As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 184 - Creepy Encounters & Paranormal Stories

Episode Date: July 14, 2025

Today, on the 184 episode of the As The Raven Dreams podcast, we have 10 True Chilling stories. These stories come from the shadowy corners of reality, where everyday life takes an eerie twist & ordinary people experience the extraordinary. Today we will be diving into terrifying encounters with the paranormal as well as some let's not meet style creepy encounters. 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... Gia Fisher, Bron Roberts, Joseph Sturm, Mel Rose, EmmaRose, Jorge, Hidden Fox, Larissa R, Sidney Blue, Dakota B As Well As Any Author That Has Requested Anonymity. TimeStamps… Ad spots after Story 1 and Story 4 1 ➤ 1:29 2 ➤ 22:30 3 ➤ 26:28 4 ➤ 38:20 5 ➤ 41:44 6 ➤ 47:23 7 ➤ 49:13 8 ➤ 52:46 9 ➤ 57:40 10 ➤ 1:09:45 ----- #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

Hello there, friends. Hopefully you are doing well on this... Monday? I'd to figure out what day it was. It's all blurring together for me, honestly. Keep it on like it's Tuesday, but it's not. Um, yeah. Today we have a collection of some paranormal and stalker stories,

some fairly classic subjects, the ones I've done forever, so... Nothing too surprising in this collection, but they are good stories, as always. I don't know if you could tell, but I do have a bit of a vocal issue going on today with my throat, Don't know what that's about, but trust me, the stories do not sound like this. These were recorded prior to this, so I think it's the dry air.

I had to drive for six hours over the weekend, and I had the AC on the whole time because it was warm, so I just blasted myself for six hours with really dry air, and my sinuses hated it. Good times, right? Of course, without a doubt, somebody will still comment on this podcast on Spotify telling me that I'm an AI, even though I have sinus issues. Never knew of an AI and have sinus issues, but what do I know? I'm just some dude. Sorry, robot.

I'm just some robot. Sorry. Bad joke, I know, whatever. Enjoy the stories, my friends. If you do, please leave me a comment on Spotify, if that's where you are. Or if you're on another platform, just consider rating the podcast. Send your stories to Astherravendreams.com or email me at Astherravendreams at gmail.com. And of course, enjoy.

Hello again, Raven. I hope all is continuing to go well with you and patience. I'm glad you both made it back safe. from your recent trip and I enjoyed the Sunday stream. Thank you. The story is the most recent one I can share and pretty much took place the Friday prior to the Sunday stream, even though there were a lot of things that led up to this story happening.

I've been working at Emperor's Pizza for almost a year at this point, and even though I needed the money, it's been one of the worst working experiences I have ever had. There have been some good days and I don't want anyone to think that I didn't have any cool days at work, but a lot happened there that I honestly wished I didn't have to deal with. I've explained some of the chaos and other stories that you've read on the channel, but there's been quite a bit more that deals specifically with me that has happened while working there. I don't know if there needs to be a content warning, since one of the things that happened to me deals with inappropriate touching,

and may trigger someone, but here's the saga of everything I've dealt with personally, while working at Emperor's Pizza. When I was first hired to make dough, I was honestly excited to have a job. My wife and I had just moved to our new area and gotten our first place together as a married couple, after a year of couch hopping, hotel hopping, and sleeping in our car as the result of being rendered homeless. When our previous landlord randomly sold the house and kicked us, and two other tenants out abruptly at the end of 2023.

I leaned at the job at Emperor's Pizza alongside the contract work and odd jobs that I picked up, and honestly I enjoyed making dough. My first partial red flag was that I wasn't issued a uniform to wear, and the district manager was all about uniforms. It took me about two months of asking, and I finally got some worn-out, used uniform to wear when the previous dough person happened to drop by to say hello, and my manager Carly asked her for her old shirts. It was better than nothing, so I laundered them and began to wear them.

The next red flag was the fact that the district manager, Amber, yes, that's her real name, was stealing money from the stores safe, and everyone knew about it. I figured it out on my own, but my manager told me that Amber had been stealing from our store's location safe for a while, and would replace the money right before the audits came in from corporate to avoid suspicion. I asked her why no one reported the issue, but Carly told me it was because there was leverage that Amber had on pretty much everyone at the store, except me. By leverage, I mean Amber knew about who was smoking weed inside the bathrooms, stealing food and drinks, coming in late.

Amber treated everyone like they were imbeciles, but I always just did my own. my work and didn't get involved in the antics of the kitchen, since my dough room was a separate space away from the main kitchen. The next red flag was the oversaturated presence of inappropriate discussions that happened at work. Yes, I'm a guy, and yes, it's super uncomfortable when you're added to what is supposed to be a work crew chat, and instead of discussing scheduling or things at work, you're loaded with over 100 text messages of coworkers openly discussing adult content, making comments about each other in inappropriate ways, and even adding visual reference materials.

I had to keep the chat muted, and my phone silenced overnight, because the phone would literally go off all night long with hundreds of messages. It also didn't stay in the chat room conversations. The conversations at work became sexually suggestive. and one coworker took it upon himself to give us all adult worker nicknames. And then he wrote them on the public schedule, which could be seen from the front lobby. My wife came in once, and they all threw a fit over how beautiful she was. And then my manager made a comment that she's glad I told her who my wife was,

because apparently had I not done that, my manager would have gone to hit on her. She plays for both teams. The other co-workers would ask me things about my wife and I, and I would always tell them that I don't discuss my home life with my coworkers. And I told the manager. She herself was no better, being boastful about her own, quote, adventures and preferences. But she did tell the others to stop asking me about my personal life

and to stop assigning me nicknames. Then Amber decided to ramp things up, and this is where the trick is where the trick. trigger warning comes in. Amber is in her mid-forties, slightly heavy set, war glasses, and apparently she and Carly had a history of sharing the promiscuous stories with each other, as well as Amber being somewhat of a bully to Carly as well. I would sometimes catch Amber staring at me, and since the doorway of the doorme faces out

to the kitchen, and my work table is along the inside wall across from the doorway, my back was often to the open kitchen space. I've caught Amber staring at me on various occasions, and sometimes she would speak, and then other times she would just keep staring. There were a couple of days where she came in and came back to the dough room to check on me, and she would always stand too close for my liking,

and ask me how I was doing, you know, things that seem innocent enough but are honestly red flags. I already made it clear to the other co-workers that I do not like horseplay or touching, since a lot of them had begun this horrible habit of jump-scaring each other from around equipment, or getting into playfights and play wrestling, even in the bathroom. Again, most of the people hearing this story are probably wondering why I hadn't just quit this job already, but honestly, it was only because I needed to make money,

and my income was the only stable income at the time. I adopted a rule that I stick to myself, unless something someone else is doing affects my ability to do my job. There was a Friday that Amber came in with another manager from a different location. So they were shuffling bags of flour and jugs of oil out of the back door to the company vehicle. I was actually listening to a book and had my back to the chaos in the kitchen, and since the co-workers were trying to figure out who was ticklish or not. I would like to add this note here.

It had already been made clear to my co-workers that I don't horseplay, and I don't want anyone touching me, so they never engaged in any of these actions, even if I happened to pass through the kitchen to wash dishes or get equipment for the dough room. I remember standing there, and suddenly I felt hands on my hips, and fingers squeezing.

and reaching around from behind me, moving briskly towards my fronts and down. At the same time, Amber's voice lit out an exaggerated cackle from behind me, and I remember I tensed up. It took everything within me not to turn around and swing, because not only did I not know who it was initially, but I also didn't like the feeling of someone else's hands on me, unless it was my wife. I turned around and glared at her, and she laughed trying to play it off with, Ha, I bet I scared you, didn't I? But my face said it all. I don't remember what I said exactly, because I was very, very uncomfortable.

But it was along the lines of, do not touch me again, or there will be a problem. And I went back to working on the dough. Amber tried to say that she was kidding around with me, and Carly asked what happened, and I later on told her that Amber had grabbed me from behind. Carly said it was odd because apparently Amber didn't get physical with anyone else at the store, even if they were being playful like the others were. I told her I wanted to report it, but Carly said that she would handle it. I did call my wife when this happened,

and I was so angry that I had tears in my eyes, because all I wanted to do was just finish my work and be left alone. My wife asked me if it was being handled, and I told her that Carly said she would handle it. Turns out, all she did was talk to Amber about it, and then Amber spent the next few weeks trying to get me fired, sending me home early or taking hours off of my schedule, which then affected my income and household, and then treating me like crap until she eventually got herself fired

when corporate ordered an audit with a pop-up inspection, and they caught Amber taking money out of the safe. They reviewed cameras at all the locations she'd been assigned to and found out she had been stealing small amounts from all the locations, but it racked up to somewhere around $900 in safe audit discrepancies, all of which came out of her final check. I finally got a new uniform shirt when she got fired because they cleaned out her work vehicle and found boxes of new supplies.

including shipments of uniforms that she had hoarded inside of it. The next issue I had was when we tried to hire a new guy to help with dough. And to keep it short, he was lazy, a creep to the women and men who worked with us, and he found a way to break the dough machine that I used for cutting and rolling the dough. I had to make the dough by hand, and being that I am the only person who was trained to make it, It meant that I had to make double of everything for the days I wasn't scheduled to be in. Carly was also trained in making the dough, but she apparently didn't like making it anymore since I was hired.

And she also had me train the new guy because she didn't want to do that either. The new guy did get fired when he stopped showing up, but he caused damage to the equipment, which meant that I went from working six-hour days to 12-hour days, hand-cutting, rolling, and sheeting the dough. I asked Carly several times if management would send someone to repair the equipment, and she would always tell me that corporate was looking into it. But when the regional manager came in herself around Thanksgiving time, I was told that new equipment wouldn't be ordered,

and that they hadn't put in a work order request because the machines hadn't been reported as down. It still took an additional two months after this conversation for someone to finally, come out and look at the machines. And, turns out, they couldn't do anything for the machines because they weren't under warranty. So, corporate stopped sending people out because they didn't want to pay for the maintenance team to do nothing. And since there wasn't anyone else who could do the dough, I spent most of my days at work from morning to night. And then we would run out a day later. I caught my coworkers playing catch with the dough and dropping it on the floor.

floor. I left a very livid message in the group chat about it, to which the response was that I was attacking my coworkers and blowing things out of proportion. Eventually, a few of them apologized to me, especially when they realized I had learned how to work the kitchen in the register as well, and began asking me to watch the front or help in the kitchen. I didn't mind helping out at first, but soon, it became

an issue where co-workers would leave to go to the donut shop, or leave to drive people home, and basically leave one person in the kitchen and myself to watch the counter, to run the make line and so on. The manager also would ask me to jump up front here and there since I was originally supposed to be training to move up, but ultimately, it made it harder for me to leave on time since no one would help me in the dough room. I would do all of the dishes, take orders, make pizzas, and box them, and then also work on making the dough by hand. Corporate found out that I was being used as a kitchen person, when coworkers started coming in late or using, oh, that's okay, foxes there, as an excuse to not come in. Even though I wasn't

scheduled for the kitchen, and corporate got on Carly for allowing this to happen, because it was costing the store and labor for me to work in both places. They then made an announcement that I'm not allowed to leave the dough room for anything. My co-workers started to become openly indifferent towards me after this, since they couldn't use me to cover for the kitchen or help them out. It was only fair, since no one from the kitchen ever wanted to help me in the dough room. And at one point, the co-workers started an argument with the manager about it, because we tried to hire another person to make dough and she quit a week later.

and now corporate said that someone else in the store had to be trained in making dough beside me. In the end, Carly made a deal that whomever from kitchen learned to make dough would never be scheduled to make any dough. Yeah, that's how she did it. I talked to her on various occasions about the workload of the dough room and how it was beginning to affect my physical, mental, and household health, since my stresses from work were traveling home. And my wife was trying to be understanding,

but at the time, she wasn't able to continue driving orders for Spark due to an app maintenance issue. So my job was the only one bringing in money, and I didn't have any contract work lined up. Carly would always tell me that she understood and then find a way to make what I said seem like it wasn't a big deal. But I began to notice that

after our conversations, she wouldn't ever follow up or fix the issues. She would say what she was going to do and eventually nothing would happen. She herself also dealt with the unprofessional antics of the work crew now costing her time and causing her issues. And eventually, she told me that no one else on the team beside me respects her, or her authority, and that there was nothing she could do. I told her that that was the result of her not enforcing issues and penalties, or using her authority as a manager to make sure the rules and policies are followed. But, she insisted that she doesn't want to be the kind of manager that always is writing people up, even though she literally had enough infractions documented to fire everyone who worked there except

me, since I had never been written up. A week later, I received a phone call from an unknown number, claiming they knew where I worked and that my wife was at home, and that they would, quote, be there soon. To which I hung up and called my wife telling her to put the house on lockdown, because someone just called me saying they would be there. I later found out that one of my coworkers had gone into the bathroom and prank called me. Unfortunately, we had a similar situation happened to us years ago, where someone threatened to come to our home and hurt us,

and we spent several weeks on alert because of it. So I told my co-worker to never, ever call me like that again, joke or not, and I reported it to Carly, who then brushed it off as a harmless joke. Well, the final part of this story begins on a Friday. After weeks of making tons of dough that seemed to evaporate every other day, Carly left a note for one of the co-workers to call me and give me a dough count so I could know what we were dealing with, which they never do. And I had already taken to coming in an hour early to work each day,

because my co-workers could literally be completely out of dough and not say anything to me about it. They had run out a few days ago, and while I was there, a co-worker told me that Carly knew they were low on dough, but she adamantly refused to make any while she was there, saying that I could just take care of it when I came in. That Friday, I walked into my dough room and saw a sticky note on my wall that read, What were you even hired for? Get to work.

There was a note on the whiteboard outside for someone to call me, which was written by Carly. But a response had been written beneath it on the whiteboard saying, no, B word. And of course, nobody had called me. I talked to Carly about it, and she simply erased the board and threw the sticky note in the trash, insisting that she knew who wrote it, and that it wasn't a big deal. I, of course, told my wife about it, and she checked on me and asked how I was doing,

because the night before, she and I talked about my job, and she told me how proud of me she was for toughing it through everything to provide for the household, even though the job sucked. I told her I was fine, but as I worked, I began to think about the note, and how a coworker had the audacity to write something, like this, as if I ever did anything at this job besides working.

I thought about everything I'd been through at this job, and I realized that I had in fact had enough. I told Carly that I would like to talk to her as soon as she can, and she said, okay, and then basically avoided me the entire day. In my mind, I said that if she does what she normally does and comes to talk to me within five to ten minutes of me asking, I'll get her to you. I'll get her give her a two weeks notice. If she didn't come to talk to me before she left, or I finished my shift, then today would be my last day. So, I made triple the dough, and Carly spent all day avoiding talking to me, coming to the dough room or otherwise wanting to socialize with me until I finished my final batch of dough, the last batch of dough that I would ever make for this company. I clocked out,

changed into my regular clothes and headed back toward the front of the kitchen where Carly said, I'll see you tomorrow, only she wouldn't. I reminded her that I wanted to talk to her, and she nodded and then turned back towards the make line to finish working on a pizza. And I told her exactly how I felt about everything, including the fact that she never came to speak to me like she normally does, and that I could tell she was avoiding me all day. I told her that had she come to talk to me earlier, I would have given her a two weeks notice. But since she elected to avoid the situation and basically sweep everything that's happened to me under the rug, today would be my last day working for Emperor's Pizza.

I explained everything to her and how I felt, and her reaction was to literally roll her eyes and say, honestly, I think you're just overreacting if you're quitting over a silly sticky note. was just a little joke. To which I explained to her that I've mentioned on several occasions that I'm not here to joke, or play, or be immature like the rest of her staff, and that my decision to quit was a reflection on how bad I had been treated while working there, and the note was more of a wake-up call or final straw,

not the sole reason. She didn't care to hear me out, so I just left. I know there were people who say that jobs aren't supposed to care about how, you feel and that you're there to do a job and leave and you're not wrong but this doesn't mean that you have to jeopardize your morality mental health and safety or security for a job i'd been through only a fraction of what many people have gone through in the food service industry and while i'm happy to be working for myself again i don't forget that some people may not have the choice to quit like i did this was a long time coming and i did have hopes that things would turn around

while I worked there. But with everything that happened to me, as well as the crazy things that happened in general in and around Emperor's Pizza, I'm glad that I got out when I did. Bejavu' a board of Viarai. Embarked and profite. Embarked and relax.

Ciroat, bookine. Oh, that also. And profite. Villaray, the voice that we love that we love. Hello, Raven. long-time listener here. I adore your work and how respectful, kind, and genuine you are. Well, thank you. I'm going to try my best to remember everything accurately, since I've not written these experiences down before. For starters, I grew up in a country home about ten minutes away from my

hometown. My parents bought our country house before I was adopted into the family, and have already made a home out of it. My first paranormal experience was told to me by my my older brother. When I was about four years old, he was babysitting me while my parents were out for the evening. We did what we did best and watched a movie together. During the middle of the movie, I turned and looked towards the dining table and asked, Big Brother, who is that lady sitting at the table? She looks like Corella DeVille.

He said that he felt the blood drain from his face and he froze. He didn't know how to answer me or even turn around. to look for himself. As I got older, my family would tell me what they had experienced before I was born. My grandmother was in the yard helping with gardening one day, and happened to look into our living room window, and was shocked to see a little boy skipping in a circle. He wore a white t-shirt and had dark hair,

and I did not have a little brother, and my siblings are ten years older than me. Also, there was nobody home, which is why she was doing the gardening for my mother that day. My father was the one to experience more than one paranormal event than the rest of us. He was walking by his tool shed one day and happened to notice an older man sitting on the front steps. He walked toward the shed to see who it was, and the man disappeared into thin air. I was also told the story of an elderly cat we once had. This cat was the absolute worst.

He would attack my siblings and nobody was able to pet or be around him. We would get coyotes around our yard that would unfortunately attack our pets and one day this cat was attacked. My father chased the coyote away and walked up to the cat just before he passed. As my father got closer, he saw this cat's face morph into a human face and quickly change back before its last breath. I will admit, I have never felt alone in this house. Sometimes it was comforting, and sometimes it gave an eerie ambience. One night, for example, I was in the tub, and it was just me and my mother home. She was sitting in the computer room down the hall while I had my bath time.

I played with my Barbies, and I heard whispering, and then I froze. When I listened, it stopped. I continued to play, and it would start again. I listened to the whispering and decided to call out to my mother. After I called out, the whispering stopped again. My mother came into the bathroom and asked what was wrong. I asked her if she was talking to me or even talking on the phone. She said no and was confused about why I was asking.

I didn't bother to tell her and just continued my bath. My parents were told that the country houses used to be cabins and were often rented out before realtors turn them into houses to sell to the townspeople. We did not know the land's history beforehand, and there weren't any disturbing occurrences found online either. Yes, I have tried looking into it. To this day, we don't know why we have seen these spirits. And I don't think we ever will. Hello, Raven. Before I start the story, I want to thank you for reading my last one, the first one that I submitted. It was a delight to hear your voice sharing my words.

I feel so honored, thank you. I feel honored that you allowed me to do so. I've just listened to your latest offering, and I thought I would share another story with you. In my world, death is a part of life, so I hope the story doesn't offend or upset anyone. So recently, my mother passed away. 25 years earlier, my father had what she called,

paved the way. They both agreed on cremation, and both had written what they wanted on a plaque on the memorial wall. The plaque backings are of uniform size, and the personal details and designs are engraved on a single plaque that's attached to the backing. My parents chose to share a plaque, so two smaller plaques on the same backing. First to go would share the first half of the saying they both loved. our love's journey knows no end

the other when their time came would complete it together forever two souls as one blend that's actually rather profound and beautiful my father's plaque needed to be removed so my mothers could be made to suit engraved and then added to the backings they were given a temporary and simple placeholder until the work was completed

it would I was told take at least two weeks. A week after the funeral, I woke with an overwhelming urge to go to the cemetery. It was a 45-minute drive each way, and I had a hundred things to do that day, but this voice in my head just kept telling me to go to the cemetery. The more I ignored it, the more insistent it seemed to get. By 2 p.m., it was screaming in my head. I gave up, cancelled what remained,

of my afternoon plans and headed out. I parked the car and headed over to the memorial wall. I could hear myself preparing to look at the temporary plaque that offered a little more than basic notifications of my parents' names and death dates. I knew I would be asking an angry, What do you want? But when I got to the place where the plaque should be,

I fell silent. There was no plaque. No temporary plaque, no permanent plaque with my parents, much planned and loved quote, just an empty spot. I looked around, no plaque on the ground, and no staff to ask. So I headed to the office. The staff member checked the records and said that my mother's plaque had been completed yesterday. She smiled and added, a full week faster than expected,

and then said that the new double plaque had been installed this morning. I told her about the blank space. She tilted her head and said that I must have gone to the wrong wall or looked at the wrong spot. It's easy to do, and that the plaques had been changed over this morning. The voice in my head was saying, no, no, no, I wasn't mistaken. There was no plaque. She said that she would walk over with me and show me where I had gone wrong. When I showed her the space, she paused, took out her phone and asked the workmen who install the plaques if they could return to the wall.

When they arrived, one worker checked the work roster for the day. Yes, the temporary plaque had been removed, but they didn't have a new one to attach. The staff member checked a list on her phone. Yes, the new plaque had arrived and been processed for placement. Suddenly I heard a voice that seemed to be coming from the worker's pickup truck. It seemed to be saying, here, it's so dark here. I shook my head, but the words repeated. Louder, more urgent.

It's so dark here. I looked at the bed of the back of the truck, and there was a large toolbox attached to the bed behind the cab, and the bed wasn't flat. It had wide-raised channels. The workers said they had to get back to work. The staff member said that she would see what she could find out for me, but the voice was almost shouting in my head.

Here, it's so dark here. It was as clear as if the person saying this was shouting into my ear. I said that I just had this feeling that the plaque was somewhere on the truck. I asked if we could check. The workers looked in the boxes and bags on the tray, had a look inside the cab. I asked if we could move the toolbox, and both the workers said no, almost in unison. The toolbox was, they assured me, secured in place. and all the plaques were stored with care in a box.

Why would I want the toolbox moved anyway? Even if the plaque fell out of the box, which wouldn't happen, it wouldn't accidentally slide under the toolbox. The worker who spoke stretched out the eye and slide for emphasis, like, slide. He said that I had offended him. He didn't like his work being questioned, but the voice was getting louder and more frantic.

Here, it's so dark here! There was a box holding a few of the removed temporary plaques next to the toolbox. I leaned in, picked one up, placed it in one of the channels, and it was a perfect fit. I said that I didn't know why, but I had this overwhelming feeling that my parents' plaque was under the toolbox. There was an angry no from one of the workers. He added that he would not have his work questions, that the plaques are sacred. and that they're all treated with care. But again, that voice was screaming.

Here, it is so dark here. A tear escaped my eye, and I begged, please, just humor me. I'll buy you lunch if I'm wrong. I explained that I didn't mean to offend, but my voice trailed off, as I couldn't explain it. The voice was screaming in my ear, repeating over and over that it was so dark. I put my hands to my ears and said louder than, I intended, please stop, I'm trying, I'm really trying, just stop. The workers and the staff member looked at me and then at each other.

One of the workers said, well, food is expensive here. I said it would be worth it for them to prove me wrong, added that I would buy them lunch for just trying and added another begging please. The voice in my head would not stop. One of the workers pulled a long, thin pole from a holder on the tray. Open the toolbox and took out some sort of sticky putty. He pushed it on to the end of the pole and pushed his new tool along one of the channels under the box. Nothing.

But the pole came out minus the putty. He shook his head. He added more putty, less this time, and pushed it along the second channel. Again, nothing but the putty had stayed in place. The third channel was the same. I sighed. There was only one more. channel. He pushed the pole in and it stopped short. The workers looked at each other. He pulled the

pole out, but nothing was stuck to the putty. He tried again and again nothing. He said he was sorry, but he thought the bed might rise up in that spot, that there was nothing under there and they needed to get on with their work. The voice shouted again, no, here, it's so dark, here. I asked if could try again and I would pay for their drinks as well. He rolled his eyes and then passed the pole to me. I was too short to reach over the side of the truck, so I scrambled up onto the bed and lay face down on the dirt-covered surface. I carefully watched the pole as I slowly pushed it into the fourth channel. Again, it stopped short and I could hear something move. It wasn't the bed rising beneath the toolbox. Something was there. I pulled the pole out, molded the putty with my hands, and pushed it back in.

Again, nothing came out, but there was a noise of something moving and a mark on the putty. A straight line. Unindent from the edge of a plaque? The workers raised their eyebrows. One took the pull from me, and with the care of a surgeon, slid it back into the channel, pressed it down, and slowly pulled it back. It took him three tries, and we held our breath as far as far as. finally a plaque began to appear.

The voice in my head said, Yes. I couldn't stop smiling. It was all I could do not to hug the workers, but they looked concerned. For the first time in over half an hour, the voice in my head fell silent. I watched as one of the workers

carefully attached the plaque to the wall. I was given a cloth to wipe it down. As I read the quote, A tear fell from my left inner eye. Our love's journey knows no end, together forever, two souls as one blend. I turned to thank the workers, but they were gone. I stayed for a few minutes, and then I heard a voice gently tell me that it was time for me to go. My job was almost done.

Almost? What was left? I walked back to the office to organize the promised lunch for the workers and the staff member. The staff member said it wasn't necessary. and she gave me a serious look and said that on behalf of the cemetery trust, she wanted to apologize for the distress the worker's mistake had caused. Suddenly I was distressed all over again. I didn't want anyone getting into trouble. I wanted to commend the workers for their care and compassion.

Mistakes happen. It had all worked out. I felt sick. Please, no. I don't want them reprimanded. I want to thank them. Some silly woman comes along with a crazy idea and they helped her out. They need to be thanked.

She smiled and put a finger to her lips. I took it to mean that no one would ever know. I asked her where I would find the workers, called into the cafe, bought some food and drinks I thought they might like, and I delivered it to them along with my wholehearted thanks, and promised that I'd be more than happy to stand up for them if they were reprimanded. It would not, I assured them,

happened on my watch, and I would indeed be watching. I made sure they had my details, and I made them promise to contact me if anything happened. They smiled and wished me well. As I walked back to the car, the voice whispered, and now you're done. As I opened the door, I turned back to the wall, and I heard that same voice. It was soft and kind, and I knew it wasn't speaking to me. It's a good view from here, isn't it? I realized it was the long-forgotten voice of my father.

I looked down the hill from that wall, and it was indeed a very good view. Hey, Raven, I found your podcast a few months ago and have been binge listening ever since. I wanted to share a story about how I may have been targeted at a store for possible kidnapping. I went to one of those big grocery stores to pick up some groceries. As I was walking through the aisles, I noticed a man standing at the end of one. I didn't think much of it at first and moved on to the next aisle,

which happened to be the woman's product section. That's when I noticed the same man entering the aisle as well. I thought maybe he's just grabbing something for his girlfriend or wife. I brushed it off and continued shopping, but as I turned into another aisle, I saw him again, standing at the other end. That's when I started to feel uneasy. He had no items in his hands,

and it was odd that he kept appearing wherever I went. My stomach dropped, and I told myself to stay calm. I decided to go to another aisle across the store where I needed to grab something anyway. As I reached for an item, I suddenly felt like someone was behind me. I slightly turned my head and saw someone standing pretty close. I don't know what gave me the courage, but I quickly stepped forward and then swung my basket around to create distance and shouted,

What do you want, man? He looked stunned, as if he hadn't expected me to say anything. Without a word, he shook his head and quickly left. There was no one else in the aisle, and I didn't see anyone nearby. I started to reach to my hip just in case he came back, and that's when I realized I had left my pocket knife in the car. Earlier that day I had gone to the courthouse and had taken it out, leaving it in the car door. Feeling even more on edge, I went to the canned goods aisle and thought, if he comes back, I can use a can as a weapon. At that point, anything within reach was a potential weapon.

I grabbed my remaining items and headed toward the milk aisle, and that's when I noticed him again, this time with a large group of people, some in their early 20s and, I grabbed his early 20s and others older. They were speaking to each other, but still, no one had any items. It was strange. I should have told someone at the store, but all I wanted to do was leave. I went through the self-checkout and saw the group exiting the store, and I decided to wait for about 10 minutes, browsing the plant section to see if I could spot which direction they went.

But I never did. Eventually, I took the chance and just hurried to my car. Looking back, I regret not alerting someone. I don't know why I didn't. I took a long winding route home, even turning down random streets, to make sure that no one was following me. A trip that should have taken 10 minutes ended up taking 30. When I finally got home, I told my husband,

and he agreed that I should have reported it. It's an experience that I will never forget, and a reminder to always stay aware of my surroundings. It's never too early to plan your summer story in Europe with WestJet, from rolling countryside to cobblestone streets. Begin your next chapter. Book your seat at westjet.com or call your travel agent. WestJet, where your story takes off. Everything started in 1998 when my family moved into a new house.

At first, nothing seemed unusual. But over time, that house, specifically the basement, changed my life. in a way that I still don't fully understand. For the first few years, I shared a room with my brother, but around the 8th and 9th grade, he wanted his own space, so I was moved to the basement. That is when everything changed. Before then, I was a straight-A student,

excelling in AP classes like biology, CP and calculus. But once I moved downstairs, my grades dropped to B's and C's. My personality shifted. I was no longer outgoing, and it felt like something was draining me. Even before moving in, the basement had a strange history. When we first toured the house in 98, we were told that someone was buried beneath the concrete in a small hidden nook in the wall. The room was originally used for storing firewood,

and while spiderwebs covered the entire area, for some reason, that tiny nook, the exact place for the box, body was supposedly buried, never collected webs. On the other side of the basement, there was also a hole in the wall that led under the back porch, another dark and unsettling space. Once I started living in the basement, I had recurring dreams almost every week. Three in particular stood out. The first dream was about an alternate dimension.

In this dream, I was at school, but no one would acknowledge. me. I felt as if I didn't exist. I wandered into the restroom where, strangely, a bathtub full of water sat in the middle of the room. When I looked into the water, I saw another world, or an alternate dimension. The moment I touched the water, I was pulled into it, and suddenly I was loved and respected by everyone. I was wanted, but just as quickly, I was yanked back to reality where I was once again ignored. No matter how hard I tried, I could never return to that other world. The second dream was the shadow in the basement.

This one was the worst. In the dream, I would wake up still in my basement. Everything was exactly as it was in real life, but something was different. A heavy, hateful presence filled the air. And I could feel something watching me. My eyes were drawn to the hole in the wall, and there I saw it, a featureless black figure with glowing red eyes. It had no expression, yet I knew it was smiling at me.

I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. The sheer malice radiating from it made me feel like it wanted me dead, like it wanted my soul. I would always wake up still feeling its presence lingering in the room. The third dream was the farm in the plane attack, and in this dream my mother and I were walking down a dirt road past a field, with a large red barn ahead of us, with our house behind us. The wind would blow gently, swaying the wheat,

and then suddenly an old warplane, possibly from World War I, appeared in the sky. As it flew over the house, it started attacking us. My mother screamed at me to run to the barn. As I ran, I turned back and saw bullets hitting all around her. I made it inside just as everything went black and then I would wake up. The strangest part is that that woman would look exactly like my real mother. As time passed, I felt more and more disconnected from who I used to be. I never made it to picture day after moving into that house.

Not once. I also started experiencing frequent nosebleeds. sometimes so severe that they took five to ten paper towels to stop the bleeding, and then there were the near-death experiences, two of them, while living in that house. Even while awake, I sensed that something there was watching me. At times I would see dark figures moving in the corner of my eye, always near the hole in the wall. The unsettling feeling of being watched never left me. But here's the thing, the moment I moved out, everything stopped. No more nosebleeds or terrifying dreams, no more shadow figures, it just all ended.

Or is it still hiding deep inside of me, still clinging and still feeding off my pain and suffering? I guess I'll never know in this life. And yet, I never really fully regained who I was before. My luck has been terrible ever since. While the experiences themselves disappeared, it feels like a part of me was lost in that house, as if something still lingers, just not in the way it once did. I've never tried any sort of cleansing or spiritual work to break whatever connection that house might still have to me, but after all these years, I wonder, did that basement take something from me that I will never get back?

This was back in 2023, on Halloween night, and I had just finished trick-or-treating. Just to be clear, I have a weird neighbor, let's call him Dave. Dave was 6'5-and-just invisible. You would just never see him. So me and my friends would just avoid looking at his house. It always gave me a weird feeling walking around that area. But anyway, I got back at 11.30 from trick-or-treating. like I said, and fell asleep pretty quickly.

I woke up probably two hours later in a cold sweat, and then I started hearing tapping from my window, and then a scraping noise. I checked my window and saw Dave with a pocket knife trying to get into my window. As soon as he saw me, he ran away. Not wanting to wake my parents, I tried to fall back asleep, but I did, just not easily.

The next morning over breakfast, I told my mom. She said that she didn't want to tell me because I'm easily spooked, but now that I mention it, she told me that when we first left to go trick-or-treating, she saw Dave standing outside looking at me. A couple weeks later, we saw a police report in the newspaper that told us Dave had passed away from old age,

that when his daughter, who lived out of state, was looking through his house, she found hundreds of pictures of me, my friends, and men. any other kids that we didn't even know. We moved away a month after that. That was clearly the scariest moment of my life. Scary stories for dark dreams. This would have been back in 2014 when I was going to college, and I had a roommate who worked at a local antique shop

close to the university that I went to. During one of my long breaks between classes, I decided to visit my roommate at her job, the antique shop, and hang out for a little bit. The antique shop was really quaint and neat. The shop was housed inside of an old Victorian home that I believe was said to have been built in 1899 or so. I had been there quite a few times before,

but this day when I had come to just chill before my next college class, I was only really there to talk to my friend. After a little bit, some customers came in and were needing help, I decided to head upstairs in the attic part of the house slash shop and peruse around when my friend helped the customers. I realized I had never been up there before. It wasn't dark or creepy, well lit with lots of window light and good electrical lights. There turned out to be some really cool things up there as well that caught my attention,

and I began browsing like a regular shopper. After about five to ten minutes, I started feeling like someone was just over my shoulder, constantly staring at me. I kept looking over my shoulder every 30 seconds or so, because I could feel a presence. I was the only person up there, and I knew it because it was a small space that you could clearly tell if someone else was up there too. Plus, I didn't hear any footsteps from potential other shoppers. I remember not feeling particularly scared, but rather unsettled and kind of annoyed. I felt like I was being watched way too close. Finally, after I could hear the customers my friend was helping had left,

I eagerly went back downstairs to talk to her. I immediately asked her if the owners had security cam. cameras installed upstairs because I had this eerie feeling that I was being watched too closely. She laughed nervously and then said, Oh, you must have met Edna. She's a ghost that lives upstairs. This was her home before she died and the family sold it. Apparently she likes this house too much and doesn't want to leave it. The owner says that she's seen her and she's just an elderly woman and wears a black, lacy, Victorian dress. She's harmless. But she likes to set off the grandfather clock sometimes that hasn't worked in years,

and sometimes she'll playfully spook people, especially those of us that work here. Her relatives even pop in sometimes to visit their Aunt Edna. My eyes were white at this point. Her relatives come to visit her? It was the funniest, weirdest, ghost encounter I'd ever heard of, and to be honest,

It was my first paranormal experience that I can recall. And ever since this experience, it was like a portal opened up. And now I experienced the strange things all the time. So, more stories to come. I just want to start out by saying that I do not drink, smoke, or take any sort of judgment-altering substances, and this is all real talk. A few summers ago, I was watching TikTok in my kitchen, and I came across the cursed game. you should never play side of TikTok. I skimmed through the playlist out of boredom and curiosity,

and hopes I would find something that would peak my interest. After enough scrolling, I came across a cursed game called Ashes to Ashes. Automatically, for some bizarre reason, I was hooked. The video stated that you need a wish, a room with no windows, candles, and of course your soul, if memory serves me correctly. Well, my friend Hannah and I got curious one late summer night, and I called her on my iPhone to see if she wanted to take part in the challenge virtually. Hannah willingly agreed, and I asked her what her wish was. I wrote down her wish on an index card and turned off all the lights in my townhouse.

I then made my way up to my bathroom that has no windows, closed, and locked the door. I also turned off the lights, of course. I turn on my lighter and I start to burn the index card on the middle tray that we got for safety. The energy shifted dramatically. Hannah and I felt overwhelmingly neutral energy that felt flat for a lack of better words. Then two brief seconds later, after I started getting ready to put the ashes in the empty bathtub, Hannah and I both heard a faint whisper, like, ghostly yet terrified voice that said, it's coming.

I paused for a brief moment and took a breath. Then I started sprinkling the ashes for the index card in a clockwise rotation in a circle around me as I repeated, Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, ashes to ashes, ashes to dust. As soon as I was done chanting quietly, Hannah heard some growling and chirping sporadically. I then took a deep breath and lit my white candle. Hannah and I called out to the demonic mystical entity who was called the Dust Bunny in this case. It's supposedly an evil entity who collects souls in exchange for one wish, or either plays a game with you and grants your wish, without taking your soul if you win.

Hannah and I called out to this Dust Bunny. The smoke alarm automatically went off, and keep in mind, the candle wasn't anywhere near close enough to the smoke alarm to set it off. I automatically jumped and my heart skipped a beat. Whoa, holy crap, I exclaimed. I then jumped up and turned on the light as quickly as I could and tried to run the water in the tub to send the ashes down the drain. Hannah paused and then said sheepishly,

Um, you weren't supposed to do that. That's against the rules. My thoughts in my head then began to spin rapidly like a tornado. After a brief moment of silence, I heard heavy creeping footsteps walking up my staircase. My jaw hit the floor and my heart started to pound relentlessly once I looked up and saw who it was. Two feet away from where I was standing, in the dark, shadowed part into the nearest corner to where I was standing, I kid you not, I swear it was a six-foot-tall demonic-looking bunny, who appeared to be missing an eye and had long sharp teeth.

He started to breathe heavily and then spoke. Do you want to play? I then stuttered and replied, No, thank you, I'm good. The Dust Bunny slowly nods his head and says, I can't do anything with such a kind soul as yours. I can't grant your wish because your soul is no good to me. I swallow and then reply okay.

The Dust Bunny then cuts me off in an abrupt yet covert manner and replies firmly and militantly as he directly looked into my eyes. I'm going to let you off easily this time and this time only. Whatever you do, young lady, do not ever play this game again, because next time you'll be history. Understood? I then say, Um, yes, sir, have a good night, and thanks for your kindness.

He then vanished into thin air, and the energy in the house went back to normal as it typically was. I turned on all the lights in my townhouse, and it was almost 3 a.m. by the time Hannah and I wrapped up the game. I totally underestimated the power of the supernatural that night. Just a heads up, this story does have some violence and adult themes and may not be suitable for people who are sensitive to that kind of content. Hello, everyone. My name is Dakota B. I will not use anybody's last name in the story for privacy. reasons. This is a true and disturbing story that happened to my boyfriend Cody and I in our home

state of Texas back in 1969. Just a warning, this story does have some violence in it, so if you want to skip it, please do so. My boyfriend Cody and I lived in a small town in Texas. We met in elementary school, and we were always good friends. When we were in high school, we started to date. I loved Cody. He was a good-natured boyfriend with short brown hair and brown eyes on a nice muscular build. I and other girls as well thought Cody was one good-looking young guy. He would do anything to protect me, and I would do anything for him as well. Cody often wore black cowboy hats and white or black short-sleeved shirts that showed off his muscles. He also wore blue jeans and brown cowboy boots on his feet.

Cody had a brave, loyal German shepherd dog named Apollo that he loved. Cody also loved Western movies. He loved John Wayne, Gary Cooper, Jimmy Stewart, and Clint Eastwood Cowboy films. Cody also loved to smoke Marlboro cigarettes. He was a light smoker, never heavy. I liked to call him the Marlboro Man after the cowboy cigarette commercials that used to run on the TV in the 1950s to 1970. I mainly nicknamed Cody Cowboy, and that's the name that I will use for the remainder of the story to avoid confusion. Cowboy also had his own red in color, 1955 Chevy Bel Air Automobile, that he had bought himself working at the hardware store with his father.

Cowboy often took me out on dates with this car. He was good at fixing things and always had his car running well. He also loved guns and owned a big, Colt Revolver Handgun. gun. He was a good shot, and often shot at Cairns in his spacious backyard. Cowboy and I also loved riding our horses together along the riding trail. As for me, I had long brown hair and blue eyes, with a large and curvy figure. I wore cowboy hats sometimes in nice country dresses, blue jeans, or shorts. I was lucky in life and came for money.

My father was a banker in Texas. through my father, my boyfriend and I have met the Texas governor at the time, John Connolly, who just a few years before 1963, was shot in President Kennedy's motorcade when the president was assassinated. Cowboy and I were still 18, but would graduate high school in a few months, and we planned to go to Texas University together. Richard Nixon had just become president of the United States on January 20th, 1969, with Spiro Agnew as his vice president. As Texas' own Lyndon Johnson left the White House,

the Vietnam War was in full swing at this time. There were flower children everywhere and protesters to the war. The civil rights movement in the 1950s and 60s finally ended segregation of black people in the South. But there were still some deep racist feelings. The clan still existed, and some people still held racist feelings towards minorities. My boyfriend, Cowboy, and I did not have any of these feelings.

We were both confident that America was slowly turning around for the better. Everything was going well in school and in life with Cowboy, and I one day was coming out of the food market when I felt a sharp knife on my back. I looked behind me in surprised shock to see one of the meanest-looking young females I have ever seen in my life. The girl was in her 20s, had an acne-scarred face, and the few teeth that she did have were rotting in yellow. She also had long-braided blonde hair on a very malnourished, rail-thin body wearing a raggedy pink dress. She looked like a person who never had it easy in life. She was very frightening looking.

This little piggy went to market, and this little piggy's not coming home. She hissed, angrily at me. Do not talk, little piggy, or you're dead. See that white truck over there? You're going to walk to it. I started to sweat. I had no choice but to do what this deadly young girl had said. As soon as I got into the rusty old truck,

I sat right beside a girl behind the wheel, who looked exactly like the one pointing the knife at me. Hello, Dakota. My name is Bessie. That over there holding the knife on you is my identical twin sister Tessie. You, young Missy, are going to be our guest for a spell in our home until your parents come up with the ransom money to release you.

Yes, we know your family's rich, that's how we know your name and all that. Of course, when we get the ransom, we're going to kill you and leave you in the trunk for the police and your parents to find when we leave town. She laughed as her sister Tessie joined her. In the back of my mind, I was always worried that somebody might try to kidnap me for ransom, with the family wealth, and this was unfortunately that moment. I knew I was in a bad spot with these psychopathic, identical twins. The truck then started to move and pick up speed.

A few minutes, I looked behind me and saw a sight that I could not believe. It was my boyfriend, cowboy, and his dog, Apollo, following me in their car. Apparently they saw what happened. We did live in a small town in Texas. after all. Cowboy was smart enough that he didn't follow too closely to alert the deadly sisters that they were being tailed. The rickety truck went up long, winding turns and hills, and finally rested on a large but unkempt house that smelled of cat urine. The sisters pushed me down into their basement, and forcibly put me down in a chair. Bessie then faced me smiling evilly.

You know, Dakota, I have always hated the rich. You seem to always look down on the poor, she said. Not all rich people look down on poor people like that, I replied to her, as I started to say something else and was then slapped by Bessie in the face. I may have been rich, but I was a tough cookie, and could defend myself as I got up from my chair and bawled my right fist and punched Bessie hard in the face, making her whole body rock back as she howled in pain.

Blood spurred from Bessie's nose like a blown fist. fire hydrant and onto her raggedy pink dress. As soon as I did this, Tessie yanked me back down into the chair again. Instead of hitting me back, Bessie said, you should not have done that, Missy. I must admit, you do have more to you than you thought, but now you've made me very angry. She then grabbed a needle and injected me with something that made me very drowsy. I was conscious enough to know that Tessie had now bound me with rope to the the chair and I couldn't move an inch.

Just that punch, Missy, we're not going to feed you for the full day. See how much you like that. Bessie screamed angrily at me as she spit in my face. I felt like socking her again, but it was impossible. I was bound to the chair and was losing consciousness fast. I did remember that my boyfriend and his dog were following me, for a time at least. I hoped that they didn't lose the tail or I was as good as dead. Bessie then relished in telling me that she was happy that Medgar Evers and the three civil rights workers were murdered,

along with politicians, Martin Luther King, and Bobby Kennedy, because they were for civil rights for minorities, which these two apparently hated. Bessie and Tessie then went on to tell me that they themselves were planning to kill other people who were for civil rights. Famous people. I looked at the two evil sisters sadly knowing that there were. was still so much hate in the world. Bessie then started to laugh as the basement window crashed. I then saw Apollo come right into the basement.

It seemed like the cavalry had arrived to save me. I then saw my boyfriend cowboy jump down into the basement as well. Tessie charged my boyfriend with the big knife that she was holding, hissing angrily. Cowboy shot her in the shoulder, knocking her down. Bessie then grabbed her double-barrel shotgun and pointed it right at Calvary. but his dog Apollo attacked her, knocking her down. Cowboy then freed me as he then called the police. While he was calling the cops, Apollo held Bessie down.

Watch out, Dakota. Cowboy had said to me an alarm. I turned my back to just see Tessie, who was shot in the shoulder, slowly getting herself off the floor, as she still held her deadly knife in her hand. She swung the knife at me, as I held her right arm, which also held the knife. I then bawled up my fist tight and socked her in the face with all my might, as her knife went flying and she fell unconscious to the floor.

Don't worry, I can manage, I replied. I then saw Cowboy turn toward his dog. As he got his dog off Bessie and got her off the floor, Bessie turned to me angrily. You're nothing but a dirty female pig and that's all you'll ever be, she said with venom in her voice. I looked at my boyfriend. Hey, cowboy, straighten her up for me. As my boyfriend did, I said to Bessie, when you and your sister wake up at an hour,

tell the prison hospital nurses that Dakota sent you there. As I clenched my fist and knocked Bessie out cold, her body crashing hard onto the basement floor. Wow, remind me never to make you angry, huh? He said with a smile, as we both laughed a little, looking at both the unconscious sisters on the floor. In not too long, the police came and took Bessie and Tessie away. It was found out that the deadly sisters were actually wanted in a string of robberies of stores,

besides kidnapping me. I knew they would be in jail for a very long time. Cowboy, Apollo, and myself, then got into Cowboys' car and took off towards home. My boyfriend and I graduated high school in college and then eventually we got married. The crazy coincidence about Bessie and Tessie is, that Charles Manson and his lady followers had the same kind of thinking that same year in 1969.

But that was in California. We were in Texas. Their case made much more headlines than ours. Understandably so, because that was a mass slaughter of the actress Sharon Tate and her friends. This was not. But I'm glad that both evil groups were eventually stopped. Looking back at this,

maybe it wasn't so surprising because these kinds of crazy and hateful feelings were pretty rampant in the 1960s. With the Vietnam War raging and people rioting, this all happened a long time ago in Texas in 1969, but I will forever be grateful for Cowboy and Apollo for saving my life. So this happened last summer, and I still can't wrap my head around it. I'm a night owl, always up late gaming or scrolling online, and my apartment's this old creaky spot with too many mirrors, left over from the last tenant, I guess. There's one in my bedroom, full length leaning against the wall because I never bothered hanging it. It's got this chipped silver frame, kind of grimy, but I never paid it much mind. One night, at like 2 a.m., I'm half asleep.

on my bed, phone in my hand, when I catch something out of the corner of my eye. The mirror. My reflection's there, sure, but it's off. I'm lying down, right? But the me and the mirror is sitting up, staring straight at me. Not moving, just locked on, eyes wide like it's trying to bore holes into my skull. I blink, sit up quick, and it matches me, back to normal. Just me, sweaty and freaked out.

I chalk it up to exhaustion, maybe a weird shadow, and then I crash out. Next night, same deal. I'm up late, rooms dark except for my phone glow, and I glance at the mirror. This time my reflection's standing. Not me, I'm still slumped in bed, but... It's up, right at the edge of the mirror hands pressed against the glass from the inside. I freeze. Its mouth moves slow like it's saying something, but there's no sound.

I grab my phone, shine the light, and it's gone. Just me again looking dumb with the flashlight. I should have ditched the mirror, but I'm stubborn. The third night, I'm ready. Phone recording, aimed at it. Nothing happens for hours. and then around 3 a.m., the video catches it. My reflection steps out of the mirror.

Not all the way, just one leg slow like it's testing the floor. My real self is dead asleep in the footage, snoring and oblivious. The thing looks at me, at the sleeping me, and then turns to the phone. Its face twists, not like it's mad, but it's just wrong. Too many teeth, eyes too big like a mask slipping. It leans in close to the camera and then it whispers something and the video cuts out. When I watched it back, the audio was just static, but I swear I heard my own voice in there saying, you're not supposed to see this.

I tore that mirror down, smashed it in the dumpster out back. Shards were everywhere, but one piece, a big, jagged piece kept showing up. On my kitchen counter, under my pillow, in my car. always with a smudge that looked like a fingerprint, but not my fingerprint. I actually moved out last month. A new place, no mirrors, but then last week I was walking past a shop window downtown. And there it was. My reflection standing still while I kept moving, watching me go.

I don't look at glass anymore because I don't trust what's looking back. Hey there, friends. I hope that you enjoyed this collection of Skis. Gary's 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 supports 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, as the Raven Dreams. Or 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-molyness-moyance-moyant

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