As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 101 - Scary Night Shift And Family Gathering Stories - 09 True Scary Stories

Episode Date: December 5, 2023

Welcome to the chilling 101st 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 that occur on the Night Shift, as well as scary things that have happened at Family Gatherings. 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 Episode... Julian, TrustedTheory1224, L. Pemberton, Overnight Sec., SkyLobster, ToBeeBluezzz, WakeUpKyle, Psychedelic_Graphics, TheBoastingCrab '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 surgellied, Pugance Moines for 15 minutes. We're saying It's the hour Dojo, ready to play. Vive the pleasure

with Leo Jo. The casino in line that proposes the most recent machine-as-a-soo and the new-rescent-a- on Big Bas-Banza

without any without any payments instant-a-e. Hey, I've gained! Woohoo! Scentire the pleasure

Play-O-Jo 18-N-N-L-E 18-Tourgents 20-tour-Tourgues $5-B-B-B-B-B-B-Banza $10-Bon-Bus I know this is going to be a weird intro for the podcast, but as it goes, Spotify has given everyone their 2023 wrapped for podcasters. And I just want to say a huge thank you to every single one of you and share some numbers with y'all if you aren't following me on Twitter or Instagram.

I am a top podcast for 3.8,000 people. Top 5 for 16,000 and top 10 for 24. point seven thousand people. You all are amazing. 24.7,000 people have me in their top 10. And I could never state how grateful I am for that fact. So without polluting your intro here with more stuff that isn't about scary stories, I just want to say, thank you for making 2023 an amazing year. Every time around this time of year, there is an event that comes back to the front of my mind. There are a few people from the family that are reminded of it by others, while some of us crack jokes about it now. Sure, it definitely wasn't funny at the time, but now it's a way for some of us to get past it.

Humor can be healing, right? As a child, I remembered our family always having a pretty extensive Thanksgiving. My grandparents had a nice-sized house, and they would always host it. My parents, my two siblings and I, would always be there, as well as plenty of aunts and uncles and cousins. I had a lot of cousins close to my age, so I always had plenty of kids around to play with, too. I was probably 10 at the time of this event. In fact, I had just turned 10 the month prior in October. There was also one uncle specifically that I loved being around, Uncle Rob.

He was very friendly and was the type to listen to you no matter your age, and was always engaged in the conversation, saying he was proud of you, excited for you, things like that. I knew the grandparents of the house we were at were my mom's parents because she always called them mom-and-pops. But I remember asking if Uncle Rob was mom's brother, or dad's brother. At the time, I was curious because they both called him by his name, but still hugged him and treated him as a brother. But at the time, my older brother and younger

sister both called me Bubba, so being a kid, I was confused why they didn't call him that. Their answer was kind of ambiguous at first. They said he wasn't really the brother to either of them, but that he was like a brother, and explained in a way how he was kind of adopted into the family. They also asked me not to mention it to anyone as it could hurt someone's feelings. I agreed and never really thought anything more of it. I never thought of him any differently, and he also had a son, my cousin Dylan, and he was one of my favorite cousins. He's about two or three years older than I was and was still interested in the same things, such as the Pokemon card game. So I looked at him as someone cool and often hung out with him when we worked together.

So on this Thanksgiving, we all started arriving. We were one of the first ones there, and my mom helped with a lot of the cooking. Shortly after everyone else got there, all of us kids were playing in the back living room, while most of the adults were sprinkled around the kitchen and living room. And As usual, it was a great time. All of us kids talked, made up games, played with some of the toys and setups our grandparents kept around for us, and we would randomly hear the adults talking and laughing too. Amidst the chatter of the house, it seemed to get quieter on the adult side of things. I didn't hear a lot of people shouting or laughing and I got curious. I told my cousins that I would be back and walked towards the kitchen to get a drink,

which wasn't easy enough ruse to give myself a reason to check on what was going on. While standing in the kitchen, I could hear the music that my grandma had turned on earlier, something we couldn't hear because of how loud the house had gotten. But even more curious was the conversation that I was hearing, and a raspy, slurred voice that I couldn't place. The conversation definitely was not a happy one, and I once again wanted to see what was going on. I approached the doorway to the living room where my uncle Rob was blocking it. I managed to duck under him a bit, and I saw a woman standing by the front door.

She had on a very short dress and sneakers, with a thick, fluffy coat hanging off her shoulders. But there was a very weird feeling in the air. It was like anger and fear. It was a very similar feeling to when I did something bad, and my parents yelled at me, middle name and all. But it wasn't towards me. I could tell that it was for this strange woman. Now this may not be exactly the conversation since it has been several years since this event,

but between what I remember and what my parents have told me, this is what I heard. My grandpa was the first person that I heard talking to the woman at the door, and he sounded very angry. It was not a tone that I was used to hearing from him. He told her that she wasn't supposed to be there, which seemed to make the woman angry. Why not? Why can't I see my family? I want to see my son. My grandpa responded angrily, but keeping his voice low. You've been given chances time and time again, Margaret. it. We can't keep doing this. It's not fair to us, and it's not fair to Dylan.

I just want to have Thanksgiving with my family. Why is he allowed to be here, but not me? I'm your daughter, Arthur. She yelled, as she pointed at my uncle Rob. I didn't understand what was going on. I didn't know who this woman was, but she was claiming to be my grandpaw's daughter. I knew all of my mom's siblings. Even if we weren't close, I could still name them all off. And she was not on that list. Why did she seem so angry at my uncle Rob? My grandpa started yelling at her that she was not allowed there anymore until she was clean and told her that she needed to leave before he called the cops. My mom then approached the woman, but I could see the sadness in her eyes as she shuffled her out the front door.

After she left and my mom came back in, the atmosphere still felt tense, until my grandma said something to lighten the mood. Thankfully, it didn't take long before everyone loosened up, and we were all back to having fun again. When my mom realized I was there, she pulled me to the side and made me promise to not mention the situation that I witnessed to Uncle Rob, and especially not to Dylan. to which I agreed. Once the celebration was back into full swing,

we started smelling something funny. At this point in the nights, I had gone to the front living room and was watching TV with my grandmother, and she hollered for someone to check the stove because she could smell something burning. I started to smell it too, but I remember it being something specific

that I couldn't quite pinpoint. One of my uncles came into the living, room and confirmed the stove was not on. But then his face twisted and confirmed what we were smelling. It was wood. Almost like what we would smell when we had a bonfire. But it also had a chemical smell to it. What I now recognize as the smell of treated wood, burning. Many of the adults started looking concerned, and were looking around the house frantically, doing a headcount on all the kids. Then my dad came back in from the front door

and was telling us all to get out. As the adults grabbed all of us kids, we all ran out, and that's when I saw the smoke. The sun was setting, but I could still see the dark smoke billowing into the sky. The fire trucks showed up quickly and put out the fire before significant damage was done. The fire had started by the garage

and spread to the spare bedroom behind it, that was just being used as storage. The rest of that night was a blur as I felt like I slept in spurts. We all were there pretty late. My parents were talking to a lot of cops and walking around the house. After some time, my dad took us kids home and my mom stayed there. Over the next few days, things calmed down and life seemed to continue as normal, other than a few extra trips to my grandparents because,

my dad helped fix up their house. I kept my promise, and even though I was very curious about that incident, I never asked or mentioned it to anyone. It wasn't until years later that I was finally led in on the details of that day and how we got there. The mystery lady, Margaret, is actually my aunt, my mom's youngest sister. And my uncle Rob was her ex-husband,

making Dylan her son. My aunt Margaret had an issue with drugs, and she met my uncle Rob when she was trying to get clean. He was apparently a huge asset in keeping her sober, and they ended up getting married and having Dylan. However, shortly after Dylan was born, she seemed to relapse, and she was putting the three of them in dangerous situations. So, with my grandparents' support,

Uncle Rob told her that she needed to get clean again or that they would get a divorce and that he would take Dylan. She responded to this by trying to stab my Uncle Rob while Dylan slept in his room nearby. Obviously she was unsuccessful and went away for some time, but apparently, that time did not sober her up. Uncle Rob didn't have much in the way of his own biological family, so he was accepted into our family with open arms. And that's why my mom always just explained that he was adopted by us. So when my aunt Margaret showed up at that Thanksgiving, obviously under the influence of something, she was told to leave. And once again, she took revenge by setting the house on fire.

They easily found evidence supporting this, and she went away for several more years. As far as I know, from those. in my family that I do keep in contact with, no one has heard from her in years. My mom says that she still feels bad for her, but she's also aware and understands that she keeps putting herself in these situations. It was really scary at the time,

thinking that my aunt, this woman that I'd never met, was willing to set her parents' house on fire, while it was filled with her family, and even her son, just out of anger. And while I really don't care to meet her at this point in my life, I do hope that she's at least okay and possibly gotten better. And hopefully, has never tried to do something so violent to another person again.

I've only ever had one experience with anything paranormal. And prior to this, I was not what you would call a believer. In fact, I would say I was a skeptic. And I know that people will say something like, how can you be a skeptic with all the evidence or proof? But honestly, I've seen enough people making arguments for obviously fake BS, that it's hard not to be skeptical. I find the stories and experiences that you see on TV to be fun,

but not much more than that. And I will honestly say that I still am very, skeptical of a lot of the experiences you see on those shows, but I'm much less skeptical about the experiences I've read online or heard in podcasts. About ten years ago, I started working for a company whose name I'm not really supposed to mention. I can describe it and give it a fake name, but there are reasons that I'm not supposed to mention the name of the company, which may be obvious to some.

let's just say that I worked for a company called the Data Factory, or DF for short. DF is a very large data center that services a lot of high-priority organizations. And while I may not be a tech person, I understand that they are the backbone of a lot of commerce and online presences. DF was built in an old factory that had been shut down and was then repurposed. and it's kind of wedged between a town that no one lives in in a large section of woods and cave systems. More or less, we are in the core of middle of nowhere, and we have several direct fiber optic lines to a very large service provider.

It's kind of neat the more you think about it. I was hired on as a security card at DF through a third-party company, and I was brought in on the overnight shift. I've worked this shift for the entire 10 years that I've worked there, and I think I'm the second most senior guard on the team, and the most senior guard on the night shift. It's a pretty straightforward job.

Like I said, it's very middle of nowhere, so we don't have a lot to do, but we still have to keep our eyes peeled. The event that this story is about actually happened in my first year, about two or three months into my working there. It was a pretty normal night, around two in the morning, as that's when I went to my first break. I was walking through the main floor of the data center from the guard post to the break room,

thinking that I really needed some coffee if I was going to make it through the whole shift. I was about halfway there when I heard what sounded like someone talking. I jumped. I pulled out my flashlight, shined it in the direction of where I thought it was coming from. I called out, asking who was there, and slowly walked toward the back section of the data center. I paused for a moment listening to see if I could hear anything more to get a better feel for what I was hearing, but there was nothing.

I went ahead and called it into one of the other guards, mentioned that I thought I heard talking on the main floor, and asked them to go ahead and do rounds to make sure that it was nothing. They went to do their rounds, and I continued to go to my break. When I got to the break room, I got my coffee and was sitting there just mindlessly staring at the floor, and waiting for the 20 minutes to pass, when I heard another sound. This time it wasn't just a voice. It sounded like somebody yelling. My immediate thought was that it was one of the guards and that they had found someone in the building.

I jumped up and ran out to where it sounded like the yelling was coming from, but once again was met with nothing. I grabbed the radio and asked for a check-in, asking if someone found someone, and all of them told me that their rounds came up empty. I asked if anyone had yelled at some point or if they'd heard yelling, and once again, nothing. None of them had heard anything, nor had any of them made any noise. I mentioned that I thought I heard someone, and one of the guards laughed saying that I must have just been losing my mind. I went back to my coffee, finished it off, and then went back to the station, and just told them that it was really weird and that I swear I was hearing things. They told me again that they did the rounds and that there was nothing on the floor, and that they didn't hear anything at all. as if on cue, when my co-worker was saying that he hadn't heard anything,

he was cut off by what sounded again like somebody yelling. This time it was less just yelling and more a mix of agonized screaming and crying in pain. I watched as he went completely pale and realized that this time he had heard the sound. I told him that that was close to what I was hearing and he just sort of nodded like, Okay, yeah, that's a thing. I asked him if we should go check it out. And while he wanted to say no, he said that we did need to go at least have a look. We headed to the room where we'd heard the sound coming from and both checked the whole floor.

There was nothing. We met back up after checking the whole area, and both reported that there wasn't anything there. When we went back to the guard post, we both kind of did what we could to shake it all on. and he made a joke about how if I was going crazy, then so was he, because he definitely heard the sounds too. Then, after a few moments of us calming down, sitting there in silence, I looked up and I swear I saw what looked like an amorphous shadow just standing in the corner of the building, watching us. When I saw it, the hair on my arms stood straight up and I swear my heart started racing.

like I was reacting to seeing this thing. I guess I must have went pale too, because my co-worker asked if I was about to pass out. I just told him that I saw something and just left it at that. The rest of the night was actually uneventful. Since then, we've had a few nights where we've heard talking on the floors, but nothing anywhere near as crazy as the screaming of that night. It's kind of become a running joke about the voices in the data center,

but that first night was genuinely terrifying. I'm the only one that has ever seen the shadow, much to my disappointment, as that would have added a lot of proof to my story. But it is what it is. I have a bit of an unconventional scary story that happened on a night shift that I worked a long time ago. I work night shifts in the emergency room, which is a job that absolutely gives you a different perspective on life. Sometimes you have to deal with the darker side of human nature, and I've seen my share of strange, tragic, and unexplainable events.

But there was one night that has stuck with me that was scary in its own way that I cannot shake off. The night started out a bit rough. It was a crazy, stormy night, complete with non-stop thunder and hail actually smacking everything. Despite this, the ER was actually pretty quiet, which is certainly a rare occurrence on a normal night, much less one where conditions aren't favorable. But as anyone that works in a hospital will tell you, you don't look a gift horse in the mouth,

and you find appreciation for these rare nights. Around 3 a.m., we received a call that an ambulance was bringing in a woman that they'd found on the side of the road, that she was unconscious and in pretty bad shape when they found her. When they wheeled her in, the sense of urgency hit us all, and I could see that she'd been through something intense. She was drenched, her clothes were torn, and she had multiple visible injuries. Even though she was unconscious, the look at her. on her face was unsettling. She looked like she was in a mix

of fear and agony, even though she was out completely cold. We all worked our asses off to stabilize her, to keep her alive and keep her going. As we worked to keep her stable, an officer arrived to give us some extra

information. She'd been found by a passing truck driver, no identification, no vehicles nearby. This offered up a few possibilities. namely that she'd been hit and the other person took off. While tending to her, I noticed a few peculiarities about her injuries. They were severe, but they didn't align with the person versus vehicle accident.

I've seen a number of those, and the telltale signs of them are typically evident. But this woman had different injuries. I also noted that she had bruises on her wrists and ankles. bruises that looked more like they came from restraints, not an accident. As we continued to work her over, I noted a number of other injuries that looked like they would have come from a struggle more than a hit and run. Of course, we passed information on our Jane Doe along to the police as we could, but nothing was conclusive.

After a while of working and getting her stabilized, she actually started to regain consciousness. Her eyes were wide, and she started freaking out and screaming. Not just a normal, where am I kind of scream. It was a loud and blood-curdling scream that made my blood run cold. She started shouting, asking what was going on, what was happening, and then said something that actually scared the hell out of me. And I'm sure everyone else in the room.

Let me go. They're still out there. Her panic was a bit infectious. The room jumped into overdrive to calm her down, trying to get her to stop thrashing and screaming, but it wasn't working. We tried to talk to her, but she was beyond consolation.

We ended up having to administer sedatives to make sure that she didn't hurt herself further or end up hurting one of us that was trying to calm her down. She slipped back into unconsciousness, and the room led out one hell of a collective sigh. The officer obviously had questions about what she said, and he stuck around with us, waiting for her to wake up again to get more information.

I really couldn't shake off this feeling of dread that came with her comments about them still being out there. Who was that she was referring to? The only answer I could think of was that she was being held captive, and that she was running from them. A few hours passed and the shift was coming to an end. By the time I was off, the sun was starting to come out and the storm had thankfully passed. The woman didn't wake up for the rest of my shift,

so I didn't get any immediate answers for my questions. I was told by a co-worker that she did wake up later that day, but that her memory was terribly fragmented. She could remember running, she remembered hiding, but she didn't know what she was running from. The next thing she remembered was lying on the ground in the rain, thinking that she was about to die, but not knowing why or what had knocked her down. The police speculated that it was a possibility that she'd escaped from a kidnapping, but without more evidence they couldn't really proceed on that front. She was moved out of emergency and into the step-down care. To the best of my knowledge, nothing ever came of that night,

as far as if she was kidnapped or hit by a car during the storm. They never figured out how she ended up on the road, nor where she may have been being held. She wasn't a missing person. After she was identified and interviewed a bit, there was no indication of what had happened, other than that she'd gone to the movies that night by herself, went to a bar for one drink and left,

and that's where her memories of that night stop. We never figured out what happened to her, and she never remembered. That's probably the most haunting night I've ever had working there, though I have a number of cases that some could deem as scary. This one, though, I think the mystery of it all really made it that much more terrifying. So I have a story that I wanted to tell,

because my actions were a bit severe, and they probably would have landed me in jail had there not been a camera that caught literally the entire interaction. We'll get to that. But to start, I want to explain who I am. My name is Julian, and I'm not a very large man. I am, to put it lightly, a bit flamboyant. And I've been targeted for this in the past, mostly just hateful words and such,

but at least one other time I was attacked because of who I am. Unfortunately, that event left me with a bit of PTSD, and because of this, I think I did overreact when this recent, situation happened. But at the same time, my actions were deemed legally justified. This happened on a fairly routine Friday for me, at least work-wise. I work at a local tech shop, one that does phone repairs and sells various accessories and such.

On this particular Friday, I was a closer, and my roommate was supposed to come pick me up. I ended up closing at normal with my boss. and after we were done, he asked me if I had a ride home. I told him that I did, that my roommate was going to come get me, and he asked if I wanted him to stay until he showed up. I stupidly told him not to worry about it, that my roommate was probably just a few minutes late, and that they'd be there any minute.

He went ahead and left, and I was just standing there waiting for a few more minutes before I called my roommate. When he answered, I could tell that he wasn't at home, and he asked me what was up. I asked him where the hell he was, and I could hear it click that he'd forgotten that he was my ride. Come to find out, he was at a party and was about three drinks deep. I angrily ended the call and just stood there thinking, Great, now I have to walk home.

It wasn't a crazy far walk, but it wasn't one that I was wanting to do, that late at night. I didn't really have much of a choice, as I didn't have money to pay for an Uber right then, so I just bucked up and started walking home. I started making my way out into the parking lot when I watched a van drive down the road just outside the lot at a super slow speed.

They were going at a normal speed, got out front of the shop, and then slowed down and kept on going. I thought it was weird, but just shrugged it off thinking they were looking for something. Until I saw them hit a U-turn at the next intersection, drive back past the strip mall where our shop was, and then turn into the parking lot.

I just stood there like an idiot watching them pull in, and then slowly pull up just past where I was standing. As soon as the car parked about five feet to my right, I watched as this scraggily-looking man through the driver's door, open and started walking back towards where I was. As he did, he said, Hey, are you okay? I was a bit confused.

Like, yeah, why wouldn't I be? I told him as such, and he laughed and then said, What are you doing out here all alone then? I'm not going to lie. This was such a weird interaction. This guy got out and just started hitting me with these weird questions, and I was just answered. them with short responses like this was totally normal.

It was absolutely not normal, and I don't know why it didn't really click at the time that something was up, but it didn't. It clicked really about 30 seconds after his last question, when he reached out and grabbed my wrist and said something like, why don't you get in the van? I'll take you home. I still just kind of stood there looking at him like I was offended. and said something like, No, thank you. I'll walk. He then started mumbling something to himself for a moment before shouting, I have a gun, and if you don't get in the van, I'm going to effing kill you.

There was obviously no way in hell I was going to get into that van, and I was pretty sure that if I did, he was going to kill me anyways. So I tried to pull away from him, telling him that I was not going with him. This is where the adrenaline kicked in, and things went sideways. As I tried to pull away, he started pulling me harder, and trying to position himself to grab me and push me in the van. My mind then went into overdrive, as I realized what was about to happen. I grabbed my keys out of my pocket, putting them between my fingers,

and I punched him square in the eye. He pulled back screaming in agony. I could see the blood on his face, but at this point I really didn't care if I'd hurt him. I ran back to the front of the store, unlocked it, and then relocked it behind me, and immediately called the police. I told them that some random guy had just tried to attack me. They asked where he was at that point in time, and I informed them that he was lying on the ground screaming in agony just outside the store. The dispatcher seemed a bit confused by that statement, but I informed him that I had defended myself when he tried to grab me,

and that I may have injured him in the process. The cops arrived, as did an ambulance, and they did end up taking him to the hospital, as I had apparently done some very real damage. I had to talk to the police for a long time. I ended up calling my manager back in so that he could show them the footage, from the front door cameras. And thankfully, right there caught in 1080p,

was proof that this guy had tried to abduct me, and that me hitting him was my attempt to get away. I feel like the officers wanted to chastise me for messing him up like I had, but for me, this was life or death. I was fully aware of what would likely happen if I had let him take me. Thankfully, he went into lockup for whatever they charged him with,

and I'm about 99% certain that he lost the use of that eye. But in the end, that was the price he paid for his actions, and I do not regret it. If I'd gotten in that van, willingly or unwillingly, I promise you that I would not be around to write this post. Did I overdo it? Maybe. But I only hit him the one time. And yes, I did use a key, and I did hit him in the eye, but I did this to defend myself.

And if put in this situation again, I would absolutely do it again in a heartbeat if I had to. I grew up in a very loving, yet unique household, at least in my opinion. I was adopted, but many people would say that it was a weird time for my parents to do so. They're pretty well set in life. My father owns an accounting firm that was passed down to him by my grandfather, and my mom became part of that family and embraced it well. They adopted me when I was three, and I know people have made many comments about it to them, and to me,

because they adopted me when they were in their 50s. This was not a situation of a kid or a family member having a child that they couldn't take care of, either. They went through all the legal motions to adopt a kid, and even mentioned how they had some difficulties due to their age. But eventually they won, and I'm forever grateful for that. But I also wasn't the only child. They have a son, a biological son, named Danny, and there was a 15-year difference between us. When they were going through

the motions of adoption, my brother, their son, had just graduated from high school. He was still living at home and wasn't attending college, as he was still trying to decide what he wanted to do. So while I did get to know him as I grew up,

we weren't close enough to really play together or bond. It was like he was another adult or family member, but nonetheless, I still treated him like my brother and called him as such, because he was all I had. However, he did not seem to feel the same about me. While he didn't outwardly express it to me, he made it obvious to my parents, and I eventually

heard about it as I got older. Unfortunately, that's how this story came to be. My parents truly did treat us equally. They supported us both, celebrated our accomplishments, grieved with us when we were upset, and even both got in trouble for the bad things, even though he was a young adult. He was still living under their roof after all.

However, I could always feel a sense of anger or jealousy from Danny. He never wanted to attend any of my school functions or plays or any of my baseball games, which was pretty disheartening. My parents did their best to not make me feel so bad about it, and it typically worked. So as I got older with a good support system, including my parents and family,

who all loved and accepted me, thankfully, as well as my friends, I excelled in just about everything I did. I did great in school, and I already had ideas of what I wanted to do after I finished high school. And no, my intentions were not to work under my father and his accounting firm. I wanted to major in graphic design and business management, hoping to run my own business.

That, of course, was inspired by my parents, as I wanted to be my own boss. I took all the extra classes that would help me get there, and I loved it. So, fast forward here, I was in my senior year of high school, and of course, was still living at home, and my brother Danny, now 32, had a place of his own. I was on our holiday break and was helping my parents prepare for Thanksgiving dinner. I helped my mom bake the pies the night prior and even helped my dad stock up on firewood so we could have the fireplace prepared. Our Thanksgiving was typically pretty small.

It was usually just the four of us. Sometimes Danny would bring a girl with him. that he was seeing at the time, and some of our neighbors would stop by, and my mom would exchange sweets with them. I loved our neighbors' pumpkin roll. The next Friday, the three of us would go over to my aunts to have a bigger dinner with them, and my grandparents when they were around. So this year was no different. It started with three of us, and Danny showed up later, but this time, he was later than usual. My mom had become a bit of a bit of a little. My mom had become a bit upset with him as he hadn't even bothered to call and tell her, and these holidays were always

very important to her. I mean, he's known her longer than me, so he should understand that, but he still didn't seem to care. When he finally arrived, my mom gave him one of her stern talkings, but then we all carried on. I tried talking to him on a few occasions and asked how he was doing, and he always just gave me these short answers and never offered the same. So I never talked about myself to him.

I had also noticed that he seemed to be on edge that evening. He would give short answers to my parents, and just seemed to be close to going off on someone the entire time. We finally got to dinner, and the dining room was set up to where you could see the TV and the living room from the table. My parents often left it on, especially on Thanksgiving as my dad liked to watch the game. Surprisingly, Danny and I had that in common.

Neither one of us liked football. But I was thankful that it was on because otherwise, it would have been too quiet that day. They both still paid attention to the conversation, though, and thankfully my dad wasn't the type to shout at the TV from the table. The conversation started fine. My mom asked how Danny was doing and what he was up to. He learned that he'd had quite a thing for antique cars recently,

and he was talking about opening his own car shop that specialized in antique cars. And my parents were supportive of that, too. At the time, he was just working at a different shop and was going to some kind of school to learn about it, like a community college, I think it was. My mom asked how it was going, and I just realized, remember him constantly complaining about it. He said that he hated the owners that he worked under, and the guys that he worked with

were all jerks. He said that he didn't like his professor as he felt like he was targeting him, and how some of the assignments seemed irrelevant. Yet, my mom was always the optimistic type, and she tried her best to find some positive things about it. My dad even said that he was proud of him for still sticking with it, and then, that after he finished school, if he was still serious about it, he would go in on a loan to get him the property that he needed.

When I heard this, I thought it was really cool, as it also seemed to loosen him up a bit, too. I then joked saying that I could help him set up his website and create a banner for him due to my work in exchange for a family discount on car repairs, because I did have an old used car at the time. He snapped at me, saying that he didn't need my help. My mom immediately told him to be nice because I was just trying to be helpful, but the damage was already done. I was upset, but I did my best to stay upbeat for the sake of my parents.

However, it only seemed to get worse when my parents asked about my plans after school. I was keeping it a surprise for Christmas, but I thought maybe, to lighten the mood, I would go ahead and share it early. I told them how I had found a college that I wanted to go to, as it had a great graphic and web design program, and I had already completed the pre-enrollment process. There was a test that you had to take for acceptance, and I had passed it all. I just had to complete the last part of the enrollment, and I was set.

They also had apartments that you could include in your tuition that were in the area. They weren't quite dorms, as they were bigger and, based on the pictures, they were actual apartments. So I was pretty excited to have my own place. So, I told them about it. The light in my parents' eyes was enough to fill me with happiness again. My mom gave her little high-pitched voice and said how happy she was, and my dad said that he was proud of me and again offered to help me with my tuition. I was incredibly thankful for them and felt love.

but the happy feeling wouldn't last. Danny scoffed at me and said, Okay, it's just a pre-assessment. You still have to be approved to get in. To which I corrected him saying that I was approved. I was just under 18, so I didn't have an acceptance letter yet. They even explained that to me. He then laughed and said that that's not how the real world worked

and called me naive. I know it probably wasn't the right thing to do, but I was getting pretty upset. Everyone talked about him and congratulated him, but when it came to me, I was never good enough for him and I never understood why. I told him, do you want me to get the letter to prove it? And he responded by saying that he didn't need some kid trying to prove him wrong. My parents were trying to get us to stop, but I was already pretty annoyed. and I felt the need to stand up for myself and my parents.

What is your problem with me, Danny? I said angrily as I sat in my seat. My problem? You are the problem. I don't even know why you're here. You're not even part of this family. They just brought you in out of pity because your drugged-up mother left you to die. I remember the words like it had just happened, because it still hurt.

I knew I was adopted. My parents never tried to hide it from me, but they never made me feel like I was second best or unloved. I knew they loved me. But now I finally knew for certain. It was finally clear what I had always feared. Danny never loved me, let alone even liked me. And I tried hard for his approval. My dad yelled at him for what he said to me, but...

I just told them that I was okay and that I would like to be excused. I got up and started towards my room, even as my mom pleaded for me to stay. As I put my plate in the sink and started walking away, Danny continued to mock me, saying more hurtful things, and I just couldn't take it anymore. I know this last part was my fault, but I'd been pushed to my limit. You know, Danny, maybe they adopted me because they wanted a second chance at a second chance at a successful son. That was the first time

that I had ever heard my mom say my name in a negative tone. I knew I was in trouble, but I really didn't care. But as I walked down the hall, I heard the sound of a chair scrape across the floor, and heavy footsteps coming towards me.

Then I heard my parents shouting for Danny. I barely turned around when I was met with his fist to my face. I collapsed to the floor, and he proceeded to pull. hunch me a few more times in the face, and that was probably the worst pain that I'd ever experienced. I remember crying or maybe trying to, and I heard my parents yelling at him before I finally blacked out. I woke up shortly after as my mom was trying to clean my face up.

I was a mess. They took me to the hospital because I definitely needed stitches in my scalp, and, unfortunately, because I was, still a minor, they had to file a report. My brother was arrested, but none of us pressed charges, even when I was asked. I chose not to. My father really considered it, too, but I think deep down he didn't want to either. I had a long talk with my parent who told me that I shouldn't have said what I said,

and I agreed and apologized to them because I knew it wasn't true. They weren't disappointed at him, but for some reason, he seemed to think that. And I knew that they loved me and were proud of me too, but I just couldn't take his hateful comments anymore. This was two years ago, and I've only seen my brother briefly twice since. Once when my mom had knee surgery, and once when he stopped by their place to pick up some of his mail while I was visiting. I still go home to visit them for holiday breaks, but he never comes. They go out and have dinner with him instead. I even apologize to him for what I said, and all he said in return was,

okay? So not even an apology from him. I don't even know if he is sorry. Anyways, this was my crazy family story. Even though it wasn't too scary, it was scary enough for me knowing what my brother did to me. as a minor while he was a full-fledged adult. I still hope that one day we may have a normal brotherly relationship, but until then,

I guess I'll just pretend that I was an only child. As a child, the holidays were always filled with family, love, and fun. We all gathered at my aunt Lisa and Uncle Scott's house, and some of us were there early the day of Thanksgiving, and the last ones to leave. We had some folks that would trickle in here and there just to stop by for a bit before they had to go to another family member's home. We typically showed up around noon, as my mom would make a few side dishes at home, and then I would be tasked with making sure the box of containers didn't spill in the back seat. I loved going over there because she was my favorite aunt.

My Aunt Lisa was my dad's sister, and she was very eccentric, is the best way to put it. As more family showed up, I was excited when I saw my uncle Todd arrive. He was my dad's youngest brother, and while I loved all of my other family members, he was a top-tier uncle. He was always known for his playful antics, cheesy jokes, and the way that he could effortlessly become the life of the party. But the Thanksgiving of 2001 would, unfortunately, change how I felt about Uncle Todd. Everyone started showing up and testing out the side dishes while my grandma, Aunt Lisa, would shoe everyone away. There were a few of us kids playing in the yard, keeping ourselves entertained. Even when it came time for dinner, it went as well as any other family dinner.

Later that night, those of us who were still there were relaxing and trying not to pass out from food comas. A lot of my cousins had already left, but one of my older cousins was in their room. She was Aunt Lee son, Uncle Scott's daughter. A few of my younger cousins were either playing together or were asleep on the couch. So I'd been sitting on the floor watching TV. While I was sitting there, my uncle Todd came into the room and asked me what I was watching. I excitedly told him about the show, and as kids often do, I had to explain the whole plot of the story and the characters.

I watched him as I talked and could see his demeanor was different than what I was used to. He seemed somber, and his smile kind of felt forced. I asked him if he was okay, not knowing what else to do, and he smiled at me and said, Yeah, of course, buddy. Hey, why don't you come with me? We need to run to the store real quick. Your mom asked me to pick up something. Again, I loved my uncle Todd, and I thought going for me,

a quick ride with him would be fun. I still had my shoes on, but it had been cold outside, so I walked towards the corridor to get my jacket, but my uncle stopped me saying that I wasn't going to need it. He assured me that I could stay in the car in the heat when he got out. I thought that that made sense, so when he motioned to go out the back door, located in the living room that I was in,

I happily skipped out the door with him. The car ride started off, normal enough. Uncle Todd asked me about school, my friends, as we drove through the neighborhood. But as we turned on to the ramp to the highway, his tone and question trailed off, and I became curious as to where we were going. We didn't live far from my aunt and uncle's place, so I knew of at least one store that was close enough that we didn't need to take the highway.

It was silent for probably a few seconds, but it became pretty pretty much. awkward. I kept looking over at him and noticed how hard he was gripping the steering wheel while staring straight ahead. Then, without warning, Uncle Todd lit out a wail and started to cry, causing me to jump. You're lucky, you know, he said between his sobs. You've got so much time ahead of you. So much time to decide what to do with your life. So much time to fix all your mistakes? His words confused me, especially as they were met with tears.

I could feel the car was speeding up, going down the nearly empty highway, and I started to become terrified as well. As I felt the car shake from the speed, my uncle talked about missed opportunities, all of his unfulfilled dreams, and feeling trapped in a life that he never wanted. I could feel this huge sense of sadness looming over my uncle, and while I was now in tears from being terrified, I also found myself crying with him. And suddenly, Uncle Todd began yelling.

I could just keep going, you know. I could drive off an embankment. No one could stop me. No one would have to feel sorry for me and you would never have to experience this crushing reality of this hell that we call life. I didn't understand any of this, and I was terrified.

Uncle Todd was always so full of life and happiness. I only ever saw people show him love, including myself. Why did he seem so sad now? Why was he saying all of these things? I was young enough to not understand what was happening, but old enough to know that if something didn't change, we could both die. I choked back tears and finally found my voice enough to say, I love you Uncle Todd, no matter what.

He kept looking over at me, taking these deep breaths, and after a heavy sigh, I felt the speed of the car start to decrease. He continued to sob, but it slowed down little by little, along with the car. He got off the highway and took the back roads in silence. He sniffled a few times, but that was all the sound that was being made inside the car. As we pulled back into the house, he looked at me, patted me on the shoulder and said that he was sorry. He motioned for me to go ahead and get out, and I slowly hopped out waiting for him to follow. But he stayed sitting in the driver's seat with the car off. Shortly after I got out, the scene became pretty chaotic.

My mom came running outside, her face was red and streaked with tears. she instantly grabbed me in a hug telling me that I was okay, that I was safe. Everyone else was now outside, and several of my family members were shouting at Uncle Todd angrily. I was scared and relieved to be home, but all I could think about was my uncle. I shouted back at them to leave him alone, and they all looked back and forth between me and my uncle. Before I could really comprehend everything, the red and blue light showed up, and my uncle was forcibly pulled out of the car. I became even more scared from my uncle as no one would listen to me,

nor asked me what happened. And I felt like he was being looked at as a bad guy. But even though I was scared and I knew what he said, I couldn't bring myself to be mad at him like everyone else seemed to be. I didn't see Uncle Todd for a long time after that, even though I asked about him pretty frequently. We had a party at our house, and I was ecstatic to finally see him there, and while he seemed like the happy and cheerful uncle that I knew him as, this time it was different. It felt real.

He was warm and lighthearted. He was soft-spoken, and just all around had that aura to him that anyone would want to be around. I was happy to have him back. It wasn't until many years later that I fully understood the depth of the depth of the world. what had happened that day. As it may seem obvious to those of you reading this now, Uncle Todd had been battling some unseen demons and an overwhelming sense of despair that he thought he could escape from that night,

one that could have ended tragically for both of us, and changed our family's lives forever. Thankfully, he realized that night that he needed help. And, slowly, over the years, he found his way back to being who he wanted to be, the real Todd. And I will always be thankful for that. I don't know if it was something else that he saw or thought about, or if it was just my words that made him turn around that night,

but it's something that I will never forget. When I was in uni, I needed to pay my bills, and I got a job at the local Maccas to support myself, because awe study doesn't pay enough. I've always been a night owl and I figured the night shifts would be perfect for me.

It's either super busy or really quiet. The other staff members teased me when it was going to be my first night and told me that it was going to be fun. All the online order apps kept ordering, you know, Uber Eats, menu log, DoorDash, and all the others.

So I mainly spent time organizing the orders, checking to see if they were legit and handing food over. Then, I was asked to work at the drive-thru. Now, late-night mackus runs are a big thing here. I've done them plenty of times with my mates, too, and yeah, we were dickheads to people. The first lot of cars were okay, just some kids wanting some late-night munchies. The next car pulled up to order, and they used their horn right away. I could tell that they were going to be rude.

I asked them for their order, and they called me a variety of names, but I went ahead and took their orders. Better to get them out so they don't bother anybody. I didn't see this part, but I heard them shouting at my co-workers, calling her a C-word and a B-word. It's one thing to say it to me, but another to say it to someone else. They then threw their hot coffee and food bag at her.

We closed the window, and we called the police. They weren't done yet, though. They then threw something, and it actually broke one of the windows. Then they sped off before the police got there. Maka's has cameras, so we passed along that information and continued with our night. I don't understand why people pull this crap, but they can't. came back. They tried to get in, and they yelled at us through the glass window, banged on the doors, and said that they just wanted to speak with us. We did not let them in. They actually broke another of the windows and then spray painted the outside. People tend to act feral at Makas, and there have been fights and drug deals in our car park. It's absolutely wild. the best and the brightest come out,

and I hope people can tell I'm being sarcastic when I say that. Anyways, the cops came, they got arrested in the next day I told people about the shift. The next few couple of nights were pretty uneventful, same old, same old, but the next weekend, they were back. This time they came in during open hours, acting like nothing had ever happened.

We served them, and, of course, there was a mistake with their order. So, the Bogan's threw it on the floor, screamed at some 16-year-old at the cash register, and threatened to come back and stab us. Some of the other Bogan's told them to screw off, and then a fight erupted. I have no idea why people willingly come to Mokkas at this point. Chairs were thrown.

There was blood on the floor, and none of the people minding their own damage. business ended up getting hurt. But it doesn't end there. Oh no. This stupid freaking saga continues with one of the idiots coming back after his brother got arrested because we dobed him in. I think it was about four, maybe five days later,

not quite a week. It was after we were able to finally reopen. This smooth-brained moron thought it was somehow our fault that his brother got in trouble for doing what he did. He came in at nighttime, when the late-night staff and the morning crew were switching over. Fortunately, he wasn't as violent as his brother, and nothing got smashed up.

It was just more of a nuisance. He was hurted out, yelling and telling us that he was going to come back, but he didn't do anything. The family does come back every now and then. Most of the time they're okay. I don't understand how people can behave like this and still expect to be treated well. My managers are all so nonchalant about it.

So long as they pay and keep going back, it's fine, I guess. Part of the fun of working in a suburb next to a massive crap hole. If you've seen the series Housos on TV, that's pretty much where I worked back in the day. People there can be so freaking rough. So, that's my story. I don't work at Maccas anymore, but it was mostly a good job. I even got free Maccas pretty regularly, and some of the bosses were all right, too.

If you ever need more Macca stories, I got you, Birdman. So, yeah, that's my train wreck of a story. This happened back whenever I used to work the night shift, at a bar and grill-type restaurant, which would put it back between 2002 and 2004. I can't remember the exact day and month that it took place, but it was definitely somewhere and there. I'd been working there for a while by this time that this happened, and was definitely situated and understood the job.

I'd been there long enough to know the regulars, the people that showed up every day or twice a week or so, and I'd memorized quite a few of the oral, orders as well. To be honest, I hated the job, and I hated having to work until midnight, but it paid the bills, which was what I needed at the time. Thankfully, the rush of people usually came through at the beginning of my shift, and then it was just surviving until it got to go home. I remember that, on that night, we were actually quite a bit busier than we normally were. I was running around. I was running around.

around, taking orders, moving plates, taking people to tables, all the things I was asked to do because we were short-staffed. I had taken the order of a couple of tables and was running over to the station to put them in, when I heard someone let out a scream, which obviously caught my attention. As I looked up, I heard a deafening crash and watched as a car plowed through the front of our restaurant. glass flew all over the place, and all I could see were guests throwing themselves out of the way as the chaos unfolded. I stood there just watching this play out, as quick as it was. I never expected to be the kind of person that just stood there and watched as something like this happened in front of me, but the whole saying about train wrecks and not being able to look away was apparently true for me.

When the dust finally settled, I could see the car. It was a battered old sedan, and it had stopped about halfway in the restaurant. By some miracle, none of the customers were injured. They were all shaken and scared, but none of them looked to be too badly hurt. Our cook, Hank, a bit of a burly man, was the first to jump into action. He started shouting to call 911 and ran out of a man. over to the car. I was actually the one that grabbed the diner's landline and called it in. The whole time I was trembling and trying to piece together how something like this could have

happened. That was actually about the time that I noticed Jenna, one of our waitresses, was actually pinned against one of the booths by the car. I wanted to panic, but I tried to remain calm as I explained to the dispatcher what had happened, and then told Hank that Jenna needed help. Thankfully, she was conscious. She was pretty clearly messed up and in pain, but it was just her leg that was trapped. That's about the time when the driver of the car stepped out. He was an older guy, and I could smell the alcohol on him from where I was standing. He shoved the door open and stumbled out, clearly disordered.

and started shouting with a slur. He yelled out at us, Sorry about that. I could pay for the door. I just need to get a burger to sober up, because I have to work in the morning. I just stared at this guy with absolute shock. He really did not seem to notice what he had done.

He just kept shouting that he wanted a double cheeseburger with mayonnaise and started getting frustrated when no one was taking his order. Hank and a few of the customers were able to push the car back enough to free Jenna. She was pretty clearly terrified of what had happened, and I think that she realized how close to death she'd actually come that night. She said that her leg really hurt, but for the most part, she looked like she was going to be okay. The whole time they were helping her, the old man that was driving the car just stood there and watched them like they were inconveniencing him, until he decided to just sit at the bar and watch it all play out.

Thankfully, the paramedics and the police were quick, and they showed up within a few minutes. Jenna was rushed to the hospital, the medics were treating the patrons that had some minor injuries, and the police were very quick to arrest the old man that was driving, though he was pretty mad about that fact. He kept screaming that he wasn't even drunk, that he hadn't even been drinking

and that he just wanted a cheeseburger. Obviously, the night was over for the restaurant, and the rest of the night was a blur of talking to the cops and explaining what happened, calling the owner and the slow process of helping to board up the front. They told me that I could go, but part of me felt like I should help clean up after all was said and done. I think I was still in a bit of shock.

After a little bit, though, I crashed pretty hard. I think the adrenaline started ebbing away and I was drained. Working in food, for the most part, I feel like we meet and greet people and fully never expect them to have an impact on our lives. But that old man impacted so many people's lives in the most destructive way possible. Jenna ended up lucky to only have a broken leg, but she was a lot. We all were, which honestly was a shock to me. That man could have killed multiple people.

All it would have taken was a bit more pressure on the gas, being a couple of spots to the left where there were more people seated. It was a bit haunting to think about, and when the store finally reopened, I was still a bit nervous about pretty much everything. Jenna actually came back too, albeit in a much less work-heavy capacity, since she was still in a cast and had crutches. Hank was given an honorary award by the owner for jumping into action,

and both of those things were nice, but I think we were all still pretty freaked out about everything that had happened. About ten years ago, I worked night shift as a nurse assistant at an assisted living facility. The building itself wasn't old. It was built just a couple of years before I had started working there. Even so, several unexplainable things happened there. Occasionally, I saw black shadows in my peripheral vision.

In the middle of the night, the elevator would come downstairs and open with no one in it, and door alarms would go off with no one there. The experience that I'm about to share is the strangest thing that's ever happened to me. On night shift, there are three employees. One nurse assistant that stays on the memory care side at all times, one that stays on the assisted living side, that was me, and a nurse. The nurse and I were watching TV on the assisted living side around 1 a.m. And all of a sudden this old-fashioned 1910s style music started playing loudly in the distance.

I didn't think much of it at first. I thought that someone was blasting their TV or radio, and I was afraid that they were going to wake the other residents up. We were on the first floor next to the front door, and you can look over this area from the second floor balcony. It sounded like the music was coming from somewhere on the second floor, so we walked up the stairs. When I reached the area where I thought it was coming from,

the music faded away until I couldn't hear it anymore. I thought the nurse was playing a trick on. me, but he genuinely looked terrified. He also looked harder for the source of the music than I did, looking behind pillows and books for a speaker. I didn't look with him because it was clearly coming from a distance. We searched the entire building, but every time we would walk in any direction,

the music would fade away. It was loudest where we were sitting when it began. When we'd given up looking for answers, we went back to watching TV, and I tried my best to ignore it. After a few hours, I realized that it had finally stopped. The nurse and I worked together for two years after that, but we never spoke of that night again. The experience was so odd,

and it's the main reason that I'm able to keep an open mind when hearing some of the more bizarre glitch stories about things that I've never experienced myself. And thank you so much for sharing if you choose to do so. 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 can be, never forget it. And until next time, much love and sleep well.