the woman left, I noticed the people across the street were sitting outside, watching me. It looked like just a middle-aged couple, and they waved, so I waved back. I was walking through my new place and talking to my mom on the phone as I got out those last bit of new home jitters, before I started unloading the truck. It was probably about 10, 15 minutes that we were talking before we finally hung up. I wanted to bring stuff in through the garage since it was connected. So, as I opened the garage door, I saw feet on the other side. When it came up enough, I realized it was the neighbors from across the street that had waved at me.

It was pretty fast, but... I figured by the kind smile on their face that they were probably just the sociable and outgoing type, eager to meet their new neighbor. They introduced themselves, and, to keep it simple, I'll just call them the Jacksons. I told them my name and we started out with a pretty simple conversation. They asked if I was from the area, or out of state, and I told them that I used to live in the next city, which was only about half an hour away. They asked me how I found out about the place that was for sale, and I told them that it was actually for rent, and that I found it through a realty company online.

I thought the question was a little odd, but maybe they were just curious. Then they asked me if I had heard anything about the neighborhood. I was confused by this question because I really didn't know what they meant. I just said that I didn't really know anything about this place, other than I was confused by this question, because I really didn't know anything about this place, other than it being in a convenient part of the city, and the rent was within my range. That led them to ask me what was within my range. This caught me off guard because I just met these people,

and they were wanting to talk about money and income. I just said less than two grand and laughed, and so did they. It was kind of awkward to me after that, so I just said, well, it was nice meeting you two. and shuffled towards the back of the truck to make myself busy. They stood there for a few minutes whispering something to each other, then smiled and walked away. My first thought was, great, I've got some nosy and intrusive neighbors.

At least they're across the street. I got the truck unloaded into the garage, and before I started sorting them into their designated rooms, I grabbed a box from my bathroom and unpacked it. I wanted to grab a rag to put on my nose, neck because it was a very hot day. As I walked back out to the garage, I realized I had left the door open, and there were two new people standing at the edge of my garage, very obviously, looking in at my stuff.

I kind of laughed, thinking of how these people all seemed to be very nosy, and then greeted them. They said hi and apologized, saying they were looking for me to introduce themselves. They were my neighbors to the right, and they were my neighbors to the right, and they and we'll just call them the Smiths. It was an older man and woman, at least compared to the Jackson's. I would guess probably in their 60s or 70s. They said that it was just them at home with their four Pomeranian pups

because their kids had moved on a long time ago. They asked me where my other half was, and I told them that I didn't have one, that I lived alone, other than my two iguanas, which I hadn't brought over yet. Miss Smith didn't like the idea that I had lizards by the look on her face, but, to be honest, and I thought maybe that would make them just leave me alone. After her soured face, she then tried asking me if I was planning on getting married or having kids.

My parents haven't even asked or pressured me about that, so I just hesitated on responding and said that I hadn't really thought about it. So she said that I should really think about it. it because children are very important for the future and their community. It was already a weird comment, so I didn't catch the whole community part at first. I just said that I would keep it in mind. Before I could put a stop to the conversation, Mr. Smith laughed and made a comment about how they shouldn't overwhelm me so fast, as we had plenty of time to get to know each other.

I nodded in agreement and said that I should probably get back to work. thinking maybe he thought she was being too much too. But as I was going to wrap it up too, Miss Smith turned and said, Oh, I almost forgot to ask. What do you think of our president? She had a huge smile on her face, as did Mr. Smith. And they both just stared at me waiting for a response.

Now, I'm not one to really talk about politics, but who asks something like that within the first ten minutes of meeting somebody? I just stammered for a bit and said, You know, I'm not sure I'm quite ready to talk about that yet. And again laughed a bit, and they were the ones to have a softer, awkward kind of laugh. They asked the question. We all just sort of walked away from that,

and I left thinking how freaking weird my new neighbors were. All their questions have been so far out of left field, not to mention weird and inappropriate, too. I just quickly shut the garage door, ready to not have any more interactions with them. One of the things that I didn't get moved was my bed along with some other bigger items, so once I finished sorting, I went to leave and go back to my old place for the night. As I was getting in the truck, I heard someone hollering, so I turned around to see. a man swiftly walking towards me. He looked around the age of the Jackson's,

and as he approached, he told me that he was the neighbor to the left, and we'll just call him Pastor Wilson. Obviously, he said he was the pastor for their local church, and even mentioned how the Jacksons and the Smiths attended the same church. He said that wasn't him trying to get me to join them, but just wanted me to know, as this was just to introduce himself.

A bit burnt out at this point, I just gave my name and greeted him back. He asked where I was from, and then actually asked me some pretty normal questions. It was definitely refreshing, because I felt like I could just have a conversation with him. He even mentioned that he had his own plumbing business, and if I ever needed anything, he would be willing to take a look for me, so I thanked him. That's when he brought up the previous tenant. He said that I seemed a lot nicer and open-minded than the lady that lived there before me. I laughed again and said something like,

Huh, yeah? Not really expecting that to open another weird conversation. He mentioned how she was very nice and open with the community until she started becoming very hostile, so they had to report her. He claimed that she then became reclusive and seemingly moved out one night without anyone noticing. I said that definitely seemed odd, and that was it. The conversation again started dying down, so he said he would leave me to it, but then mentioned that Ms. Smith told him I was single,

and he said that he also helps with matchmaking in their community, and pulled out a pamphlet. He said that he would be happy to sit down with me to start an interview about helping to look for a future husband. Pretty fed up at this point. I told him I was happy with myself, that I wasn't looking for a partner at the time, but thanked him for his time. Once again, he mentioned how time was running out for me and that children are needed for the community. I just dropped the pamphlet in front of him, told him I was gay, and got into the truck.

The shock on his face as I drove away, though, that was pretty satisfying. All of this, everything that I just mentioned, happened literally on the first day of getting the keys to my new place. I wasn't even finished moving in yet, and they were already making me have regrets, and I hated it. However, I called a good friend of mine and told him everything that happened, and they made me recall how many times they referred to the community. They said that it seemed odd to say that instead of just the neighborhood, or even the country, like when they mentioned the children being important to the community. That's when they mentioned how creepy and cultish it sounded, and I couldn't disagree with that.

So we both started looking into the previous owner of the place. My friend was very good at finding people, and sure enough, we were able to find a woman that used to live there a few years prior to me. We actually found her on Facebook, and I sent her a message hoping that she would respond and be able to answer some questions. It took about a week, but she did finally respond. She said that she didn't like to talk about it, but we were right.

She said that she owned the place and sold it to the first person that she could, who then went through the leasing company that I went through. She said that they seemed nice at first and invited her to their community, and they had some very sketchy and creepy requirements. She said that it was pretty traumatizing for her, so she didn't want to get into it, but she did say to not give them any detailed information about myself and to distance myself from them as much as possible.

She also said not to accept any gifts or favors from them, as they will harass you saying that you owe them. When she tried to leave their little community, they made her life hell. They were always walking around her place, trying to look into windows or wherever they could, They would call her non-stop, just all kinds of stuff. I was appalled after hearing all of this.

I just got this place, and now I want it out. I called my leasing lady who said that I unfortunately really couldn't cancel or back out of it without losing a lot of money, but apologized because she said they had no idea about the neighborhood, nor how much of that was true. I thought that was kind of weird because, why would the previous owner lie about that? She had nothing to lose or gain from it.

So overall, I just had to make it at least through the year, which I was thankful that I didn't sign a longer lease. I kept my guard up all the time while I was at home, making sure that all windows and doors were locked, and the curtains were nearly always closed. I even put cameras up not wanting to take any chances. I never bought into their gimmicks, even though they tried for a few months, but after that, they seemed to do the same to me. There was always someone outside when I was, and that person would be on the phone.

If I had someone over, I would end up with a pamphlet on my door talking about different sins. If I had more than two people over, the cops would be at my door talking about a noise complaint. Nothing would happen, though, because I didn't have parties at my place. I didn't want my friends to be harassed by them, so they would just always leave. So, that year was pretty hard for me, but I know the previous owner must have had it much worse, since she wasn't willing to talk about it. I moved out since then, and I love where I'm at now, and my neighbors are a million times better. But I can't help thinking, what the hell do those people do?

Sometimes, I wish I could just be a fly on a wall. Biennue at board of Viarai. Embarked and profite. Embarked and relaxe. Ciroat. Bookine. Oh, so also. And profite. Villaray, the voice that we love. Reese's peanut butter cups are the greatest, but let me play devil's advocate here. Let's see, so, no, that's a good thing. That's definitely not a problem.

Reese's you did it. You stumped this charming devil. At the time, I was moving out of my ex-boyfriend's house. It didn't end badly or anything. We're just different people who wanted different things in life. And that being said, feelings were. still sore and I planned to move out while he was at work. I told him this, and I told him which pieces of furniture I was taking.

He bought the dryer that I bought for the place from me. Since I wouldn't be able to handle everything on my own, I booked a moving company who had a truck and two movers to lift the heavier items. Everything I had was either in boxes or wrapped ready to go. The two men knocked. I opened the door, said hello. We began to put things in the delivery truck. I locked up and gave the address to the new place.

I followed behind the truck in my car, and I swear, every song that I heard on the radio was reminding me of my ex. They pulled up in front of the house, I parked in the driveway. I asked if they wanted me to move my car so that it would be easier, and they said that they were fine. I began moving things inside. Boxes were everywhere, and they were helping me with the heavier furniture. Soon, we were done.

I tipped them and gave them drinks to say thank you, and they gave me the receipt and paperwork. I closed the door and started working on getting things prepared around the house. I got my bed set up so that I'd have somewhere to crash. The kitchen was priority for me. I was taking the plates out of box. when I looked over and saw that the delivery truck was still sitting there. I thought it was a bit strange. Surely they had other deliveries they needed to tend to.

It was now the late afternoon, and they were still sitting there. I was tempted to text the company and see what it was about, but I really didn't want any potential confrontations. I've never really been good with them. I kept working on getting things. done, had some food delivered, and ate it on my bed while watching some Netflix on my laptop. I went to take my leftovers into the kitchen when I noticed that not only was the truck still there, but this time it was blocking my driveway.

I instantly knew that I wasn't going to be able to get into my car and just drive away. They had blocked me in. I actually saw them peeking through the windows and heard them talk. walking. I ran to the bathroom, locked the door, and called the police. I stayed on the phone with them until I heard the police show up. I was terrified, but thankful that I had locked all the windows and doors before settling down. So, as it turns out, it was actually part of a scam. They would deliver items, scope the place out, and then come back to rob the place later, since they got to see what items you had that were the most valuable while they were delivering.

These two weren't very intelligent, though. It's been years, so I can't remember how long they'd been doing it, but the company was shut down, and naturally, I felt like an idiot. I was so grateful that nothing had happened to me and that I was safe. While some of their other victims, they'd actually gotten violent with them. and even put someone in the hospital. So, yeah, I guess make sure you check the reviews for any moving companies you work with, and always remember to lock your doors.

Hey, Raven, it's Ollie from some of your other stories. It was 4 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon. Me and my friends were going cycling to a neighboring town. However, we switched plans and decided to go on an aimless cycle. We cycled along the highway and then some streets and then a road. We were miles from home. Having the chili peppers playing in your ears as you cycle aimlessly is honestly pretty great. Eventually the town that we were in started to get less and less urban,

until we were just cycling along a farm road with no buildings to be seen for miles. At some point we saw a town come into view. We could see the entire town from where we were, so we knew it was small. And it definitely was. There were no cars driving about, despite the countless cars parked outside houses. We got into the town and realized that every single shop was closed. There were quite a few, for how small the town was. In their defense, it was a Sunday.

The center of town was nothing more than a small monument for someone that I'd never heard of, nor can remember. It was already turning evening, and with it being January, it was already getting dark. I needed to eat something quick. My friends and I looked all over trying to find a place to eat. It might have just been paranoia, but honestly it felt like the few people that we did see around town were staring at us. They might have just been surprised to see new people in this crack shack of a town. Eventually, we found a single open takeout. It was small and locally owned.

Some of my friends decided that they would rather wait until they went home to eat than to eat here. Me and my friend, who, well, simply called Charlie, stayed. The pizza that I ordered came quick. I guess it was probably just frozen. It was all right, nothing special. On the other hand, Charlie's kebab took at least 45 minutes. The girl at the counter only looked a couple of years older than us, but acted as if we were aliens or something.

I kept glimpsing at her staring at me and then turning away quickly. By the time that we left the takeout, it was already dark. We were hungry, so we began eating right away. It was then that Charlie started complaining about the food. I've never been a huge fan of kebabs, but I still like them in some way. I asked to try it, and he let me. At first it was fine. Then suddenly a horrible taste washed over my mouth.

It was overly salty and yet sickly sweet. Was it the sauce? No, it had texture. I told Charlie that it was definitely just one ingredient, that was ruining it. He agreed and started poking about the kebab. We both noticed what we knew was the strange ingredient at the same time. The meat? It was gray.

And that's the best thing about it. It was thinly sliced into squares. It almost looked like beef jerky, only it hadn't been dried. We thought that there were green spots on it, but that could have just been the other ingredients on it. I decided to taste the meat on its own. Sure enough, it was what we had tasted. I spat it out, but there was no way of telling what meat that it was. Was it chicken crushed into a chicken foam?

Beef, pork? Who knows? All we know is that it tasted awful. The consistency was even worse. It was like spam morphing into clay. Charlie threw it in the bin, and I shared my pizza with him. On the way back we meet our friends, and I again noticed that everyone was staring at Charlie and I. We both wanted to leave.

We got back with our friends, and they told us the same thing. The people had been giving them strange looks all day. We took our bikes from the rack that we had put them in, and we left. As we were leaving, the number of abandoned buildings began to dawn on me. I hadn't noticed that they were abandoned on the way into the town, but, Now I did. The streets were laid out strangely, with several uncomfortable turns and such. The roads were desolate, riddled with potholes.

I was lucky that I had Google, otherwise I'd be completely lost. As I checked Google Maps, I realized how out of the way this town was. You could see on the map that there were several towns all connected by roads, but the town we were in was only connected by one single road leading to it, and nothing else. If you've ever seen the map of a town, you'll understand that this isn't normal by any means. We left the town and cycled down the road that we came. We slowly began making our way home, one by one, leaving the group, to cycle to our houses respectively. And that's about it.

This event probably isn't as unsettling as the other ones I've seen. submitted here, but it has confused me since. If I were to use one word to describe the town, it would be fake. Everything felt as if it was hiding something, even though it likely wasn't. So, quiet town on the country road, I don't think I'll be seeing you again any time soon. In the mid-90s, my brother, Jake, and I found ourselves. in charge of a long-distance move. Jake had secured a job in Colorado,

a far cry from our quiet town in the northeast. There was a lot of logistics that came with the move. He had to move everything he owned, which, while it wasn't much, was enough to fill a small box truck. There was no way that he could mail it all, and his girlfriend was already at their new place with his car, so it came down to him and I driving,

to his new place in the U-Haul, and then they would drive me to the airport so that I could fly back home. Jake and I were super close, so I had no problem taking a few days to road trip halfway across the country to get my little bro settled into his future. We packed up the truck and hit the road with excitement and a bit of trepidation. After a couple of days of smooth sailing, we found ourselves on a rather barren stretch of highway, miles from the nearest city. I think we were in southern Nebraska, or part of north-central Kansas, just driving down the highways that were completely empty,

even in the middle of the day. It was here that I looked in the side-view mirror and saw what looked like a rusted pickup truck trailing us. Initially, they were pretty far back, but after driving for a while, it really did feel like they were following us. and I was a bit uneasy about it for some reason. To lighten the mood, I turned to Jake and made a dumb joke.

I commented, Wouldn't it be insane if these were some deliverance-style psychos trying to kill us? We both laughed, appreciating the absurdity and the scary thoughts of that impossible scenario. He followed it up with the classic banjo tune, you know the one, strumming the air and we both chuckled and moved on, focusing on the drive. Our laughter was short-lived, as I noted that this truck was actually pulling up on us at a faster rate. It got to the point that I couldn't really see it in the side-view mirror anymore. And when I turned to mention this, we were both nudged forward by the bump of this truck hitting the back of our U-Haul.

I shouted, what the F? And hit the hazard lights, expecting them to pull over so that we could look at the damage. Instead of pulling up behind us, or ahead of us, they stopped right next to us, blocking one of the lanes of the road. I glanced over out at the truck,

and before I could even string together a thought, a gunshot rang out and the windshield shattered. I covered my face and cowered over, my brother did the same, and we both just sat there for a moment before we realized that the truck was starting to roll away from us. I opened my eyes and looked at the truck drive off, only to see a literal child,

no older than ten years old, hanging out the window and holding the gun. This kid was waving the gun at us, almost to say, Hey, I shot you, me, a ten-year-old, Have a great life. We just watched as the truck drove off, the visual playing until they were a solid mile down the road. Thankfully, neither of us were hit, but the windshield and the passenger side window were clearly hit by the round.

Being the 90s, we didn't have a cell phone on us, so we drove to the next exit and down to the nearest gas station. We were miles away, and it was an agonizing drive. Jake tried to say that we should just pull up to someone's house and ask for help, but I mentioned that the welcome wagon to town just shot at us, so I didn't think talking to anyone living here was a very good idea. The whole drive to the station, we were thinking that they were going to come back and do it again or something. Thankfully, we got there without issue. It was a fun time trying to explain to the attendant that we were shot at,

and needed the police. They came, examined the truck, and said that it was probably nothing personal, and that they would try to find out who did it. They asked about the truck, and we described it, but the officer kind of chewed on his pen and shook his head, like, nope, don't know who that is. Surprise, surprise, we never heard anything more about the case. We got the truck to his new place,

and we had to give the company the information. on what happened, including the police report. Nothing makes you sound crazier than telling a U-Haul attendant, in a decently sized city, that you were shot at by a child in the middle of northern Kansas. The scariest thing about this whole event, other than the 10-year-old handling a gun like that, is that the whole thing was unprovoked. They followed us for a solid 45 minutes. on the road.

So this was most likely planned while they were driving behind us, and hitting us was pretty clearly to get us to pull over. This was by far the scariest thing to ever happen to me, and to this day, whenever I plan any trips anywhere, I make it a point to completely avoid the Central U.S. at all costs. I have a summer camp experience that seems like it would be worth sharing. So, I wanted to send it your way to see if you would want to use it for your channel. I've written this story for another channel in the past, so hopefully that's okay, but I'm rewriting it

here, so odds are it'll sound a bit different anyways. When I was around 14, I spent a summer in a camp near the northwestern part of the U.S. They still do the summer camp, and I actually help out, now that I have a kiddo old enough to get involved, but I was part of something at the camp that was legitimately scary, especially as a teenager. Most people think summer camp and think of the marshmallows, bonfires, swimming, and some friendly games and such. And I would say that those are the typical things that people get to enjoy when they're at camp.

Me? On the other hand, I almost feel like I was cursed when it came to going to the camp. the summer camp. I went five times, from 11 to 15, and like I mentioned, I help out at the camp now as a grown man and things have been okay, but every year that I attended as a camper, something went wrong. I won't get into every year, I have one story in particular that I want to tell you, but I want to give some slight evidence to the fact that I was cursed. First year, half the camp fell ill with food poisoning, including myself, and we all spent a few days throwing our guts up. Second year, I was swimming and managed to break my forearm, resulting in having to leave early.

Third year, we had an incident with one of the fires that actually led to the camp losing one of the cabins. And of course, it was the cabin that I stayed in. Now the fourth year, and the story that I would like to submit. This happened during what I have to say was my favorite night there. Mystery night. The counselors decided they needed to create something engaging to really test our smarts. And it was just a fun and spooky game for all of us to solve. We all stayed up later than normal.

They gave us a story, and we had to go over the campgrounds and immediate woods to solve the mystery that they'd created. That year, the mystery leaned more into being a scavenger. hunt. Each clue would lead a bit further into the woods to really add to the creepy factor. My team was feeling confident. We'd been the first to solve pretty much each step of the mystery so far. It was scary in the woods, dark, quiet, filled with only the sounds of night critters. But my excitement was pushing me through the thoughts of how scared I should have been. after a while longer the three of us on our team

had found what was the last location it was an old well in the woods that was ancient partially crumbling and barely held together it was lovingly known as the wishing well to the camp though I don't think any of us campers really considered it to be a fortunate thing

it was ugly covered in moss and mostly destroyed I approached the well to grab what was our final clue when I heard it. As I reached, there was this low groaning sound pouring out of the well. It was a guttural sound, human-like, but kind of distorted. I remember being terribly freaked out thinking it was some kind of spirit or monster or something. We all stood there staring at the well like, what was that? when we heard it again.

The sound was seriously terrifying. This low, gurgling, rumbling moan. The three of us took off back to camp, groping out of there as quickly as we could. The head counselor approached us with his jovial smile asking if we got the last clue, but at this point we'd forgotten about the competition and were just going on about the creepy sounds from the well.

We were frantic but able to tell them what we heard, and of course they all laughed at us saying that we were just imagining things. After we kept trying to explain it, one of the councillors, Ted, decided that he would go with us to look so that we could be sure nothing was out there. We got to the well, and we were explaining that there was this really weird groaning sound, and we stood there waiting for it for a few minutes.

after nothing happened Ted started to say that it was probably the wind or something like that but he was cut off by the groaning sound as it echoed out of the hole in the ground I remember watching the blood drain from his face as he stared at the well and we all started in with the see we told you it was real he immediately told one of the other boys to go get the head counselor and he ran off to get him while we stood there watching Ted carefully lean over the well with his flashlight.

The head counselor showed up with his mag light and was able to see what was down there. He told Ted to call 911 immediately. To cut this a bit shorter, the authorities showed up to the camp, and what happened next was beyond shocking. After a couple of hours, they were able to pull a man from the well. He was half-starved, dehydrated. had a few broken bones and was barely conscious. He'd been down in that well for at least a day or two.

He'd apparently gone hiking and gotten lost and somehow fell into the well, left to the mercy of fate and time. To say that we were shaken is a bit of an understatement. The mystery night was overshadowed by the sight of that man. Broken, barely clinging to life. He did, thankfully. survive, but the memory of those groans echoing from the well, it was nightmare fuel. The well has since been rebuilt by the camp, probably to prevent that from ever happening again,

but when I'm out at the camp helping in the summers, I tend to avoid it altogether, in the off chance that I have a repeat of that night. I've been sitting on this story that I had actually forgotten about, until my cousin reminded me of what happened. He and I were chatting. We were at my aunt's house for my grandmother's 94th birthday, and he asked me, Yo, Nate, you remember that time we found a cabin in the woods? And it all came flooding back to me in an instant. This was back when we were in our early 20s, which was in the early 2000s, and we used to go

places and do some urban exploration, which is just a fancy way of saying breaking and entering. It was a day in the late spring, and we had decided to spend our Saturday going to an area that had an abandoned school near a really small town that barely even has a dollar general store. We knew that this school was there, because a friend of my cousins likes to scout out these kind of areas, too, and he told my cousin about it. We started out on our hike. The weather was warm, but it was definitely overcast, looking like a storm was going to hit in a few hours.

But we didn't plan to be out all day. We found the school, did our expedition, and I may write a story about how creepy that was, but it was actually what we found after that the story is about. We followed a path off the back end of the school, and we walked it for a solid half hour until we wound up finding what was pretty clearly an old abandoned cabin. This cabin was decrepit,

and nestled between a group of trees that had taken the area back over. The structure was pretty rough, though the windows were all still mostly intact. We approached slowly, just in case there was someone that was still living there. and stranger things have happened. But as we approached, we noticed that the door was slightly open and that the cabin was definitely vacant.

We pushed the door open, and it immediately stirred up a layer of dust that caused me to pull my shirt over my nose. The inside was as run down as the outside suggested. It was musty, damp, it smelled like mold, but there was still furniture that was set up. in the living room, albeit gray from the dirt that had settled. We began looking around, the floorboards all creaking under our weight. I was honestly thinking that the whole thing might collapse, and that we were going to end up

trapped in the rubble. My cousin, on the other hand, was way more interested in touring this place, and didn't even acknowledge my concerns. We looked over the furniture in the living room and came to the room. a conclusion that the couch was definitely hand-carved, with the cushions that were hand-sown and put together. We got to the bookshelf, and it was filled with moldy books. Most of them just old literature, but I noticed that there were a few books that were based

around, well, Satanism. I don't mean just books about the devil. I mean that there were a handful of books that were written to explain the significance of rituals, how to properly sacrifice animals. I mentioned this to my cousin, and he thought it was really interesting. We kind of glanced over the books, but he ended up putting them back on the shelf. I mentioned that we could take one of them for the hell of it, but my cousin said that doing so would just be inviting evil spirits into our lives.

I didn't question him on that. We noticed that there were a set of stairs that went to. up to a loft, and another set that went down into what we assumed was a cellar or a basement. But we decided to check out this floor first. We moved on to the kitchen, and that's when the really weird stuff happened. In the sink, there were what looked like bones. Small, fragmented, broken, and, worst of all, wet. They weren't covered in blood or anything, but they were wet like.

they'd been recently washed. We opted to just leave them as they were and move on. On the counter was a pile of old newspapers from the nearby town, and even a larger town that was a few miles away. These newspapers were a solid decade old, but what was really weird is that most of them were just the front page and the obituaries, with people and names circled. My obvious first thought was that Maybe this was some kind of serial killer

circling the obituaries for his victims But as I looked at them These people were all born the same year And it was a long time ago Which made me think that this was someone tracking a group of people they knew And circling them as they passed We pressed on further Deciding to check out the back half of the cabin

but there really wasn't much to it. There was what looked like a bedroom that was mostly empty, and the bathroom was pretty dirty and messed up. After this, my cousin asked if I wanted to go check out the loft, and then the basement. I agreed. We went back to the living room, and I stepped up the ladder and described what was up there. It was basically just a bed and a small end table and a really small CRT, TV.

I looked around trying to see if there was anything worth really looking at when I decided to open up the end table. Now, I don't want to describe what I saw. I will just say that the drawer was filled with very graphic, very disturbing, and very illegal photographs. Among those were other photographs, voyeuristic pictures. of people that clearly didn't know they were being photographed. I told my cousin about what was in the drawer, and I could hear his disgust. He told me to come on back down that we should just go check out the basement really quick. I didn't like that he was suggesting that we keep looking.

We walked down the stairs toward the basement, which had a door at the bottom. My cousin slowly opened the door, and the second that it opened, the stench of decay flew out into the stairwell. I nearly threw up, and my cousin pulled the door shut and said, Nope. We both ran up the stairs and out of the cabin. We stood outside and tried to figure out what we should do. Should we call the cops?

The pictures? The smell of death? It made me think that there may have been something really messed up in there that we didn't see. My cousin was saying that he just wanted to move on. After talking it through for a few moments, we ended up deciding that we would just go ahead and forget that this place ever existed. Whatever happened in that place probably happened a long time ago,

and there was nothing there that would help them find anything now. We never went back to that cabin. We never went back to that school, either. We both just kind of accept. accepted that something terrible had happened in that little cabin in the woods, and there was likely someone or something dead in the basement. But we didn't want to know what. I feel like we probably should have told the police, but I don't really regret it.

I have no idea if anyone else has ever found that cabin, though I'm sure somebody has by now. The experience was really not what was expected, But it was definitely creepy. Instacart knows that some people go bananas about getting the perfect, well, banana. Some want them green, some want them ripe, some want them ready right when they hit their doorstep. But with Instacart's preference picker, available at most retailers, you can choose to get your groceries just the way you like.

That means perfectly ripe bananas, deli meat sliced just the way you want, and avocados that aren't still hard as a puck in the third period. So don't cross your fingers and hope for the best. Download the app and get groceries just how you like with Instacart. Hey, Raven. Long time lurker, first time submitter. I never really thought that I would share this story with anyone, but figured that it would be a good one to get out there. This is pretty much the most terrifying thing that has happened in my life.

And it's the only thing like this that I've ever experienced, thankfully. This happened back whenever I was about. about 13 or 14, at some point in the early 90s. I had a buddy named Mason that I spent a lot of time with throughout my childhood. During summer break, I would stay over at his house, and he would stay at my house, and we were just the best of friends. So, when his dad mentioned that they were going on a camping trip for a week that year, and told me that he wanted me to ask my parents if I could come with them,

I was more than excited to do so. Of course, my parents were all for it. They were more than happy to get me out of the house for a while. We got to where his dad had decided to set up camp. It was a campground that was pretty much in the middle of nowhere and really didn't have many people in it. I wouldn't say that it was completely remote. It had a convenience store at the entrance after all,

but it was definitely on the outskirts of civilization. At least more on the outskirts than I have been in my time on the planet up to that point. Being that age, I'd been pretty well kept in the boundaries of our small town, so all I really knew was suburban life. We were a few days into the trip when the event happened. We'd been enjoying everything that nature had to offer, hiking, cooking on a campfire, and of course telling each other's scary little ghost stories. That morning, Alex and I had been up since right before the sun had come out,

talking about what we wanted to do that day, and Alex mentioned that we should go to the lake and go fishing. We settled on that, and then we mentioned it to his dad. His dad said that he was pretty worn out from the previous day's hike, and said that he wanted to take it easy, but that we could go by ourselves, as long as we were back by noon. I had a watch, so I knew how long we had,

and when we needed to head back. So we agreed. We got our fishing gear together, and I suggested that we take the quick hike up to the convenience store to get a soda first, so that we had something to drink. Alex was really eager to get down to the lake, so he said that he would take the fishing gear down

and told me to go get the drinks and meet him there. I agreed, and we went in separate directions. I got to the shop, bought what I wanted, and got some extra snacks while I was there, and then started making my way back towards the lake. I was pretty excited as I made my way back, thinking it was going to be a really fun morning and that we were going to catch some really big fish. I got to our spot where we had planned on sitting up our lines,

and I was a bit surprised to see that Alex wasn't there. At first I kind of thought maybe he'd found a new spot for us along the shoreline or something, so I looked around and started walking around the lake calling out for him. After a few minutes of me calling out and him not responding, I started to get a bit concerned, thinking maybe something had happened to him. the more I looked for him, the more I started to feel this weird, unexplainable unease, at the fact that he was nowhere to be seen. Then it occurred to me that he may have gone back to the camp for some reason.

So I started my way back to where we were set up. A bit up the path, I started to hear what sounded like a groaning sound. It was low and filled with pain, and it sounded like whatever was making the... the sound was struggling. Considering how quiet it was out on that path, it was kind of unsettling. As I glanced around trying to see where it was coming from, it clicked. That groaning sound was Alex.

Alex was in pain and struggling. I dropped the sodas and sprinted towards where I thought it was coming from. My breath hitched when I approached Alex. He was crumpled over on the ground with an unmistakable dark spot staining his gray shirt. It was blood. He was bleeding. And it was a lot. I knelt down to him to make sure he was still mostly conscious.

I was a young teenager, and this was the mid-90s. I didn't know what to do with this situation. I knew that I needed to get him help, but I didn't want to leave him in the underbrush bleeding like that. Being as early as it was, no one was out hiking the area yet, and I was starting to panic. I told him to stay there and that I would go get his dad, which, thinking back was kind of silly. He definitely wasn't going anywhere. I sprinted to the camp, and I yelled for his dad. I explained to him that Alex was on the ground and that he was badly injured, and then I took him to where I'd found him.

He told me to run to the convenience store and tell them to call 911 and that he would take care of Alex. Those minutes that I spent sprinting to that little store were mentally draining. I was pushing my legs as hard as I could, struggling to breathe, and my mind was racing over the fact that if I wasn't fast enough, Alex was going to die. I remember just praying to myself begging any deity that would listen to not let him die. To give me enough time and strength to get to the store quick enough. I swear every second felt like minutes and every minute like an hour as I made that fairly short run to that store. And trying to explain to the clerk what happened was difficult as I tried to catch my breath. I ended up just yelling,

Call 911. which, thankfully, was enough to get him to spring into action. The ambulance got to us in record time. I had to direct them to our camping spot and then take them down the trail to where Alex's dad was holding him, and pretty visibly sobbing. The park rangers also showed up to where this was happening, as well as the police, and I had to explain to them my side of the story, which wasn't exactly helpful. At one point, one of the paramedics mentioned that this was a stab wound, that this wasn't just a natural laceration, this was done intentionally with a blade of some sort.

That's about the time where things kind of came together for me. He was stabbed. Our fishing gear was nowhere to be seen. He'd been robbed. Someone at the campground had stabbed my best friend, and then stolen our fishing gear. I actually ended up blurting out that the gear was gone and that I think he was robbed, and the police seemed to agree with my assumption.

The officers told us that they would be sweeping the area, but they let us go with Alex to the hospital, thankfully. They got him stabilized in the ambulance, and we had to take the 20- or so minute trip to the nearest hospital. I just remember staring at Alex as he lay unconscious on that stretcher. He did survive the attack. They hadn't hit anything vital. He was at the hospital for several days while they made sure nothing internally had been damaged,

and they got him all fixed up. His dad and I had to get a ride back to the campground, and we packed everything up. Camping wasn't exactly sounding like a good time anymore. It's crazy to me that on this simple camping trip, something so terrible could happen so randomly. Alex wasn't a threatening kid. He was 13 and weighed nothing. He was smaller than me at the time.

If this person wanted the gear, they didn't have to go to such lengths. He would have just given it up. I know him. When he was finally stable and mentally awake enough to explain things, he basically told the exact thing that I assumed. He was walking to the fishing spot when he heard someone shouted him. He thought it was me at first, so he stopped and turned around, but the second he turned around, there was a knife going into his abdomen.

He didn't get a good look at the person because all he could focus on was the pain of getting stabbed. He remembered feeling it, grabbing the spot and just falling over, and watching as this person grabbed the gear and walked off. In the end, it was a case of wrong place, wrong time. Of course, I have those thoughts that if I had been with him, maybe this wouldn't have happened. But I can't dwell on that too much. This person was clearly willing to just straight up stab someone for like $50 worth of tackle, so they would have probably done the same thing either way.

We never went camping again, and Alex ended up with a gnarly scar and a story to tell when we got back to school. They never caught the person that was responsible for it. They did the full search, and they never found anyone. Obviously, the psychological scars of seeing my best friend lying on the ground bleeding like that, they really messed with me. But I try to not let it haunt me too much since he did make it. Alex and I are still pals with our own lives, though neither of us has chosen to go out camping since that incident. As a kid, summer camp is synonymous with freedom, adventure, and summertime fun.

My experience, on the other hand, is nowhere near fun. My time at the summer camp, back whenever I was 12 years old, took a horrendous turn. just three days into camp, when I decided that I wanted to take a hike alone. A decision that quickly turned into the most painful thing I've ever gone through. The summer camp that I went to was this neat little Bible-focused place in the middle of the woods, tucked away in the middle of nowhere Midwest. I'd gone to this camp once prior and had no problems. This was my second time going, and because I was 12,

I was part of the young, teen group. This meant that during the time at the camp, we were given free days to, in their words, find ourselves and venture into God's glory. Basically, go out into the woods with friends and enjoy nature. Now, I didn't have any friends there, which meant that I did my hikes solo. Despite this, these were my absolute favorite day.

of camp. I loved going out and identifying the plants, the birds, the bugs, all that. They would give us a checklist that we could fill out for a prize. I never found out what that prize was because I never saw a chipmunk while I was there, which, thinking back, I guess I could have just checked it off and said that I saw one. Tangent aside, I had a great time just being out by myself. It was on one such hike that my day took a sharp turn, both literally and figuratively. Walking along the narrow dirt path, my foot got caught on a large tree root, and I was sent tumbling down into the small gully to the side of the dirt path. It wasn't a large ditch or anything, but it was enough that the fall was definitely going to hurt. I remember feeling the dirt

slip out from underneath me. having a sudden jolt of pain, and then an overwhelming feeling of fatigue. To put it bluntly, I had fallen down and somehow hit my head and basically knocked myself out cold. When I woke up, the forest seemed really weirdly silent, and like it was spinning. Dazed, and I tried to piece together what exactly had happened. I was laying face down on the ground. my arm throbbing in pain. I was incredibly confused and woozy for all of ten seconds,

which is when the real pain kicked in. A burning sensation spread across my face and my arm. The intensity of it was enough to make me jump up to my knees from where I was lying. I brushed my hand across my face to figure out why I was in so much agony when I came to a horrifying realization. Fire ants. I had fallen face first into a fire ant mound. I started screaming, my shouts echoing through the woods as I jumped up and sprinted back to camp,

slapping and brushing at my face and arm in a desperate attempt to get these ants off of my skin. The pain just kept feeling like it was getting worse and worse. and I just remember thinking for some reason that they were burrowing under my skin. That's how bad that it hurt. When I got back to the camp, one of the counselors saw what was going on and immediately rushed me to the shower room, not wasting a moment to get my clothing off and blasting me with cold water from one of the detachable showerheads.

Each and every drop of the water was a small bit of relief as it washed away the ants. I was literally sobbing as I watched those little bastards go down the drain. Of course, that wasn't the end of it. I don't know if you know this, but fire ants contain a venom called paparidine, something I looked up while typing this out. It's a nasty venom, that when you get too much of it, such as when you're stung by hundreds of these suckers, can and will cause major issues.

This was the day that I learned that I wasn't allergic to them, which was probably the only mercy in all of this. I did, however, get horribly sick. Throwing up, struggling to sleep through the pain, dealing with various other issues. The swelling and blistering on my face were so bad that I could barely open my eyes. I remember one of the kids coming to visit me in the hospital, and he joked. that my face looked like hamburger. That comment alone added a whole new level of terror to this. As mentioned, I wasn't allergic, thankfully.

If I were, I can tell you that the story would have had a much more grim ending, one that someone else would have had to have written. I was left with a number of scars from the blistering and scabbing on my face, and I still actually have these scars, all this time later. The right side of my face is definitely not my good side, is all that I'll say to that. To this day, I cannot stand the sight of ants. Each tiny little bugger reminds me of that hike and what they're capable of.

I guess all I can say is, if you decide to go hiking out alone on a summer day, try to watch your step. and if you see a mound of dirt that's teeming with activity, just stay away from it, because the consequences might just leave you scarred. Hey there, friends. I hope that you enjoyed this collection of scary stories on this episode of the As the Raven Dreams podcast. If you did, make sure that you follow the podcast on whatever platform that you're utilizing, and if the platform you are on has a rate the podcast option, please consider doing so.

Those ratings push the podcast into the algorithm, and we all know how the algorithm controls everything, so yeah. I also do have a Patreon if you go to patreon.com slash as the Raven Dreams. You can support the channel further. For as little as a dollar a month, you can get early access to all of my content in audio format. The content's a little different, as it's, based on what I upload to my YouTube side, but it's the same stories,

just in different collections of stories than how they're presented here. Speaking of stories, if you have one you would like to submit to me, please go to as the ravendreams.com and click the button in the middle of the screen that says submit your story. These stories are mostly sourced by listeners,

so let's keep the podcast alive. If you've got one, I'd love to read it. Anyways, friends, I hope you're all having a beautiful day and a lovely week, and I hope I see you again very soon. But until then, remember you're loved, you're valid, you're important. You're the best you that you can be, never forget it. And until next time, much love and sleep well.