As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 087 - Scary Retail Stories, Creepy Kids stories and Other True Scary Stories - 16 True Scary Stories

Episode Date: August 18, 2023

Welcome to the chilling 87th 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 working retail, creepy kids and other true scary stories from Listeners. 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... Maddy D., timothy, AllSaid1968, TDN, MyDogISJeffBridges, Yanett M, Jules Q., Callie, LateNightTechSupport, Matthew Hepworth, Lynnie, Mrs. Sheller, Marie PT, James Lewis, 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

Lazang sur-gillet, Pugance-Moyerned 15 minutes. We're like it's the hour dojo. Prere to play. Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo.

The casino in-line that proposes the most recent machine-as-a-soo and the money to get-bass Bonanza. Without exigance

of misis and with the payments instantane. Hey, I've gained. Woo-hoo! Sentire the pleasure. Play-Ojo. 18-10 and plus,

1-Depos only depose only depot only deposition in Ontario. 50 tours on $1% $10% $10. DePoeoe to pay

to fashion responsible. The conditions so it's applicable. If you have a board via rail, embarked and profited, embarked and

relaxed, syrotay, bookiné, oh, so see, and profite. Via Raille, the voice that we

love that we have a story you would like to hear featured on this podcast, please go to as the ravendreams.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 so and thank you I have a story that happened to me back in the mid-90s I was a pimple-faced 19-year-old college kid trying to figure out what I was doing with my life and at the time I was working at a medium-sized department store

one that doesn't really exist anymore that rhymed with the word cheers the store was outdated even back in the 90s and those of us that worked registers and customer service were severely limited on what we could do for customers. And honestly, I hated that job, so I wasn't very willing to go above and beyond for people. The day that it happened, it was a pretty normal day. I clocked in at 8 and was assigned to the customer service desk,

and was then immediately told that we were short that day, and that I was going to be working the desk the entire eight hours, and that there was only the one manager, so to not even bother calling for a CSM. That's customer service manager for those that don't know. I don't remember what I was doing at that exact moment, but a customer walked over to the desk, a burly and rugged-looking dude

with hair that looked like an absolute mess, and an incredibly sourd, look on his face. I asked him how I could help him, and he pulled a pair of sneakers from a plastic bag and slammed them down on the counter, saying, I want to return these. These shoes were gross, and I'm not even sure that we sold them at my store. I started the shoes for a moment and then looked back at the man, and asked if he'd had a receipt for them.

That's where things started to take a turn for the worse. He aggressively said, Hell no, I don't have the receipt. I explained as politely as I could that I couldn't process the return unless he had the receipt for them. I wasn't lying. There was literally nothing that I could do without the information on the transaction. Nowadays, stores can track your purchases in other ways,

but back then, it was receipt, or you were S-O-L. The man started shouting, at me, causing another customer that was in line to flinch and look a bit panicked. You're gonna take him back, one way or another. I told him again that there was literally nothing that I could do at all to process their return, unless he had a receipt. I tried to keep myself calm and tried to not match his hostility or volume, but he was starting to throw a tantrum.

It was unnerving. He was screaming at the, top of his lungs about how he needed the money, and that he had just bought the shoes there the day before, which, no, he did not, unless he had bought them and then ran several miles through mud and wet concrete. He finally wrapped up his fit by pointing a finger right in my face and yelling, You're going to regret this! He then turned and stormed out of the store, leaving the gross shoes on the counter. I wrapped them in a place. I wrapped them in a place, plastic bag and placed them behind the counter just in case he came back for them.

I was a bit shaken by the end of that, but I was relieved that he decided to just threaten me and leave, instead of taking action. The rest of the day passed pretty quickly and without incident. I'd moved on from the crazy shoe man and just continued helping others with their returns and whatnot. It was reaching towards the end of my shift, and I was tiredly doing what I needed. needed to do, just looking forward to being able to going home. When I heard a loud smashing sound, followed by the screams of shocked customers.

This was followed by the visual of smoke starting to billow through the aisles, and the air starting to slowly get warmer. I rushed toward the sound with my heart pounding, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Near the front of the store, there was a blazing fire starting to be. to spread, and it was very quickly burning its path into some of the merchandise. The fire alarm was going off, and people were running out the front door to get away from the blaze. I ran back to the counter and grabbed the fire extinguisher, and I tried my best to douse the fire

with the foam, but it didn't do jack. Every bit that I put out was replaced with fire catching on more and more of the shelves and clothing, until the extinguisher eventually sputtered out. I stood there for a second and watched as this fire just covered more and more of the floor. And for some reason I felt like I needed to do something to stop it, but was quickly brought back to reality when I heard my manager shouting my name and yelling at me to get out of the building. I did what she said, and I ran over to the front door,

started ushering customers out of the building, telling them to get as far away as they could and to stay calm. Thankfully, the fire department arrived quickly, and they were on it. They moved in as fast as they could, blasted the whole thing with water, and after a little while, they were able to get the fire put out, and get the whole thing contained and secured. After they had finished their job, my manager and I went back in, and the store was an absolute disaster. Everything in the store was either charred or completely saturated. The police had arrived and started asking my manager some questions, mostly because the fire looked incredibly suspicious, having started in the clothing section.

We all went to the back where the camera system was, probably the only thing in the store that wasn't antiquated. All of us watched the entryway camera for when this all started, and much to my surprise, I watched as the man from earlier that wanted to return his shoes, walked in the door, lit a cloth that was in a glass bottle, and heaved it as hard as he could into the store, and then bolted back out into the parking lot.

This guy had come back with a damn molotter, and threw it in an occupied store, because I wouldn't accept his dirty shoes. I told the officers about the encounter. I told them that he was going off on me and that he had threatened me a few hours before. They took my statement, took the camera footage from earlier, and the footage that showed him throwing the Molotov, and left to further their search. Thankfully, they didn't have to go very far.

This guy was hiding out at the IHop next door to the store. Before they left, they were flagged down by one of the waiters that was outside of the restaurant. He told them that just after the fire had started, a guy came into the restaurant reeking of gasoline and said that he wanted a table in the corner. Apparently the guy was just sitting in the eye hop, watching the chaos unfold through the window, and giggling to himself. Worse yet, he was still there when the cops went in.

They approached him. He started yelling that he had been there for the last two hours, and that he had nothing to do with it. Of course, he was wearing the same clothes, and still smelled of gasoline, so they knew that it was him. In the end, he was hauled off and charged with some pretty serious stuff. He caused thousands of dollars in damage, and our store was shut down for quite a while.

I took that time to find a job at a warehouse, because that was the last day that I wanted to work with people. And, to be honest, I haven't worked retail ever since. So I wanted to tell you about my niece, Sophie. She's your average four-year-old girl, all sunshine and giggles, loves unicorns and anything pink. She has a healthy obsession with her dolls, really nothing too terribly out of the ordinary. She loves spending time with Aunt Marie.

That's me. And I adore her, so we've had a really good relationship from day one. Well, one weekend my sister and her husband wanted to take a little road trip, a sort of mini vacation, if you will. They asked me if I was willing to let Sophie stay at my place for the weekend since they were going to be going to an event that they couldn't bring her to. And I was more than happy to do it, having a soft spot for the kiddo. So, Friday night came around and my brother brought her over with her stuff,

told me that she was excited about the whole thing, and after a bit of chatting, they thanked me and headed off. That first night was a blast. We had ice cream, played with her dolls, watched a bunch of cartoons, and played Mario on the Wii for way too long, the whole nine yards. It wasn't until that next morning that things took a bit of a turn for the weird. We were having breakfast, when Sophie suddenly looked up from her waffle and said, There's a man outside.

I almost choked in my food and asked her what she said, meant. From where she was, she couldn't even see outside. She turned and pointed to the sliding glass door in my backyard and said, outside. Keep in mind, I live in a small apartment complex, and the only thing outside was my small patio area, and then a street with some businesses on it. I walked over to the door and looked out into the back area, but there was literally no one there. I reassured her that there wasn't anyone out there, and that she may have just thought that there was a man outside. But she was insistent.

He's out there. He's standing by that tree. Her voice was dead serious. I looked again, straining my eyes to make out anything. There were trees out there about a hundred yards away or so, but I saw no sign of any person. I told her that there was no one. out there and told her to go back to eat her waffles.

As the day went on, she would not let it go. When she would get up to go to the bathroom, she would pause and look out the slider. She would giggle as she looked out and then go about her business. One time she told me that, He's still out there, and he's not going away. Almost in a sing-song way. The cheerfulness had faded from her eyes. replaced by this strange seriousness.

I tried to distract her, putting on her favorite show, offering to play Mario Party with her, asking to play with her dolls, but she would not shake off this uneasy mood that she seemed to have plastered on her face. I ended up just letting her go through the motions, thinking that she would get past it as time went on. I'm not a parent,

and I don't know if this is a thing that kids do, so I really didn't know. She ended up asking me if we could just go to bed early, and I was all for it. I put her to bed, and then I went to bed myself, but I couldn't sleep. Every little sound made me jump. I kept looking out the window damn near expecting to see a man lurking in the shadows. I never saw anyone, but that almost made it worse. In the morning I walked into the living room to see if Sophie was awake,

and I was surprised to see her sitting on the living room floor. All of her dolls spread out in front of her. She wasn't playing with them. She was just sitting there with them and staring out the back door towards where she claimed the man was. He's gone now, she said. She almost sounded relieved. He said that he'll come back later. while I was glad that she seemed relieved and had gotten through whatever that stoic mood was,

that last statement about him coming back later was unsettling to say the least. I had to worry about him watching the house, and now I had to worry about him coming back. The rest of that day I had a bit of an uneasy feeling, but Sophie seemed like she had gotten back to her normal, cheerful, and bubbly self. almost as if nothing had ever happened. She went back to playing with her dolls and was all smiles and sunshine, just like normal. The rest of the day was great, and my brother came around that evening to pick her up. I asked him if she had ever mentioned a man watching the house over at their place, and she hadn't. Apparently this was a new thing that she had done, and she had only ever mentioned it at my place.

which did not help me feel any better. But, in the end, Sophie never mentioned the man again. Not for the rest of that weekend, and not in the six months since this has happened. She hasn't mentioned him, that night, how she felt, or literally anything about it since. The look that she had, though, and the way that she was so very certain that there was a man outside, that he was watching the house? I don't know if it was her imagination or if she really saw something outside.

What do you think? Was this something more than a little girl's imagination? Either way, I will say that I have never been so creeped out in my life. I work in tech support for a local internet service provider. It's not a glamorous job. It's incredibly boring, but it pays my rent and allows me to have food for the most part. So it's the job that I've done for about five years now. The office is one of those old buildings that they've tried to modernize,

but you can still feel that age and the bones of the place. Like some parts of it still feel like they're from decades ago, no matter how much they paint over them. Creepy, right? On one particular evening, I was working the late shift. We were 24-7. Troubleshooting for a particularly irate customer whose internet had been going in and out all day.

I was walking her through the standard procedures. Okay, well, let's unplug the modem and wait for 30 seconds. That kind of stuff. When something caught my eye. I was in the middle of giving some instruction when my skin started quills. crawling, and the hair on my arms stood up. I swear that I saw what looked like a person walking past my desk. You may think, yeah, it's an office that's entirely possible,

but the overnight shift is the most bare-bones staff possible. There were four floor techs, the ones that took the calls, and then one lead tech, which was only there for escalations. The floor for the call center was split, into two sections. There was the dark section in the back that was built like a large conference room, and then the main floor. And at the time, the other four people were in the dark room,

and I was on the main floor, because that was my assigned desk. If any of the other texts needed to go to the restroom, the break room, or even leave, they wouldn't pass me. They would have walked on the other end of the building. so there was no reason for someone to have walked behind my desk. I shook it off, rubbed my arms to get the hairs back down, and finished up the troubleshooting with the customer.

After I wrapped up the call, I sent a message to the lead and told him that I was going to step away for a few moments to go to the restroom, and he said that was fine. So I locked my system and stood up. As soon as I stood up, I heard a loud thud. to my left, and I swear I jumped a foot in the air. I quickly turned to see what the hell it was, and about two desks down from me, the monitor that was on the desk was now lying on the floor, and the chair was knocked over. The lead ran up and asked what had happened, and I just shrugged

like, I have no idea. He saw the chair knocked over and the screen lying on the floor and asked if I did it. I said that I hadn't even gone over there and that it wasn't me. I went over and picked up the chair, and I grabbed the monitor, which was unfortunately busted. I told him that it was messed up, and that it was going to need to be replaced before the person that sat there got in the next morning. He said that he would let the head managers know so they could get it all figured out the next morning and told me to go take my break. I went to the restroom and then, and then, you know, and then went over to the break room to get some coffee to help me get through the next

few hours of doing nothing. The office was deathly quiet, with literally the only sound filling most of the empty space, being the humming of the break room vending machine. I was pouring my coffee, and I got that same chill down my spine, and once again the hairs on my arms stood up,

and I felt incredibly cold. I shivered and finished getting, my coffee as quickly as I could, because I was feeling incredibly uncomfortable. When, out of nowhere, I heard someone whisper, Sorry if I scared you. I don't mean like a slight voice in the room, I mean right in my ear. I once again jumped and ended up pouring coffee all over the counter because of it. I spun around to go off on whoever had just scared me, but there was no one there.

I cleaned up the mess and poured a new cup of coffee in record time, and I nearly ran back to my desk to get my headset back on so that I could ignore whatever was going on. I will say that the rest of my shift was uneventful, thankfully, but it wasn't the last thing that happened in this series of events. In fact, it actually got a bit creepier, and rather saddening. When I showed up for work the next day, I noticed that the lead manager was still at his desk, and he called me over to his office when I came in.

Usually, these kinds of things are not good. They typically mean you're getting fired. But he told me that I wasn't in trouble or anything, and he wanted to inform me about something that had happened to one of my coworkers. I was a bit confused, but I sat down and listened. He went on to tell me that Ronnie, one of the guys that worked there, had been found dead the night before. I was shocked to hear this. Ronnie was one of those guys that everyone knew.

The dude was an absolute gem of a co-worker. He was actually a part-time stand-up comedian, and he was charismatic as I'll get out. He mentioned that his death had looked like an accident, and he mentioned that the center was... offering therapy if anyone needed it, because people were taking this pretty hard. He also mentioned that they were running a fundraiser for his family to cover any expenses, and talked to me about how to donate if I wanted. I thanked him, told him that it was incredibly saddening,

and we spoke for just a couple of minutes about things, and then I went to my desk to start my shift. When I sat down, I paused for a moment. I just paused and thought about the prior night, the night that Ronnie had actually passed away. And I glanced over at the desk with the monitor and the chair that had randomly been knocked over, and I'm sure you're seeing where this is going. That desk was Ronnie's desk.

On the night that Ronnie died, I had experienced some weird and chilling paranormal-like events that included his desk. And I can't. shake the possibility that it was Ronnie's spirit. I don't know why his spirit would come to the office, but something about it just felt off. I don't know, it was just too coincidental. It kind of creeped me out, like a lot. I considered moving to the day shift after that to avoid the creepy darkness of the building, but in the end, I figured that it probably wouldn't happen again. And if it did, I would just assume that it was Ronnie.

I hope that he found peace, and that his spirit wasn't stuck here because I couldn't imagine being forced to haunt your place of employment for all of eternity. Late night walks on the beach were my preferred way of unwinding. After spending way too much time running around the coffee shop that I manage, I needed something to help me clear my mind and relax. There's something about the sound of the waves and the cool sea breeze that just helps me push everything stressful out of my life, even for just a few minutes. I never walk alone, though. My pup, Jeff Bridges, also enjoys these strolls. Yes, I know that is a dumb name and no, I will not give you the pack story. Jeffie is the best dog that I've ever had, and I love him more than I love some.

of my relatives. One particular night, we suited up and went out for our evening walk. It was a really lovely spring night. I remember it was a full moon, because I made some dumb comment about Jeffie turning into a werewolf. As we got to the beach, the air seemed a bit heavier than normal. I assumed it was just the air currents or something, or maybe we were going to get some storms. As we walked, Geoffie chased some crabs into the sand, and I laughed at him when he would

get too close at them, and then get scared when they raised their claws. I shined my light forward, and I saw something glinting in the sand. My curiosity peaked. I walked over to it and crouched down to see what it was. I moved the sand off of it and was genuinely surprised when I saw that it was a cell phone. It was a bit strange to find a full-on cell phone on the beach like that, but then I figured that someone must have dropped it during the day and either didn't care or hadn't come back to check for it yet. I wiped the sand off of it, and it looked to be in good quality, which lent more credence

to the possibility of it being dropped on accident. I pressed the power button to see if it would turn on, and to my surprise, It was already on, and the battery had about 30% left. Thinking that I might be able to identify the owner, I swiped across the screen. No password lock, lucky me. There wasn't really much on the phone, at least not on the main screen, so I went over to the contacts to see if there was someone that I could call or text to inform them that they had lost the phone. The contact list was incredibly sparse. It was mostly just numbers of businesses and a few names of people.

Obviously nobody that I knew. I have to admit that my curiosity did get the best of me, and I clicked on the gallery to see if maybe there was a picture of the owner or something. That's my justification, and I won't accept any other statements on it. There, in the gallery, there was an album at the top that was named simply with the date that it was made, and the date was the same as the day that I found the phone. I tapped on it. There were about 40 or 50 photos in this album.

The first few were dark, just shots of the beach, but as I scrolled further in, my blood started to run cold. In the dim light of the pictures, there was a figure that was barely visible at first, but became much more visible as the pictures went on. About halfway through, I could see the figure much more clearly. The man was wearing a mask, just some plain white mask that covered his face.

And in his right hand, he was holding what was clearly visible as a knife. Suddenly, my comfy little beach didn't seem so peaceful. The fact that this gallery was from the same day, that the beach was already dark, and that the battery wasn't dead, told me that whatever happened, happened a short time before I found the phone.

I quickly put the phone in my pocket and pulled Jeffie and made my way home. Every few steps, I would hear a slight sound and would jump a bit, looking around to see if there was somebody there, but of course there wasn't. My imagination was running wild. I swear that I was seeing a person holding a knife in every slight shadow. When I got home, I locked the door and took a deep breath, thinking about what I should do. I didn't know if calling the cops to report a found phone was appropriate. But the pictures told me that something probably needed to be done.

The other part of me was thinking that this was just a dumb prank. But who dumps a phone worth a couple hundred dollars on the beach for a joke? After thinking about it, I decided that I would just take the phone to the police station the next morning, unsure of whether or not this was a genuine situation. It didn't help that the beach was just outside my window, and I kept glancing out nervously throughout the entire evening. As soon as the sun came up, I headed to the police station and handed the phone to the officers. They asked me a few questions, and I answered as best as I could, explaining that I had found it the night before,

and I admitted to going through the pictures and then told them about the album. They went through them as well, and the officer looked just as creeped out as I was. He promised me that they would figure out who had belonged to, and before, I left, told me to stay cautious, just in case, and to call them if I saw anything out of place on the beach. I don't know what came of it. I don't know if they found the phone's owner or the man in the pictures, but those late-night beach walks, yeah, they're a thing of the past, because I can't shake off this feeling

of being watched every time I go out there. I honestly have thought about the person that took those photos more than what I would say is healthy. What happened to them, and who was the man with the knife? Some questions, I guess, are better left unanswered. But if there was one thing that I learned from this, it's that not all that glitters in the sand is as innocent as it seems. I used to work the late shift for a drug store that was open until one in the morning,

and I hated every second of it. It was not a fun job, but it paid my bills and kept me fed, so despite disliking it, I did it for several years. My duties were super simple. Run the register, help the customers, stock the shelves. Nothing too crazy. Well, minus the photo desk. We all hated the photo desk. One night, I was sitting behind my register helping people check.

out and yawning every three or four minutes, because I was tired as all get out. I remember my manager Phil came over to me and told me that he needed me for a second, which was never a good thing. Phil was a gruff guy, super monotone and emotionless, but he was an okay manager. Usually when he said he needed to talk to someone, it was to reprimand them, and I assumed he was going to get on to me. for yawning or something, but he didn't. He pointed toward the wall mirrors where we could see a young woman standing.

She was small, probably not even five foot, and thinner than what I would say is healthy. I watched her in the mirrors and noticed that something definitely seemed off. She was a bit too twitchy, if that makes sense. He made a comment about keeping an eye on her, because he had a bad feeling. I tried to act casual as I watched her, glancing over at her,

sneaking quick looks to see if I could catch her doing something. She seemed incredibly nervous, and was darting around to different aisles, seemingly at random, doing her best to keep her back to us. Phil was definitely right. Something was up. A few minutes later, the woman made her way over to my register, holding nothing more than a two-liter of Pepsi.

I stared at the soda and then looked at her. Her hair was wiry and her eyes looked nothing short of empty. She had very dark circles around them. She looked more tired than I did. Before I finished ringing up her one item, Phil walked out of one of the aisles and approached the woman with his arms crossed. He said, Hey, I saw you put that makeup in your pocket.

You need to either pay for it or leave it on the counter. I remember that his voice was loud and it echoed, which is probably the most emotive I had literally ever seen Phil. Instantly things turned from mundane to absolute chaos. The woman shook her head no at him aggressively. Phil reached his arm out to grab her bag. admittedly this is something that we were told not to do, but Phil was my manager, and I wasn't going to tell him to stop. As soon as he reached his arm out, this woman lunged at him and sank her teeth straight into his forearm.

Phil screamed in pain and surprise, trying to pull his arm back, but she kept her grip on him for several more seconds. She then released him, let out what I can only call a bone-chilling screech, and bolted out the door into the darkness. Phil staggered back, clutching his now bleeding arm and staring at me like, What the hell was that? It was a gruesome sight. He was bleeding really bad, and you could clearly see the imprint of her teeth. I remember that I started feeling nauseous while staring at him. I called 911 immediately.

My hands were shaking so much that I almost dropped the phone. The paramedics arrived in only a few minutes, and they rushed over to Phil, to wrap his arm to stop the bleeding, and they said that they needed to get him checked out and tested because there was a chance that she could have given him a disease. The police also arrived, asking me what happened. I almost wanted to tell them that Phil was bitten by pain. patient zero and that we were about to witness the damn zombie apocalypse. That's how surreal it all felt. Honestly, who expects a woman to bite someone over some stolen drugstorm makeup?

They took a look around, made some notes, asked about camera footage, and all that, but I think they were as baffled as I was about this whole thing. Phil ended up needing stitches to patch his arm up, and I'm sure they had to give him a rabies shot too, just in case. Poor guy was incredibly shaken up about the whole incident, but can you blame him? After that night, he was a lot nicer to people, which I guess is the silver lining to having your arm ripped into by some crazy woman. And me, I was left with a creepy story and a new disdain for the night shift.

Oh, and I avoided the cosmetic aisle at all costs just in case. And though I've moved on from that job, the memory of that night, the visual of her latching onto him, and that horrifying screech that she let out before running away, it all still sends major shivers down my spine. First of all, thank you for your channel. I always listen to you while they work, and I thought it would be the right thing to share a story that happened when I was around nine years old.

A bit of background story first. My mom had a small grocery store when I was young. I'm now a 31-year-old woman, and I know that this encounter happened a long time ago, but it's something that I always remembered, and I always bring it up to my mother because she was also a part of it as well. The only thing is that when I bring it up, she never wants to talk about it, because she has no explanation for it and it makes her feel uneasy. So I let it be. One summer morning, my mom and I were getting ready to step out of the house and go to the grocery store that she had with my dad.

My father had left earlier than she did, because he was already on his way there. It was a pretty short distance. So we could walk if we wanted to, but my dad usually took his motorcycle and got there first so that he could start unlocking the locks, putting the chairs out, and turning on the lights. While my mom was making some coffee for herself, I was getting ready in my room and she sort of rushed me out because we were going to be late. My mother made her coffee and totally chugged it, and I was finally done so we could start walking to the store. In the process of closing the windows and making sure the stove was off, we heard someone's steps on the front of the house as pebbles. We have pebbles around the house.

These are used to avoid mud when it rains, so, as you may assume, where I lived was in the countryside back home. Anyway, my mom gave me a signal to stop doing whatever I was doing, and she focused on the steps, steps that I also heard. My mom kept quiet until the steps got closer. Then we hear a voice, a very familiar and unique voice

who had called my mother's name loudly. It was our neighbor from a few houses down. Her voice was so unique because she smoked a lot, and it was really feminine, but rusty and deep. Let's call the neighbor Mary for the sake of the story. When my mom heard Mary's voice, she recognized it, and so did I, right away. There was no doubt that it was Mary, and so my mom responded loudly enough,

Hey, Mary, how are you? Then, my mother looks at me with a confused look, and says to me almost whispering, What is she doing around here so early in the morning? It was around 7.30 a.m. Yes, it was rare that Mary was around here at that time, because that's just very unusual. My mom says that she assumed it was an emergency or something to come out here so early.

But anyway, we took that as maybe she wanted something from my mom. When my mom knew that it was her, she looked through the window. She opened one that we had just closed, and we couldn't see her anywhere. so we found that weird, because I had also just heard her and I also heard the steps. We thought maybe she left because she was also in a hurry? We locked her doors and took off. And while we were walking to the main streets, because we lived on a dead end,

we passed by Mary's home. Mary's husband was sitting in front of his house already working. He used to make chairs for a living. not that it matters, but it felt right to share. It was not weird that he was up so early, and then we proceeded to ask him, Hey, where's Mary? And he responded, Mary's asleep.

She doesn't get up till 8 a.m. or so. Why do you ask? Do you need something? My mom looked at me, and I looked at her. We both sort of were speechless about the whole situation. Because if it was only one of us who had heard it, we could blame it on just mishearing or something, or maybe that it was a hallucination.

But we both heard her, so we explained to her husband that Mary had come over this morning. We heard her stepping in the front of our home. The pebbles reassured us of that, and she called my mother's name very loudly. And he said, Look, if you don't believe me, come on in and check the bedroom. And there she was.

She was in a deep sleep. A sleep that even a nine-year-old can tell was genuine, peacefully, sleeping. I felt scared after that, and I hugged my mom. It really does baffle me still at this point. I still cannot believe it. I swear that if my mom hadn't heard it, I would have just blamed it on some child fantasy or false memory,

but it wasn't just me. and ever since that weird situation I always think that there's more to it more to our existence and that it's not all black and white I'm sure that I'm not the only one who thinks this way and this is the reason why I thought it would be nice to share because at least I know I'm not alone

and for some reason it feels good to tell a story that nobody's going to judge you for or maybe think that you're crazy Or maybe they will judge, right? Either way, it's okay. It's my story anyways. Not believing it is also okay. It feels less aggressive than sharing it face to face with someone.

Skepticism is the safest way to go, I guess. Thank you all, and if anyone has any answers or has been through something like this, please, comment about it, as I would love to hear it. I have been an elementary teacher for a decade, and I have a story that I have never shared before with anyone. It's absolutely etched in my mind, and as I think about it, I honestly start to feel sick. I think this story should have a content warning, so content warning, as it is pretty messed up, and it may not be as bad as some, but it does involve a young child, and, blood. So, I guess just include that as the warning. I teach second grade at a local elementary school, so I have absolutely seen my fair share of scraped knees and playground injuries.

I've even seen some pretty bad ones, though those are rare. Kids can be incredibly resilient, I tell you, but nothing I have seen or dealt with could have prepared me for what I had to deal with on that specific afternoon. It started out like normal, like every other day. Kids were screying around, giggling, enjoying their youth. While my class was out on recess with the other classes, I told one of the teachers that were outside that I had to go run to the restroom real quick

and then stepped away for my quick bathroom break. As I entered the ladies' room, I heard the muffled sobs of a child. causing me to immediately feel uneasy. There was only one stall that was closed, and I approached it while gingerly asking, Hey, sweetie, you okay in there? Yeah, I'm okay.

The small voice whimpered between sobs, but she kept crying, and I could tell that she was in distress. I wanted to give her privacy, as she was in the restroom, and I didn't know what was going on. but I was still very concerned for her. My concern grew when her crying morphed into a yelp of sheer pain, making my heart drop into my stomach.

I asked her again if she was okay, and then asked what was going on, and she responded with a sharp, I'm okay, go away. Well, obviously I was not going to be going away. I could tell that something was wrong. something was going on and I was not leaving this young girl alone in the bathroom while this was happening. I sat off to the side for a moment, but in the end I decided that I needed to be more direct. I approached the stall, and I tried to peer into the crack on the side of the door, and it was then that I knew that I needed to intervene.

Her face was covered in blood. She was holding a pair of kid scissors, and a tight-clenched fist, and was pushing them against her forehead. I gasped, and I immediately said, Hey, stop that. I wasn't trying to sound scared or angry, but I couldn't help it, and I knew that my voice was lined with my shock. Thankfully, she obeyed my request.

I watched as her arms fell to her side, and she just sat there sobbing uncontrollably. I asked her to open the door and after a couple of seconds, she reached up and unlatched the lock. I could see some of it through the crack in the door, but seeing her completely as the door opened was... It was heartbreaking. Her face was a bloody tear-streaked mess,

her shirt was stained with spots of red, and she would not look at me. She just kept staring at the floor, as she stood there in front of me, I shakily reached out and she handed me the scissors. And then I asked her, What were you doing, honey? Why were you doing that to yourself? My voice was barely above a whisper as I was trying to hold back my emotions.

I was trying to remove my third eye, she whimpered out, sobbing uncontrollably. That sentence hit me like a freight train. This sweet little girl was mutilating herself, and for a reason that I couldn't comprehend. I scooped her up, rushing her down to the school nurse with this horrified pit in my stomach growing the whole way. The confusion that followed was immense. The nurse was understandably horrified, as were the school administrators when they were informed. When her parents arrived, their faces reflected the same shock and fear that I had. had felt, and their confusion was genuine.

She was taken to the hospital, the parents thanking me for intervening when I did, but their gratitude honestly did not make me feel any better. This poor girl was dealing with something that none of us could possibly understand, and the visual of her standing there stained in her blood like that, it echoed in my nightmares. I know that she ended up going into counseling sessions, and the school tried to support the family as much as they could, but she never returned to class. The teacher that mentioned her said that she was one of the brightest kids in her class,

and that she had never had any issues with her at all. For all intents and purposes, this little girl was gifted. She was a straight-A student, and was ahead. of the rest of her class, but obviously there was something that bothered her inside. This was years ago, but I can still see it as vivid as that day. I have no idea what she was referring to with her third eye. I know the whole theory of third eyes and all that, but why would a second grader be aware of all that new age stuff like that? I hope that she's okay out there in the world, and I hope that she found help.

for whatever it was that ailed her young mind. In the incredibly minimal chance that she ever hears this, I hope that she reaches out, because I would love to see her again, just to know that she's doing better than how she was the last time that I saw her. Hi, Raven, you're my favorite horror narrator, and I hope that you use my story in one of your videos.

I work in retail. It wasn't my first choice, but the pay is okay and my boss is surprisingly decent. I work in one of those antique stores in a small town. Most people know each other in my town, enough to know who everyone is and their names. We even have some regular out-of-town people who drop by to see what we have in store, and they go to the local cafes. Most of our industry is now based around tourism and a super busy tourist season. I was doing some dusting of some of the shelves when I heard the bell.

I'll be right over, I called out, and I saw an older-looking woman with bleach blonde hair and that stereotypical Karen haircut. She had that irritated look, even though nothing had even happened yet. I'm not going to judge someone based on looks, but I smiled at her and asked if there was anything I could help her with. She looked me up and down like I wasn't worth her time, rolled her eyes, and asked where we kept the expensive items that were actually worth looking at. I asked her if she had anything specific in mind, maybe jewelry, furniture, or something that could help me. She then asked me if I was stupid and if I had mental defective. I told her no and that I wanted to help her.

She asked to speak to my boss and told me that she knew the owner. And if I didn't end up giving her a discount, she was going to get me fired from my job. This was an incredible overreaction. I nearly didn't bother calling him over, but I picked up the phone from behind the desk, and Bob, the owner, came out. He was a nice person, but... He got really cranky when he was disturbed for no reason. She smiled at him.

It was so fake. And she told him that I had been rude to her, and therefore she felt a discount was an order. He raised his eyebrows and looked at me. I was about to answer when he put his hand up. He told her that he had heard every single word and asked if she wished to proceed with her complaint. She looked like a fish gulping for air at that point. I had to resist the urge to burst out laughing. I wish I remembered exactly what he'd said and the way that he said it,

but basically it was along the lines of, I don't know you, and I've never met you, ma'am. However, I'd like to think that my friends would never treat a 17-year-old employee with that disrespect. Please, find somewhere else to take your money. She ranted and raped like a child. He told her that if she broke anything, she would have to pay for the items. Now, I've never actually seen a Karen before, so this was quite the experience.

We had a laugh about it, and by the end of the day, all of our regulars knew, and therefore the whole town learned of the Karen adventures. No secrets in a small town and all that. But that wasn't the end of the whole affair. Oh, no. She left negative reviews, and made new accounts, and left even more. She drove back to the store and handed out pamphlets to any customers about how terrible we were. It was bizarre. My boss was more amused by the whole thing than angry.

None of the customers had time for her, and all she did was scream at them and throw more tantrums. At this point, I almost felt sorry for her. Why would you waste your time doing all of this and not just move on with your life? When my boss went out to ask her to move on, she came at him, screaming and punching him. I went out and I pulled her off of him. She was screeching and flailing her arms, telling us that she was going to destroy us. It was freaking unhinged. I could barely stop her.

One of the townies managed to get her down on the ground. She was screaming to be let go and that she has rights. It was kind of hard to follow what all was said by her. The sheriff was called and she was arrested. And yes, it was the talk of my town for months afterwards. And we never found out what happened to her. The town laughs about her every now and then. Hey, remember that crazy lady who came into Bob's place?

Bob was okay, thankfully. He had a bruise and would joke sometimes about his war wound for the store. He even got some sales out of it, so he was more than happy. Every once in a while, we will get another bad review that sounds like it was written by her, but honestly, there's a lot of crazy in this world. There was a point in time where I was what you would consider homeless, and I was forced to move in with my cousin for a while just so I had a roof over my head. It wasn't ideal.

I didn't want to do it, but they were willing to offer me their spare bedroom downstairs, and as long as I helped out around the house, and occasionally watched their son Jonah, I could stay with them until I got back on my feet. I was super appreciative that they were willing to help me, and I was willing to do anything they needed me to do for them, which for the most part was just me watching Jonah while they worked or went out. I didn't mind. I liked Jonah. He was a smart kid, and he was pretty self-sufficient for a five-year-old. One thing to know about Jonah is that he had a bit of a weird fascination with clocks.

He would sit and watch a clock ticking for hours on end. Something that I thought was kind of funny, but eventually started to seem a bit unsettling. I didn't know if there was something up with him, but he had this really sure. strange obsession with analog clocks. To the point that he had his own grandfather clock, ironically, a gift from his grandfather. Maybe that's where the obsession stemmed from. I know that he was super close with my uncle before he passed away, and that clock was his, so maybe the attachment led to the obsession. I don't know.

It was one of those big grandfather clocks that had the pendulum, and you could hear it ticks slightly every swing. It was neat, but not worth staring at for long periods of time. One evening, while I was watching Jonah, after my cousin and his wife went out, Jonah abruptly stood up from our game and ran to his bedroom. I was a bit confused and concerned, so I got up and followed him, and I found him staring intently at the clock. He was reaching out towards the hands, but was too short to.

to grab them and the hands on the clock were at 8.20 p.m. Just something to note. I asked him what was wrong, if everything was okay, and he responded with, Time is sad. It's always running away. It wants to stay, but it can't. I got that weird chill down my spine when someone says something incredibly creepy yet profound. And you want to You honestly have no idea as to why. It was a weird thing for a five-year-old to say, right? I laughed it off awkwardly and said something like, Time can't feel, buddy.

It's not a person. And he stared at me with his eyes filled with tears like I'd kicked his puppy or something. He just shook his head and said, You'll understand someday. The next night, he ran up. stairs again to stare at the clock. Remember when I mentioned the time, 8.20 p.m.? Yep.

It was exactly 8.20 p.m. again. I followed him up, looked at the clock, looked at him, and asked if it was the same thing. He just scoffed again and said, You still don't understand? I told him that I didn't, and he seemed so disappointed in me. there's nothing more disheartening than a five-year-old being disappointed in you for something that you can't understand at all. This became a frequent ritual for him.

On nights when his parents weren't home, he would run upstairs to stare at the clock for a few moments, and it was always at 8.20 p.m. He would always have the same reason. Time was sad that it couldn't stay. when I finally realized that he was only doing it on nights that his parents weren't home, I decided to see if I could get some information from them about it. I mentioned how he would always run up to the clock and how he would make the comments about time being sad,

and they were as perplexed as I was. They knew that he loved the clock and they'd known that he'd seemed a bit weirdly obsessed with it, but neither of them had witnessed this behavior. I asked them if 8.20 was of some significance, as that was the time that he would always do it. My cousin's wife turned pale, like something had clicked. She told me that Jonah was born at 8.20 p.m. on the dot. Not a minute earlier, not a minute later. She even pulled out his birth certificate to show me, and sure enough, it said 8.20 p.m.

This was a really weird coincidence to have to deal with, and I kind of hit a wall with it, thinking it was just a quirky thing that he did and that there was no way it had any connection to his time of birth. As time went on, Jonah's obsession with the clock kind of faded. He kept it, but his whole ritual with running up and being sad with time ended whenever he turned six. It was as if it never happened, and he never did. it again. He doesn't remember any of this anymore, unfortunately. He's now 16 and he has zero recollection of his obsession with 8.20 p.m. and the clock. Now, it's just something that I tease him about. But back then, there was something about the whole thing that just sent shivers down my spine.

Let me take you back to a time when I was in college, and I was broke AF. I was in between part-time jobs and was needing some cash to pay my phone bill, and I was told by my mom that she had a co-worker that was looking for a babysitter for the following Friday. Well, what luck. I needed money. They needed someone to watch their kids. Win-win. They had two little kids.

a boy and a girl, and they were just the cutest kids that I'd ever seen. Well, at first. Carmen was the older of the two. He was five and was a very giggly kid. Carrie was four, and she was the definition of an adorable little girl. They seemed pretty normal on the surface, like I said. They were playful and cute, and pretty much right away I had this feeling that this was going to be a super easy night for me. They were watching TV for a while, and I was making dinner for them, just getting some pasta boiled and chicken cooked for spaghetti.

Carrie didn't like beef, so they used chicken. After the show ended, Carmen asked if they could go upstairs to play while I finished dinner, and I told them that was fine since it would still be a little bit. The two of them run upstairs and I'm just left to finish up the food. No big deal. I finished up the spaghetti, and I got it plated for them and then headed up the stairs to let them know that dinner was ready. I get to the outside of their door, and I can hear the two of them giggling and laughing quietly, peppered with some hushed whispers. I knocked softly on the door and asked what they were doing, not wanting to scare them or anything.

When I asked this, I heard a bit of shuffling and then heard Carmen say, oh, nothing, with his voice coated with that sugary innocence that told me they were doing something that they weren't supposed to be doing. It kind of put me on edge, and it just felt off. I pushed the door open to see what it was they were hiding, and my heart skipped a beat. There they were, both sitting on the floor huddled around a Ouija board.

Where they got it from, I didn't. No, but I was a bit speechless for a moment before I gathered myself. Guys, you should not be playing with that. Where did you get that from? I was firm but calm when I asked my question, trying to mask my nervousness. Carmen responded with, I found it in the closet. It's cool.

It spells words. I nodded like, yep, that's what it's for. And I ushered them. out of the room and down into the kitchen. I went in to pick up the board, and I swear that that room felt ice cold. I can't prove it, but I swear it. We all went downstairs, ate our dinner, and, after we cleaned up the table and dishes, Carrie asked if they could color down at the kitchen table.

I figured that was fine. They would get into less trouble doing that than playing with a Ouija board, at least. I got them some paper. got their tackle box full of coloring items out onto the table. At this point, I had mostly brushed off the whole Ouija board situation, thinking it was probably nothing. They didn't know what they were doing and that they had to have intent to even do anything with it, right? After some time, Carrie skipped back into the living room, a proud smile paced on her face, as she held a piece of paper against her chest and just stared at me.

with her big eyes. I asked what was up, and she said that she had made something for me. I asked what it was, and she flipped the paper over, and my blood ran cold. It was a drawing of a tall, menacing, incredibly demonic figure,

all black with horns and a large mouth, red eyes. It was crude, as children's drawings often are, But there was something horribly unsettling about it. I asked her trying to keep my voice steady. Sweetie, what is this? Without skipping a beat, she replied in that cute little carefree voice.

It's who we were talking to upstairs. He doesn't like you. He said that he wants to cut you up. She then giggled and skipped back into the kitchen to continue coloring. I was honestly paralyzed. her words just echoing in my head. He doesn't like me? He wants to cut me?

I just kind of laughed and folded the picture up and put it in my pocket. When their parents got home, I tried to talk about it, but they didn't really see anything concerning about what had happened. They laughed it off and just said, Oh, yeah, she's really imaginative, and dismissed it. helpful i guess obviously nothing else happened that night and i was never attacked by some demonic being or anything but the overall feeling i was left with that evening was nothing short of skin crawling those kids were adorable minus that business but i was happy to know that i wasn't going to have to babysit for them

again after that night call it intuition or paranoia but I was seriously worried that something was going to latch on to me after that. But thankfully I got away, a bit mentally scarred, but physically unharmed. I've heard a few people on here talk about some really crazy stuff that happened to them while they were working retail, so I thought I would throw my hat in the ring. I used to work at a small grocery store chain for a few years, typical 9 to 5.5,000. work in the produce department carved out in a little corner at the front of the store. At this job, and I assume most others, you get two 15-minute breaks and a lunch in between,

which was 30 minutes at this place. I know, criminal. We could take our breaks outside, but you couldn't leave the property because you were still clocked in unless you were on lunch. So, typically, on the nice summer days, most of us wanted to take our breaks outside. There wasn't a designated sitting area or a set of tables and chairs. We were just a storefront at the end of a bigger string of stores, so there really wasn't anywhere to put them anyways. So normally we would just sit out on the little concrete lip coming off the wall, off the building on the sidewalk. After working for a few hours, I decided to take my first 15, so I told my manager, took off my apron, bought a snack at the checkout, and went outside to get some air.

When I got outside, I leaned up against the wall and ate my snack, just listening to the cars and the people, trying to clear my head before going back in. This large woman walks up next to me and just kind of stares at me for a minute. I look over at her, she's just standing there mumbling and staring right at me. I look away, trying to act like I wasn't bothered by it, which I totally was. After about another minute of this, she just turns around and walks away. Feeling relieved, I didn't want to wait for her to come back as I had five minutes left on my break, so I decided to cut it short and head in early. Later on in the day, I'm stopping.

the fruits and veggies, and I noticed the same woman walking around in the store, looking around in a daze, no shopping cart or bags, not looking at any products or even people. She was just wandering around like she wasn't in the middle of a busy grocery store on a Saturday afternoon. I told my manager about her and how she kind of just stared at me outside, but he said we couldn't do anything unless she was making people uncomfortable. or decided to steal something. So I went about the next few hours like normal, until my lunch break hit. I'd forgotten about the woman and my brief encounter in the morning.

I ordered a slice of pizza over the phone and went next door to pick it up, and as I'm walking to my usual outside sitting spot, I noticed the same woman standing there, staring at the wall where I was earlier. I decided the AC was nicer than the outside heat anyways, and I took my lunch inside. Inside of our store, there are a set of tables and booths in a medium-sized section of wine and beer. Just kind of in the middle of the store.

It's pretty cozy. It's not good to get away from people, and in hindsight, I should have just went to the break room in the back. As I'm sitting there eating my pizza and sipping on my Coke, I was in the middle of a YouTube video with both headphones in, And I see at the very top of my vision, a big figure slide into the booth across from me. I quickly look up and then back down at my phone.

It was the same woman from earlier. And she was just staring daggers into my soul. I decided enough was enough. This was getting ridiculous. We're in the middle of a store, so what was she going to do? I took out my earbuds. Can I help you? She replies with just mumbles.

Listen, you following me around is making me feel really uncomfortable, so can you tell me what you want? Just like that, I watched her eyes finally focus on me and actually see me for the first time. She must have been totally out of it. I just need a ride home. I've been stuck here all day. She said this in such a dead panes.

monotone way, that it was like she was reading it off of a script. Sorry, I don't have a car. My uncle comes to pick me up after work. She then starts acting erratic, rocking back and forth. Uh, I could, I could give you, no, him, gas money, please? Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, I decided to get up and take my lunch to the break room, apologizing to the lady and just quickly walking away. As I get to the double doors leading to the dairy back room and the break room,

I push one of them open and my manager is just coming out. I was just about to tell him what happened when his face turns into one of confusion, and he says something to someone behind me. Ma'am, you can't be back here, employees only. I turn around, and to my horror, there she was again. standing there in a daze and staring straight at me, not even acknowledging my manager and trying to follow me into the back room. He gets her away from the double doors,

and I usher him over, and I tell him what's going on. He told me that he'll get her out of there and not to worry. Relieved, I went to the break room and finished my lunch. Then my second break, and then the second half of my shift without so much as a hiccup, aside from the regular 9-5 BS. So, as I mentioned before, I told the lady that my uncle would be coming to pick me up,

which was true. What I didn't tell her is that he would be late today by about half an hour or so. So I was just going to go to the game stop next door, browse for a bit, and hop in the car and hightail it out of there, hoping that she wouldn't see me. As I exit the store, I turned to where my usual spot in the sidewalk is,

and there she is again. Same spot, eight hours later. But this time she's looking right at me, like she knew that I was coming. I quickly turned around and speedwalked to GameStop, hoping that I could get there in time before she got to me. I knew the people in there very well. We were basically friends at this point,

so I knew that they would help me. I rush into the store, and the lady at the counter saw the look on my face and asked me what was wrong. I told her that a woman had been stalking me since I got into work that day. She immediately ushered me to sit behind some boxes in the counter. A few seconds later, the door chime went off, and someone came in the store. The lady behind the counter asked me what she looked like, and I told her. She then turned and asked the person who came in if they needed any help.

Nah, I'm just waiting for my boyfriend. Her what? So this lady follows me around all day, stalks me, makes me uncomfortable, and then calls me her boyfriend? I sat there for what felt like hours, and then finally the door chime went off again and she left. I stayed there for a few more minutes just to make sure she was gone. When the lady was sure that I was safe, she told me the coast was clear. Just then my uncle pulled up outside and I hopped in as fast as I could. I looked around as we were driving away and I saw the lady in that same spot from earlier just staring at the wall.

A few weeks later, I actually saw an arrest warrant on Facebook from my local police department. My heart dropped as I saw the picture of the same lady with that same blank stare. She was apparently wanted for robbery and attempted assault. I'm so thankful for that lady at GameStop and my manager because I have no idea what would have happened to me if they weren't there. A few years back, on what I remember to be a sticky summer day, I found myself packed in a minivan with five of my college friends. We had planned to take a little summer vacation the winter prior, and we all did everything we could to make sure that we had a week off,

to get away and do God knows what for a few days. Honestly, this vacation was a bit of a trip down memory lane in the form of a week-long stay at an Airbnb that was on the outskirts of a countryside town. The place was listed as an old converted farmhouse, oozing with that rustic, old-timey charm, and fitted with a bunch of antique fixtures. It was one hell of a nod to the place's rich history,

The first day was idyllic. We met with the owner when we got there. She showed us around the place, told us about all of the amenities, and gave her list of requests about the property. She was pretty cool. She wasn't one of those owners that expected you to water the garden, do the laundry, and mow the lawn. Fun fact, all of those are things that I have been told to do when staying at an Airbnb. Yeah. One time, I was actually told that I needed to mow the lawn while I was there,

or else I would be charged an extra cleaning fee. No, I did not mow the lawn, and no, I was not charged for it, because it was a ridiculous request and the owner knew it. Over that first day, we laughed and shared some memories, talked about where life had taken us over the last ten years, and just enjoyed some time together. As the evening fell, though, some of the feelings about the place changed. It was incredibly dark in that house.

The installed lights were a bit too far apart, and as it was an old farmhouse, there were a lot of spots that just seemed way darker than normal. In spite of this place being antique in its style, we wanted to order pizza for dinner, just get some modern joy in the place. When we went to order, I reached for my bag to get my wallet, and strangely enough, it was gone. I poured the contents of my bag out, and it was not there. I kind of freaked out a bit, trying to figure out what would have happened, when one of my friends made a comment about whether I had forgotten it at home. I hadn't needed it yet, so it was possible, but that wasn't really like me since I'm a story. super organized person. I said that that may have been the case and just apologized, and one of the other girls

said that she would buy the pizza. We got our dinner, ate, and then we all just sat on the couch watching TV for a while. I was completely distracted about the wallet thing, thinking that I really didn't believe that I had left it behind. When I went to bed, I dumped out my suitcase upstairs to see if I had packed it there, but but no, it wasn't there. I said screw it and just went to sleep, thinking that I was such an idiot's to have left my wallet at home like that,

and thinking that I wouldn't have money for the whole dang week. The next morning, I went downstairs to get some leftover pizza for breakfast, and when I pulled the box out of the fridge, it was empty. I huffed, asking who ate the last of the pizza and then put the box back in the fridge. but no one owned up to it. I tossed the box by the trash and grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and walked into the living room. I glanced over at the coffee table, and sitting there with my purse was my wallet. I turned to the others and asked who had found it and where it was, but again, none of them owned up to the actions.

I opened it, and all of my cards were there. My license was there, but... The cash that I had saved was gone. I was heartbroken. One of my friends had stolen my money? I wanted to confront them all and figure it out, but it was one of those, maybe it's best to just let it go moments.

I didn't want to ruin these friendships, and while I was mad and hurt, I didn't want to make it worse. Then things got weirder from there. We spent the day out, the nearby town, shopping, having lunch, and spending some time at the park. When we got home from our day out, we were shocked to see the kitchen in disarray. When we'd had our breakfast, we all cleaned up, and we kept the kitchen tidy, but

when we got home, the contents of the fridge were on the counter. There were pots and pans out on the counter, and there was even a dirty plate sitting on top of the microwave. Alarm bells started going off. We were all out for the day, all five of us, so there was no way that any of us had done this. One of my friends called the owner and asked if she had come by and used the property, or if they knew anyone else that had a key. She said that there were only the two keys, the one for the guests and hers,

and that she hadn't stopped by at all. We told her about the situation. And she told us to call the cops, and that she would be there as soon as possible. We did what she asked. We called the police, and we waited. They showed up at about the same time that she did, and we had to tell them about the whole situation, explaining that we were all out, and that the kitchen had been used while we were gone. They asked if anything was missing, and we told them that we weren't sure because we called them as soon as we got there.

They walked us through the whole home to check their rooms, and there were things missing, numerous things. For instance, my backpack was gone. My friend's clothing had been ransacked, and one of my other friend's laptops was gone, too. We were devastated. We'd been robbed while on vacation, literally no more than two days in. What was confusing to the officers, was that there was no sign of forced entry. All of the doors were locked and nothing was broken.

They did a clear of the house, and when they were downstairs in the basement, they called the owner to come down. I went with her out of curiosity. The officers were standing at a bookshelf that was installed into the wall, and they asked her what was in the room behind it. She was confused. She said that there wasn't a room behind it,

and the officer pointed out the handle on the inside wall of the shelf, saying that it looked like it was for a door. Sure enough, there was a small metal inset handle, one that was easy to miss, but was pretty clearly there to grab and to pull. She was as shocked as I was. The officers told us to step back just in case, and they pulled the shelf.

Sure enough, it clicked open. and they pulled it open. On the other side was a concrete room that was dusty and full of cobwebs, but it looked like a wine cellar with how the walls were cut out. They shined their lights in the room, and I could clearly see that the room was full of so much stuff. Clothing, various decorations, books, small items, and food packaging, and on a small table in the back was my backpack and my friend's laptop.

The officers went in with their guns raised and immediately started screaming at someone to put their hands up. After a few moments, they came back out with a very scruffy-looking man and cuffs. They asked if we knew him and none of us did, nor did the owner. To try and wrap this up a bit, the man was a homeless guy that had broken in to the units when no one else was staying there. He had apparently stumbled on the wine cellar. which we determined was likely hidden

because it was added during the prohibition era and the old owners of the farmhouse were likely bootlegging. The homeless guy had been staying there and he'd been sneaking things from the house, mostly food so that he didn't starve, but he had gotten bold when he stole my wallet initially. And we have no idea why he went all in with the kitchen and stealing our stuff this last time. He'd probably just got back.

bold and figured, why not? Thankfully, we all got our stuff back, and the owner had gathered things that were of value that she needed to get back to prior renters. The man was booked and charged, which I'm sorry that he had to go to prison. I get that he just wanted a place to stay that wasn't out in the elements,

but it was kind of terrifying that he had been staying there the whole time that we were there, that he'd been sleeping in a hidden room in the basement. that somehow no one had ever noticed. Worse yet, if he'd kept his theft subtle, I don't think anyone would have even realized that he was there. I used to work in one of those big department stores back in the mid-2010s. I stocked shelves and sometimes had to work in the front,

but I was mostly assigned with processing returns and doing the overnight stocking. While it was mostly uneventful, there is one event that I have never been able to forget, mostly because I have no idea how it turned out, and it was seriously kind of creepy. This happened when I was part of the crew that was doing inventory. I don't know if you've ever worked an inventory for a retail location, but it is hell. You have to spend way too much time literally counting items on shelves. Every little item on every single shelf has to be counted and tallied, so that the store knows how much of what they have,

and they can further decide if certain departments have issues with theft. I had to do the inventory of the toy section of the store, which, again, is full of small items. So my brain was feeling a bit burned out. Every Lego, every little blind box, every single hot wheel. As I reached up to grab one of the items from one of the top shelves, my hand accidentally knocked down a plush bear. I instinctually went to catch it, but fumbled it,

and it fell straight to the floor, but instead of that soft, flump sound that you would expect, it made a bit of a hard thud. Weird, right? It was a basic stuffed bear. There was nothing inside of it but fluff. and yet it made a hard sound as if it was heavy. I picked it up, and it was heavier than I anticipated.

Something about it was definitely off. I looked closer at the bear trying to figure out what exactly was off about him when I noticed something unusual about his eyes. One of them was pretty standard, but the other one was different. It looked like it had a hole in it that was shiny and reflective. After a moment of looking at it closely, it clicked. That weird eye? It wasn't just an eye.

The hole was for a lens. The lens of a small, hidden camera. Recording everything. I dropped the bear like it was going to burst into flames. My heart was pounding as I thought about the possibilities. Who puts a camera in a toy bear? Why was it recording? How did they get it into the store like that, and most importantly, what had it seen?

I grabbed it and immediately took it to my manager's office, trying to keep my composure. I explained to him that there was a camera in the bear, and at first he didn't believe me, but when I handed it to him and he looked it over, his face turned from confusion to shock. He found it hard to believe, but the more that he examined it, it really did. click. He grabbed a letter opener from his desk and pulled the threads off of the head of the bear. And, sure enough, there was a camera that was attached to the inside of the bear's head. He contacted the authorities, and an officer showed up to ask what was going on. We explained that it looked like someone had snuck a hidden camera into the store, and that it was

in an item that was on the shelf to be sold. I think that's the part that bothered me the most. This camera was in a product that someone could have taken home and given to their child. I don't know if the camera had any sort of remote connection or something. I know literally nothing about technology like that, but just the possibility put a knot in my stomach. They took the bear, and we had to pause inventory on the toy section so that we could check all of the other stuffed animals and see if any of them had a camera. but that was the only one, thankfully. There was obviously the concern that we could have sold one that had a camera,

and I'm sure the store went through the proper channels for that, contacting customers and whatnot, but I don't know whatever came of it. Maybe it was just a sick prank, but there's a possibility that this was some creep trying to get a camera into someone's home. Obviously, there was a bit of tension at work when I had to continue doing my hands. inventory on the toy section, I kept looking at the stuffed animals and thinking about it because it really bothered me. Even now, all these years later, I actually cannot stand the sight of teddy bears, as they always remind me of that night. Gunner is my now 10-month-old German shepherd,

and is just shy of 40 kilograms. This happened when he was about eight months old. everywhere I go with him without fail there is always someone who tells me how important it is to have him socialized as German shepherds can become dangerous even the vet every single time pushes to ensure that I train even the slightest sign of aggression out of him but following this I actually don't care but I digress on with the story

Do yourself a favor and don't attack me for not behaving in the way you think I should have, or you think you would have because we all think that we're tough. But when it comes down to it, we can't control our fight, flight, or freeze response, especially if we have PTSD. So, no, you're not tough if you decide to have a go at me for mine. I completely agree with this statement. Don't attack people for their response and their stress. stories, please.

Early in the evening, just as the sun was beginning to set, I was getting something from my car parked on the street out the front of my home. My eldest son, who is 16, but was a pre-me all those years ago, and has related health issues due to that, is only around 5'2, and barely 50 kilograms with not an ounce of muscle on him. He'd come out with Gunner as he was taking him for a walk. As I was walking back towards the house, and my son had crossed the road, I noticed a man heading in the same direction as my son. No big deal. You would think they're just someone walking by, right? Except he failed to notice me standing at my front gate, said something that I couldn't make out, and right before my eyes,

I see this man speed up, almost to a run. He then slides a hood over his head as he was quickly approaching my son. This is a nightmare for any parent, and a danger you would never expect only four houses from your own. I froze. As I said, don't come at me for it. It's just rude and unhelpful, and it doesn't change anything. I watched on with dread that I've never felt.

The moment this guy slid his hood up over his head and sped up with intent, I just knew that his intentions were to harm my son, who was oblivious to his surroundings, fiddling with his phone with earphones in, as I'm guessing trying to find the right song to match the walk. Right as this man was within arm's reach of my son, and his body language made it blatantly obvious he was going to, in the very least, grab my son. As he began reaching his arm out,

the goodest boy Gunner swung around from in front of my son to be in between he and the man, and he let out a bark that I wasn't aware a puppy could make. Gunner began towards the man barking and growling as the man hadn't stopped with his first bark. I watched Frozen with horror when my dog then put all of his weight into pulling my son further away and getting himself closer to the man, who decided last second not to take on the dog guarding my son.

The man then flicked his hood back down and proceeded to continue on his path after stepping back and away from my son, yelling back at my son to get that dog under control. Finally, my feet unfroze, and I jumped in my car following my son and the dog around the block until they got home, just to make sure the guy didn't double back or come out from another street to have another go. Moral of the story, never let you guard down, no matter how close to home you are, or even if the

sun is still out. And always be aware of your surroundings, and it's okay if your dog is protective and defensive of you. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that that man intended on harming my son. and had it not been for the goodest boy, Gunner, this would have played out very horrifyingly different. Hi, Raven. This just happened to me last night, on my way home from my boyfriends. For starters, I want to say that I live in a very isolated area.

Second, I want to explain the route from my boyfriend's house to mine. There are two roads that I have to take. to get to the highway, and then once I'm at the highway, I have to drive about two miles and turn on the road to my house. Right after you turn on to this road, there is a little turn-off spot that leads to a neighbor's house about a mile down. Anyways, I was on my way home, and it was around 1140 when I left. I turned on to the highway, and remember getting the weirdest chilled feeling after I began

driving. I thought it was kind of weird, but I just ignored it because, after all, I was just watching a horror movie before I left. So I continued driving past a few cars. Nothing special. I start getting close to where I have to turn, and I see a car ahead of me in the opposite lane. I don't think anything of it, and I turn on my turn signal. They then turned on their turn signal. They were much closer to the turn than I was, so they turned first. I keep driving and got ready to turn when I noticed that they're sitting there in the middle of this little road off the highway. They haven't made it far enough up to even go all the way over to this little cattle guard. That's about six feet after the initial turn.

So I was just sitting there behind them for about ten seconds thinking, oh, maybe they're lost. Then, I had remembered hearing stories of people getting stopped in the middle of isolated areas by traffickers. As soon as that thought hit me, I locked my doors. I started to kind of panic because, by this point, we'd been sitting here for about a minute. I started thinking of backing out, back onto the highway and taking another road home. I waited another minute just staring at their doors the entire time. Then their brake lights turned off and they pulled off on to the little side road

and around the little loop like they were going to maybe go back on to the road after me. So I pulled up and I started driving, speeding back home. I look in my rearview mirror and I see them pull back on to the road and stop. I got home safely and quickly, but that was one of the scariest things I have ever had happened while I was driving. This happened when I was a junior in high school. My dad was working a late shift,

so that meant that I had to walk the dog. My dog's name was Katie, and she could be very skittish. I walked Katie all the way around to the corner of the neighborhood, and then we turned around. As we were walking back, I saw that one of the houses had their garage door open. I could see the entry door was slightly open, and at the bottom of the door I could see what looked like a head peeking out and looking at me. I looked at it and then looked away because I didn't want this person to know that I had seen them.

I noticed Katie was walking towards the house, and she had her ears up and was just kind of focused. We both just stood there and watched. I was more curious than scared. I could see what looked like long hair blowing, which didn't make sense because this was inside of a garage. The head or whatever it was continued to stare at us, and so I just kept walking back to my house. I told my friend about it at school the next day,

and he joked and said that I needed to carry a gun with me. After that experience, I haven't really had much happen to me. I did, however, experience my bedroom door slowly open and slowly close, which I know is not connected at all to what happened while I was walking the dog. I just thought that I should include it in my story. There were weird and unexplained things that happened to people. I'm a huge believer in cryptids and the paranormal, and while I don't know if either,

of what I experienced were paranormal, it's certainly a possibility. 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.