As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 172 - Stories Of Survival

Episode Date: April 18, 2025

Today, on the 172nd episode of the As The Raven Dreams podcast, we have 3 True Chilling stories. These stories are intense, and center around someone who survived the ordeal that they were in. Viewer discretion is definitely advised on this episode. I know this is a shorter episode, but due to these stories being what they are, I wanted this to be a standalone on the podcast. If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to like or rate the podcast, and leave me a comment with your thoughts if the platform your own supports it! Scary story episodes 2 to 3 times a week (New stories On Wed/Fri, Comps/remasters on Sundays) If you have a story to submit, would like to find where to listen to the podcast, or want to find me on social media platforms, all of that info can be found at https://www.astheravendreams.com You can also send stories into my subreddit (r/theravensdream) or email them to me at [e-mail] Want to check out some ATRD Podcast Merch? ➤ https://teechip.com/stores/astheravendreams Or for signed merch ➤ https://ko-fi.com/AsTheRavenDreams I wrote a novel, "The Insomniac's Experiment" by Raven Adams! Check it out on amazon (Or you can email me for a signed copy!) Join Patreon to get early access and support the Podcast! ➤ https://www.patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams Check out my gaming channel with my pal Ghost_Ink ➤ @superNefariousBros On YouTube Disclaimer ➤ Episodes include a content warning for language and sensitive/disturbing content. Listener discretion is always advised. ALL Audio and visuals on this podcast are copyright of AS THE RAVEN DREAMS / RAVEN ADAMS and may not be duplicated, in any format. Bless This Mess. #AsTheRavenDreams #TrueScaryStories #GlitchInTheMatrix Thank you to all of the authors that have stories in todays episode... Ms.Cassidy, Gene, Caleb As Well As Any Author That Has Requested Anonymity. As This is a shorter episode, there is only one ad spot after the first story and none after that. TimeStamps… 1 ➤ 1:13 2 ➤ 13:32 3 ➤ 33:38 ----- #TrueScaryStories #AsTheRavenDreams #GlitchInTheMatrix #RedditStories And Remember; You are loved, you are important, and you are valid. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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The conditions can't Hey there, friends. Good afternoon. I hope you're all having a wonderful Friday. This is Friday whenever this episode goes up. So if you're not listening on Friday, I hope you're having a wonderful whatever day it is. Today's episode of the podcast is a collection of stories of survival. Now, what I mean by that is, in my mind, near-death experiences, though to most people, near-death experiences are a supernatural story or a paranormal story more so, where somebody has, an event that occurs whenever they're near death sort of thing. That's not quite what these are. These are stories where the submitter nearly died, but they survive. So, these are scary stories, potentially triggering to some people. They are pretty intense, but the end of the story does involve survival.

So there is a bit of an optimistic twist to them, if that makes sense. All that said, I hope that you enjoy these stories. raise my friends. I hope you have a great weekend. I hope I see you again here soon. But until then, enjoy. Between 2007 to 2011, I was working as an English teacher in rural Vietnam. I wanted to do something that was both rewarding and gave me the ability to travel, and I found the perfect job where I could do both. I lived very minimally in a small apartment, but I had made some friends and the kids were wonderful. They really liked it. when I brought in something that was more popular in the U.S., such as small snacks, candies, or games.

But there was one moment in my time there that left an everlasting effect on me. It was monsoon season, and the rain had been relentless for weeks. I was driving back from the small school where I taught, taking the rural route that I always did. The road wasn't great to begin with, as it was just packed with dirt and some gravel. but my tiny car handled pretty well on it, as I took it at least twice a day, every day. I remember checking my watch, and it was 4.47 p.m. There was this deep rumbling sound, like distant thunder, but it felt wrong, quite literally. That's when the front of my car just dropped.

Before I could even process what was happening, the ground beneath me just collapsed. I remember feeling it in slow motion. I remember my car tilting forward and feeling weightless for a moment, and then there was a massive impact that knocked me unconscious. When I came to, everything was pitch black. My head was throbbing, and my left shoulder felt like it was on fire. My car had landed almost completely vertical, wedged between what felt like rock walls.

I could hear water, or at least I hoped it was water, and not car fluids, trickling somewhere in the darkness. My phone had no signal, which was no surprise, because it was just a pretty cheap phone anyways. I just needed something that I could mainly make and receive phone calls on, so working underground, that certainly wasn't going to happen. I tried opening the doors to get out, but they were either jammed or pressed against the walls of whatever hole I was in. I couldn't roll down the windows because they were electric, and to be honest, it had to be turned off, and I wasn't comfortable trying to start it.

The only option I had left was to break a window, but damn if I didn't try. I tried with my heel, the end of my phone, and even just punching it, but it would not break. That's when I noticed water pooling at my feet. It was just enough to cover my toes, but it was building. It was just a trickle at the time, but as I held still and quiet, I could hear it picking up speed. That's when I started to panic. If I didn't get out of that car, I was going to drown.

By hour three, it was to my waist, and I was at a loss of what to do. I was desperate and didn't have anything to use as a blunt object, so I went back to using my cell phone to try to break out the window. My windshield was cracked and there was already water covering the bottom part of it, so I decided to try to use that to my advantage. I started hammering at the cracks with my phone and I could see the crack spreading, but it wasn't shattering. I wanted to cry, but instead, I tried to keep myself calm and figure out a different way to get out.

First off, I'm not a small girl. I'm certainly not the type that can climb over seats in a car, sitting how it naturally should. So hoisting myself out of the driver's seat and trying to fight gravity was not an easy task. But I thought I should try kicking it while wearing my heels, since I might have been able to work that out with more force that way. I kicked a few times, pressing my back between the two front seats to hold me up.

I kicked and kicked until finally the glass broke, but not because of me, because part of the road fell onto my car, breaking the windshield and what I thought, my leg. It smashed down onto my leg, glass and gravel pushing against it. It was an excruciating pain at the time, and I remember yelling out and crying,

and now I had to figure out how to pull my leg out. I screamed for help at this point, being pinned by this chunk of earth and shivering from fear and how cold the water was. The problem was, this was. road was rarely used, especially during bad weather. I was afraid that no one would hear me, no one would find me, and I would drown in the sinkhole, and when they did finally find the hole, they wouldn't see or hear anyone, and they would just fill it back up, leaving me in a

watery tomb, and no one would even know where I had gone. As the water rose to my chest, I actually started singing to keep myself sane. I would sing anything I could remember. Disney songs, my favorite songs, then started making up new ones. Anything to distract me from the cold water and absolute darkness building around me. That's when I heard a voice. I went quiet and listened. My Vietnamese was terrible. I could have the most basic conversation in it and some food items, but that was about it.

I certainly didn't know what they were saying to me, but one word I did know was help. I just remember leaning over trying to wave my arms to the windshield where there wasn't any water and shouting help over and over again, going from Vietnamese to English. They called back something that I couldn't understand, and then there was silence. At that moment, I had never felt more alone. I had no way of knowing if they understood, if they were going to get help, or if they just walked away thinking they hurt an animal or something. all I could do was hope that they went for help and that the water would slow down.

I remember crying again at that point, thinking there was no way that they could save me in time. Even if they did come, they couldn't just jump down here. What if more of the road broke away and swallowed them up too? What if they didn't have a way down here? When the water reached my chin, I was pretty much ready to accept my fate. I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing and told myself that it was better this. sway rather than flailing, suffocating, and dying in fear. I sat motionless ready to take my last breath when I heard the sound of very large engines.

I tried my best to focus, and that's when I heard the talking. I tried my best to focus, and that's when I heard the talking. I called out for help again, and I finally heard a reply that I understood. We'll get you out. I could cry just thinking about that. I didn't know how they were going to do it before I ran out of oxygen, but they did. I could see someone through the back window, their shadow getting bigger and bigger, and I realized they were coming down.

They told me to take cover, and I took a deep breath and went under the water. I could hear the thud and the glass breaking. After a few seconds, I came back up and reached out to their hand through the back windshield. To get a better idea, my foot was stuck at the front windshield. I was wedged, kind of floating between the two front seats, and had my neck stretched out as far as I could to reach what was left of the air. This man grabbed my hands. I don't know if he knew that my leg was stuck or not, but he pulled. This was some of the worst pain that I'd felt, as the glass scraped against my leg, but he didn't stop.

He pulled, and I wiggled until I was finally free, balancing myself on the back of my car, my arm around his shoulders. He asked if I was okay and I said yeah. I don't think either of us knew what to say in that situation. Once we were out, he tried his best to explain how they were going to get us out now. The rescue took another hour or so as they had to secure the area and figure out how to reach me without causing another collapse. This man, however, had tied himself to a tree and hoisted himself down in the hole to at least be with me, to make sure that I wasn't trapped. I later found out that the hole was about 30 meters deep,

and my car was wedged about halfway down. If it had fallen all the way, I wouldn't be writing this. Finally, they were able to start the rescue. The man yelled something back in Vietnamese, and someone from above dropped down some supplies. He started strapping all this rope and gear to me explaining that they would pull me up. as much as I was ready to get the hell out of there, I still offered to let him go first. He smiled and told me, no, ladies first, and then I was hoisted up.

I remember holding on to that rope so tight. I looked down at the man once before I had to close my eyes and fear. I was worried the rope would snap, dropping me to my death, or that more of the road would collapse dropping an emergency vehicle right on top of us both. But thankfully neither happened. They got me up. I got a few more bumps and nicks once back to the surface, but they quickly pushed me away from the blocked off area

and made me take off the gear. I stood by a small woman who seemed to know a bit more English, while the other guy that helped ran back to the hole, tossing the gear down again. I watched as they pulled the other guy out, and he looked as calm as possible. Like it was just another normal job for him. Once he was out, I bawled like a baby.

I hugged the woman, the man that pulled me out of the car and thanked them like crazy. I know singles aren't uncommon in Vietnam, but having never dealt with that before, being in a foreign country, to me, and barely being able to speak to them made it that much more terrifying for me, and these people risked their own lives to save me, to save one person, and that I will never forget. I learned later that the person that initially called out of it, for me, did understand when I said help. They were trying to ask how many were down there, but I didn't understand that part. If he hadn't decided to take me seriously and tell someone, I wouldn't be here.

The man that pulled me from my car was actually the father of one of my students. He recognized me when he saw my face. I felt bad, but I didn't recognize him at first, but to be fair, my mind was all over the place. The physical recovery was relatively quick. I had a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, and surprisingly didn't even break my leg. The skin was pretty shredded all around, and I still have some pretty nasty scars on it, but it's always a great conversation starter. I think the mental recovery was the hardest part.

I was afraid to drive, especially alone. I'm terrified of heights now and seeing those deep potter. holes, damn near gives me a panic attack. But I'm alive. I'm alive to tell myself that the experience was once in a lifetime. It helps most days. I stayed there for another year and a half before I moved back to the States. And even with it nearly killing me, I would go back.

It was still a peaceful area otherwise, and the people were kind. In fact, kind doesn't even begin to describe them. I will never forget the selflessness to all those involved that day. They saved my life, and that is something I will never take for granted. Beavenue at board of Viarai. Embarked and profite. Embarked and relax. Ciroat, bookine.

Oh, that also. And profite. Viarai, the voice that we love. Just a quick heads up. This story does require a convent. content warning, as it does dabble into some very, very serious and potentially triggering topics in some detail, not a ton of detail, but definitely some. So these topic matters do involve abuse and violence at the hands of a family member, so that's just the trigger warning there. And we'll continue to the story now.

I'm pretty new to your channel, but I'm fairly keen on the family secrets and similar videos because of something that happened to me as a young child. It was a pretty dark and terrifying moment in mine and my mother's life, but now that I'm almost 50, I have healed for the most part. I know my mother doesn't like to talk about it, however. It's taken me a while to finally sit down and type all this up, but I decided I would like to share the story with you and your audience, too. Before I get started, I do want to warn you that it is pretty graphic, and deals with domestic

abuse. I'll only include the stuff relevant to the story, but I just wanted to give you a trigger warning in case someone doesn't want to listen. I also want to say that I was pretty young, and while I remember a lot of it, there are parts that my mother had to tell me about, or explained, so there will be both perspectives in this. Here it goes. This happened back in the summer of 1987, when I was eight years old.

My father was a horrible human being. My mother and he were forced into what many would refer to as a shotgun wedding. Mistakes were made, and I was born into a very hostile environment. While my mother did everything she could to raise me, take care of me and give me the love every child should know, my father was the opposite. All he wanted back then was, for lack of a better word, one night stands. But his luck ran out when my mom was the first one that got pregnant. He didn't want a kid, let alone a family.

He still wanted to be carefree and be with anyone he wanted. Of course, a ring and a child didn't stop him. He still did what he wanted, had affairs, stayed away for nights on end, and my mom, who was only 16 at the time, couldn't do anything about it. There were several times where she went without eating to make sure that I could. And before anyone asks, no, her family didn't want to help either. They practically disowned her after she confessed that she was pregnant. She tried to work where she could, wherever they would allow her to bring in a baby,

until I was old enough to go to school. But the older I got, the more I witnessed, and even experienced the abuse. When he was home, he was three sheets to the wind. My mom did her best to just ignore him and avoid him, but sometimes that wasn't enough. He would find some reason to be angry with her. He would find a reason to beat her. I used to cry when I saw it, but then he would smack me around and tell me to be a man, so I had to look away, put my head down just to prevent getting hit.

But then something miraculous happened. I was out of school, sick, and my mom didn't want to leave me at home alone, so she brought me to work. At the time, she was cleaning houses and had brought me with her to one of her customers' homes. It was an older woman, the kind that I wished was my own grandmother. She was what I would imagine in a grandma. When I would go with my mother to her home, she always had something prepared for me. She had no kids, no sign that any lived or visited but for me, specifically. She bought a small basket with a few toys, and some books for me to keep occupied while I was there.

She was a wonderful human being. I remember listening to my mother and her talk, and she did everything she could to convince my mother to leave my father. She said that she would help her, and even though. even offered to let her stay in her guest room until she found her own place. I remember begging my mother to take it. I remember telling her how I would have so much more fun here with her, but I think it was a pride thing.

And I could never blame her for that. She wanted to do it all on her own, so she declined the offer. Until one day my father beat her so hard she didn't leave the house for a week. I remember how swollen her I was and how awful I felt looking at it as much as I did. I remember the guilt because it was my fault. He had grabbed her by her hair, and I kicked him in the leg, yelling at him to let her go. He kicked me hard enough to toss me back, causing my mom to react, turning his attention back to her. When she was able to open her other eye again, she went back to work, and that was when that woman offered again.

and that time she took it. I remember my mom packing a large suitcase with all of my clothes and told me to fill the box with all of my favorite toys because she couldn't promise that I would get to keep all of them. I remember being really sad about it, but I could tell by the tone in her voice that this was important, so I did as she asked. I remember taking the suitcase and the box to the woman's house,

and she actually had given us full rain of her basement. There's actually a decent-sized room down there where we kept our stuff and a small area behind the room, with a divider separating the laundry area. She told me that I could use that as my own playroom, and I was pretty excited about it. It was almost the size of my room, anyhow. The next day, my mom picked me up from school

and told me that she would be doing that from now on and to not get on the bus again. Everything was fine for those first few days. My mom was basically the living housekeeper, but the woman still cooked for us sometimes, giving my mom a break. And it just made me realize even more how much I was missing out on such a loving and safe home environment. She asked me about school and she told me stories. I could tell my mother was a lot happier and relaxed being there too. I was ready for this life.

Then, there was that normal day at the grocery store where everything came undone. It was a Sunday morning. My mother and I went to the grocery store for one of the errands that she would run. As we were heading to the car, another car pulled up next to us, and we heard a familiar voice call out, saying my mother's name. I saw the way her whole body went rigid, just as she did at home. We both turned and saw my dad sitting in some car. that we didn't recognize. My mom did her best to be strong.

I could hear it in her voice as she asked him what he wanted, something she would have never done at home. He claimed that he wanted to talk, and she refused. He made a comment about going to the police because he wanted to see his kid. After some hushed arguing, my mom begging him not to do this, her shoulders finally dropped as he demanded we get in the car. She said that she was technically working,

so we had to make this quick, and told me to hop in the back, assuring me everything would be okay. I will add here that, at this point, my mother was already working on the custody part and a restraining order, but at the time, back in the 80s, it was more of a challenge for her, at least, with the police that she worked with. I don't know if anyone had a different experience with it. her fear was since the custody wasn't finalized she didn't want him to risk claiming that she kidnapped him and then lose her chance of getting full custody again I don't blame her for this

she did everything she could so we did as he demanded we got in the car and he sped off my mom asked where we were going and he said somewhere they could talk in private as a family I remember thinking he was just going to us home, but that wasn't the case at all. He kept going down roads I wasn't familiar with, gravel streets with no signs, until we arrived

at some old farmhouse in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. There was nothing else around us, not a single soul or car on that road that we took. What's worse is that I had drifted off multiple times, and from what my mother told me afterwards, we were driving for a little over an hour. He took us somewhere far away from what we knew. My mom didn't move from the seats, so neither did I. My dad got out, walked around to her side, and dragged her out of the car. I watched, terrified as she fell to the ground, being dragged by her arm.

Then he opened my door and started doing the same to me. I got out a bit more willingly, not wanting to get scratched up. He then yanked my mother up, yelling at her to get inside. I remember clinging to my mother, afraid to let her go. Once inside the house, it was nearly furnished, but everything was covered in dust. I didn't know where we were what this place was. He told me to go sit on the couch, and he turned on this old TV that was playing something

I was not interested in. I think they were talking about lawn care or something, but I just pretended to be interested in it. not wanting to turn around and witness what was happening behind me. I could piece it together in my head from the sounds alone. There was yelling, You don't get to leave me, you didn't want us in the first place. There were sounds of flesh hitting flesh, sounds of pain and crying from my mom,

yelling, and all I could do was stare at the TV in front of me and cry. Knowing the moment that he saw the tears or heard me crying, I would get the same. I don't know how long it went on, but it felt like ours. Going through different shows. Eventually, I heard him tell her that if we even thought about leaving, he would kill us. Then I heard the front door slam shut.

I turned around and saw my mother in the worst condition I had ever seen her in. I just wanted to hug her and hold her and take away all of her pain, but I knew at that age I couldn't do anything. for us. We were there for six days. Six days of him beating her senseless, telling her to do things such as make us dinner. She struggled to move and he beat her more because of it.

But after the second day, he started tying her to the chair when he left. I didn't know it at the time, but I had fallen asleep after she comforted me and she was looking for a way to leave when he caught her in the act. So any time he left the house or even slept, She stayed there tied to the chair.

He just told me not to move from the spot in the tiny living room or else he would do the same to me. I was afraid that I was going to die if he did, so I listened. The fourth day she sat in the chair by the wall, slumped over, hardly moving. She didn't eat the day prior, and she hadn't eaten that day either. I was scared. I was afraid that she was dying and she would leave me with him. I tried to get her to drink water from my cup, but she choked, and I remember crying thinking that I was making it worse. But she still did her best for me.

She would look up occasionally and try to smile at me and whisper that we would be okay. I don't know if she believed it, but she still tried to do what she could from that chair to comfort me. But looking back at it now and talking to her about it, she had a plan. She was still planning an escape for us, or at least me. She was in a lot of pain and she definitely needed medical attention, but she made herself look weaker than she was. On the sixth day, he tied her up as he did, told me to stay on the couch and walked to the bathroom to take a shower.

Once we heard the shower start, I watched her as she shifted and wiggled, wincing more than usual. I watched over, staying on the couch, as she shifted. and looked over towards the hall where the bathroom was. Miraculously, she had freed her hand. I watched closer as she tried to lean over to her feet and immediately shot back up with a groan.

She looked at me trying to smile, which made her lip bleed. She held a finger to her lips, indicating to stay quiet, but then motioned me over there. She told me sternly but quietly that she needed my help untying her feet. I knew this could be bad. I knew that any moment he could catch her and kill her, but I didn't waste any energy. I immediately went to work on her feet. I couldn't untie my own shoes yet, so I struggled to figure out the knot,

but with her little words of encouragement and pointing me in the right direction, I got them loose enough for her to pull her feet through. As soon as she was freed, she grabbed my shoulders and told me to listen carefully. She said that no matter what happens next, no matter what I hear, No matter what happened to her, I should run. Then she told me that I had to remember this next part. She told me a series of directions. Right, left, left, right, straight, left, right.

She told me it was very important to remember that. We repeated it together several times, and then she made me repeat it until I got it right. She told me to put my shoes on and she stood by the door trying to slip on her own. That's when I heard the most terrifying thing in my life. What the hell are you doing? We both jumped in turn to see my dad in his boxers staring at us. His face red and twisted in anger.

The water was still running. He had tricked us, whether it was intentional or not. He walked towards my mom, and I remember feeling like I was going to have an accident. He instilled that much terror in me. He grabbed my mom by my mom by, the throat and her last words at that point were, run. I remember watching for a split second as he grabbed her and slammed her to the ground. I opened the door and hesitated for a split second.

I almost turned around to look, but the sound my mother made scared me as much as my father's voice. I knew if I turned around, I wouldn't be able to leave, so I ran. God help me, I ran down that road repeating the pattern in my head. Right, left, left, right, straight, left, left. right, trying everything I could to remember it. I got as far as the first few turns, but my child's brain was a jumbled mess of fear, confusion, guilt, and sadness.

I feared for my own life as well as my mother's. I was sad that I left her behind. I felt guilty for not being able to save her and confused as to why he was doing all of this. He didn't care when we were around and then he did after. we left, but continued into his normal routine, but ten times worse. All I could do was run and hope I remembered the right directions. Then I heard one of the best sounds I had heard all week, tires on gravel approaching. They were coming from the direction I was going, but for a moment I was terrified that it could be my father coming for me. I stopped and started slowly walking backwards,

ready to run back through the field that I had come from. But the car that I saw was not what my dad had been driving. It was a station wagon, and I watched as they slowed down, and a little old lady opened the driver's side door. She looked at me confused and asked where I came from, and I just broke down. I remember shivering, but I wasn't cold, and telling her that he was killing my mom. She asked me where, and I just remembered. saying the directions my mom gave me.

She told me to get in the car and she drove me a while, asking me about myself until I fell sleep. Everything after that is fragments. I remember waking up in the car and being at some kind of auto mechanic shop. There was a car with no tires on it and large farming equipment. I noticed the woman wasn't in the car and I began to panic. I know I was nowhere near my dad, but I was still worried that she may be taking me back there, or even worse, that my mom wasn't getting the help she desperately needed. The woman came back out shortly after, seeing me in tears and comforted me again, and told me

one of the best things I'd ever heard. She told me they found my mom and she was going to be okay. She took me to the hospital a few hours after that, and she waited with me until my mom was out of surgery. She had a broken eye socket, a ruptured spleen in a fractured skull, two broken ribs and four fractures. Every breath she took hurt. She refused to eat because of concussion she had, making her sick to even look at food. When they found her, she was lying unconscious on the back porch. Her head split open and barely breathing. Apparently my dad thought he had killed her, and they found him digging in the backyard. You can kind of see what I'm getting at here.

The paramedics told her that if they had been ten minutes later, he would have been right. She was in the hospital for weeks, but that woman we moved in with showed up and took care of me until we brought my mother home. My mother survived nearly dying by the hands of a man that was supposed to love her and protect her. And even through all the fear in her little body, she still made sure that I would get out alive. She had remembered the directions it took to get there and simplified them for me to remember. She won't admit it, but I don't think she expected to leave there alive. She's in her 60s now, and she's still the strongest person I've ever known. Most of the physical scars have healed, but she still gets some pretty bad migraines.

My dad died back in prison in 99 after getting into a fight with another inmate. He had an aneurysm. Mother says that it's only proof that violence will eventually consume everyone who lives by it. So there's my story of the most terrifying thing to happen not only to me, but my mother as well. And to anyone that might be going through anything remotely similar, just know that you are worth the effort and the time. Someone out there is willing to help. Just know that you're not alone and when you're ready to take action, we're here for you too.

After learning that you also live in Kansas, I decided I should share the story that happened to me back in the early 2000s. It was a pretty terrifying experience, so I think it should fit in. I work in grain storage and transport. Barry Kansan of me, right? Well, I survive something that kills dozens of people every year in this job, and not just those that work with grain. I wanted to share this because a lot of people don't realize how dangerous it can be,

but I was almost buried alive in a grain silo. It was a pretty routine inspection in our facility. I had checked hundreds of silos before, and everything seemed normal that morning. The silo was about half full of corn, and I was checking for moisture levels that could lead to spoilage. The standard procedure is to use a safety harness, but I had forgotten mine in the truck. I was young and stupid, and just being lazy at that point.

I didn't want to go all the way back to get it, and I told myself that it was just a quick check. Well, that decision almost killed me. I was walking on the grain with the moisture meter when I felt something changed beneath my feet. The surface had shifted. Anyone who works with grain knows what that means. A void space had formed.

underneath, probably from moisture clumping, and before I could move, the surface collapsed. Grain is much like quicksand, but faster and more powerful. Within seconds, I was waist-deep in corn. I tried to pull myself out, but every movement you make only makes you sink faster, and that's exactly what happened to me. The grain acts like a fluid, and the more you struggle, the quicker it pulls you under. I remember when I started this job and them teaching us about the dangers. I remember them saying that if the grain gets above your chest,

it's best to start saying your prayers. The corn reached my chest as I struggled to get my phone from my pocket, but I wasn't successful. I couldn't keep trying and risking burying myself. Not to mention the chances of having signal were slim anyways. Those silos are basically concrete tubes and they dampen sound. But the next problem with this was that the next inspection wasn't scheduled for hours. I had to try and survive for at least an hour before help showed up, but the grain doesn't stop moving.

Every breath I took, every slight movement would keep it flowing around me, pulling me in deeper. I know this may sound funny to some, but being... Being buried in corn was not funny. It's not easy to move in it, and it can kill you. It managed to get to my shoulders, and my breaths were becoming more and more shallow, because of the weight of it pressing against me. Every time I exhaled, the grain would press in tighter to the point that my breaths became a fight. Something else I learned in our training was, if it does get higher than your chest,

then you should cup your hands around your face and create an air pocket, it's if you go under. So, that was my only option. I stopped struggling, cupped my hand around my nose and mouth, and raised my left hand as high as I could, hoping to buy me some more time. Then, all I could do was slow my breathing

and hope to God they found me before I suffocated. Those moments, knowing they very well could be your last, are some of the most difficult things to deal with. When people talk about their life flashing before them, it's absolutely true. I thought about my life up to that point. I was only 28 at the time, and I had a four-year-old daughter. I was afraid of leaving her and my wife and ashamed of being so stupid and lazy, afraid of dying, but I had to continue to keep calm so as to not go under any faster.

The grain started to reach my ears, and the pressure was, was incredible. This had to be comparable to being buried alive in wet cement. The grain pushed against my hand and tried to force its way into my ears and nose. And the sound was awful.

Hearing the constant shifting and crushing sounds all around me, I held my eyes closed and felt the kernels pressing against my face. And as I existed there, motionless, accepting that this was it, I heard something above me, a mechanical sound.

It was the auger, the machine that moves grain out of the silo. Someone must have come in early, and it was the first time that I wish they hadn't. The movement of grain would pull me under completely in no time, but completely, unexpectedly, the grain level around me started dropping. As it dropped lower and lower, I was able to take a full breath again, and at that moment, it was one of the best feelings in the world. Then, I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could that I needed help.

Thankfully, it didn't take long because my voice was already getting hoarse from the yelling. They hollered for me, and I told them that I had gotten stuck. From there, the rescue took around two hours. They had to secure the area first to make sure no one else ended up trapped or hurt. You'd be surprised by how many people are hurt or even killed trying to rescue someone else that was initially trapped. They had to build this cofferdam around me, to prevent the grain from moving with me, and then add the rescue tubes, which were basically just giant metal sheets that held back the grain too. Then they used a vacuum system to remove the grain around me, colonel by kernel.

I knew I was going to be okay at that point. I wasn't alone, but the fear of it was. all collapsing on me and burying me more still lingered. By the time they pulled me out, I couldn't feel my legs. The pressure of the grain had cut off circulation. There were grain particles embedded in my skin, and I actually had early signs of crush syndrome. The doctor said if I'd been under for even 10 or maybe 15 minutes more,

the weight of the grain could easily have caused organ failure. That was a pretty terrible. terrifying thought, knowing that I was that close to death. I knew the dangers of sinking into it, but it causing organ failure was not something that crossed my mind, which set in even more of a panic. I got back home and I hugged my wife and daughter tighter than I ever have. I don't like being in small cluttered places now, fearing that I used all of my luck that day. But I also refused to go in those silos without my harness. I absolutely learned my lesson.

And as I became a trainer for the newbies, I now use my own story of survival to teach them what not to do. Hey there, friends. I hope that you enjoyed this collection of scary stories on this episode of the As the Raven Dreams podcast. If the platform you're on has the option to follow podcast and you enjoyed my work, please do consider doing so. Also, leaving ratings and reviews are super important for the algorithm to support the growth of the podcast. I'm just one guy doing this.

I don't have a team. It's literally just me doing everything. So any support like that is greatly appreciated. Never expected, though. So if you go above and beyond with that, I do appreciate it. Some platforms also allow you to leave comments, and if you feel inclined to do so, please do. I would appreciate that. I do have a Patreon in a merch store that you can also check out if you want to support a little further.

The Patreon side of things get you early access to all of my content. It is formatted differently as it goes in line with what my YouTube channel is, but it is the same stories. Just different collections. There is also a website, astherravendreams.com, where you can check out pretty much everything about me, my social media platforms, fiction stories I've written if you want to read those, as well as submitting your own stories, which there's a big button on the front page, you click to do so. And those stories basically keep the podcast alive, to be honest with you. So, yeah. All that said, friends, I do hope that I see you again here very soon. Until then, remember that you are loved, that you are valid, that you are

important. You're the best you that you can be. Don't forget it. And until next time, Much love. And sleep well. Lazzang sur-gillet, puissance-moyerned 15 minutes. We're like it's the dojo.

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