As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 201 - Creepy Neighbor Stories & Other Strange & Scary Stories

Episode Date: November 14, 2025

Today, on the 201st episode of the As The Raven Dreams podcast, we have 8 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 Creepy Neighbor Stories & Other True Strange And Scary Stories. 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! I upload episodes every 3 days, so there are 2 days between new uploads. The podcast consists of new scary story collections, Glitch in the matrix collections, and also what I call the "Dark Dreams" collections (which are older stories, remastered and layered with rain sounds). 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 Thank you to all of the authors that have stories in todays episode... Sofa King, Heather, Healthy_Act5110, WholeChipmunk7096, YankeesFan, Katelynn, CatzAndCoffee As Well As Any Author That Has Requested Anonymity. TimeStamps… Ad breaks after Story 1 & Story 3 1 ➤ 1:45 2 ➤ 17:42 3 ➤ 30:26 4 ➤ 43:27 5 ➤ 51:31 6 ➤ 58:45 7 ➤ 1:12:29 8 ➤ 1:15:59 ----- 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. None of my audio is AI Generated, I am a real person reading real stories into a real microphone. Note: The podcast nor the host endorses any advertisements played during the podcast, ads are not chosen by ATRD or Raven Adams, they are chosen automatically by the advertisement systems by the platforms that host the podcast. I do not endorse, support, or promote any opinions or statements made in any adverts played during the show. #ScaryStories #UnexplainedMysteries #CreepyNeighbors Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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What day is it even anymore? Friday. This is a Friday. I hope you're doing well on this Friday. I'm doing pretty good, I think, so far. No issues to report. So, yeah. Anyways, hope you're doing well, and I hope that you continue to do well.

And I hope you have a great weekend. Any plans this weekend? I have no plans, I don't think. That might be. correct. Um, I get that wrong all the time thinking I have no plans. And then I randomly have plans. Might go to the local little zoo or walking trail, though. Let's see how the weather holds up. I am in Minnesota, so we'll see. Anyway, um, today we have some strange and scary so stories that are kind of a mix of strange, scary. Not all strange, not all scary. Some

more strange, someone more scary kind of thing. And also some creeping neighbor stories. Creeping neighbor stories are a classic topic of scary story channels and podcasts. And these are no exception. Definitely worth listening to. Hopefully you enjoy them. Hopefully I see you again here soon. Oh, you know what?

If you have a story you want to send in, just go to as the ravendreams.com. Click the button to do so. There's a big button there. You can also email it to me at as the ravendreams at gmail.com. I do need more stories all the time. All the time, I need more stories, so consider sending it my way. Anyway, that's all. Hope you have a great weekend.

Hope you have a great week ahead. Hope I see you in here soon. But until then, my friends, much love, then enjoy. I never thought that wearing a sports jersey would lead to what I am about to share. But here we are. We moved to this suburban Boston neighborhood a decade ago at this point. My wife got a promotion. at work, but it involved us moving to a different state. After weighing everything out,

we agreed that it was a good idea in the long run, so she accepted the position, and we moved. The area was great. The school district was perfect for our kids, too, eight and ten at the time. Moving was a little rough as we were in between homes, waiting for our house to close, but we made it. The house was great, and in the first few weeks, we settled in, learned the local routines, and even met some of our neighbors, including a man that all called Dave.

Dave seemed friendly enough at first. He introduced himself, talked about how he lived alone, and he and his wife were divorced, and their daughter lives with his ex-wife, and he gets her on the weekends. We chatted about where we were from, what brought us to Boston, and even about house stuff, offering to help out with anything we needed. It seemed like your typical suburban guy.

Then, one Saturday, I was wearing my Yankees jersey while cleaning out my car. Dave stopped by and started talking to me, but I noticed his whole demeanor changed when he pointed out my jersey. He asked me if I was a Yankees fan, and I confirmed, explaining that I grew up in New York and had been a fan since childhood. It was something that my dad and I had bought it over. That's when he started ranting about several baseball moments that I barely remembered.

He clearly was not a fan of Aaron Judge, calling him overrated and overpaid. To be honest, I've always been just a casual fan at best. So I just nodded along trying to be polite. I watched it on TV, went to a few games with my dad, but really that was about it. So, his reaction and becoming so animated about it, I knew it was part of his personality. To each their own, though, like what you like. But from there, that's when things started getting weird.

At first, it was just me getting the cold shoulder or dirty looks. I would see him outside when I grabbed the mail or took out the same. the trash bins and tried waving, but he would just ignore me. It was a stretch, but I figured maybe he didn't see me. Maybe he had his mind on something else and didn't realize I was waving at him. I just let it go. But then he started complaining. While my kids were outside playing in the yard, I would hear yelling from a grown man. I would pop outside and saw Dave yelling at the kids that they were being too loud. But yet, I didn't even hear the kids whatsoever.

I had been in the kitchen right by a window pointing out into the yard that they were in, and all I could hear was him yelling. He was clearly much louder than the kids. He even got mad at them when they were kicking around a ball, claimed that it was going to hit his car. His car was in his driveway on the other side of his house. If my 10-year-old would have been able to kick a ball up that high and that far, I would have put him in football or something. But there was no way that they would have hit his car.

One time he even called the police because my son and his friend kept suspiciously riding their bikes past his house. They were both on the sidewalk, riding with traffic and going around the blocks, so yeah, they rode past his house. and everyone else is on the block several times. Thankfully, the cops didn't take it seriously, agreeing that they hadn't done anything wrong. I know that really seemed to piss Dave off with how the cops left with both of us smiling and waving.

Now, these were all on different days, so the first few times I assumed he was just in a bad mood. But it just continued. And I started to believe that he was just a bitter, person or just didn't like kids. Calling the cops, though, even though nothing came of it, it really bothered me. It scared my son, and it was embarrassing having to explain to his friend's parent why the cops were at our house.

In the end, I just told the kids to try to avoid him as much as possible. Then, we had a new strange thing happening that didn't involve the kids. Our trash bin started mysteriously full. filling up between collection days. We'd put out a normal amount on Thursday night, but by Friday morning, it would be overflowing with bags that were clearly not ours. We even started getting warnings from the HOA about excessive trash. We knew not to overfill it.

The trash people would often not take trash if the lid wouldn't close anyway. But even with the family of four, we recycled as much as we could, so our trashed. bin was never overflowing. When we first moved in, we had some excess trash, but I even made sure to separate organic garbage from everything else so we could throw the food waste away first. If the bin was full, I just kept the extra in the garage and put them in the bin after it was emptied. I know that I may do things odd, but it helps, especially with kids. But we also haven't had to do that since we moved in. The bottom line is, our bins were never full, so someone was clearly putting their bags in our bins.

The easiest solution for me was to just keep our bins in the garage until right before the trucks came by. Yes, we had some cameras, but we didn't have one that showed the end of our driveway. We never really had a need for one. I just started working from home for part of the day on Friday so I could take the bins to the curb. The extra bags seemed to stop then. Then, our mailbox was starting to be tampered with. Sometimes it was bent. One time it was completely knocked over.

Twice I had important mail go missing. My parents set my daughter a birthday card with money in it, and it was not in my box. Even though informed delivery showed it was being delivered. I tried asking the post office about it, and they couldn't tell me anything. helpful other than to install a camera. So I did what I could. I put in a better post, even cemented the bottom into the ground,

and got a new hefty mailbox that couldn't easily be moved or pulled off. Then, I finally decided to install a camera that pointed to our driveway and mailbox, since mail theft is a little more of a big deal than using someone else's trash can. That is when I finally caught something. I came home one afternoon and collected the mail, and there were a few brochures for places in New York. I don't mean like some kind of advertisement either. I mean, these are brochures that you would find in a hotel in that state that you can take. How did they end up in my mailbox?

So I went and checked the cameras. To my surprise, Dave walked up to my mailbox, shook it a few times, and then seemed to put his weight on it, to push it to the side. It didn't budge. I did a good job. Then he opened the box, pulled something from his pocket, shoved it in the box, and slammed the door closed. So Dave tried to knock over our box and put the brochures in the box, but...

Why? It didn't make any sense. Why had he done any of these things? and now that I see that he may have been behind the mailbox issues, was he also the one that was filling our trash bins too? So while he didn't really cause any damage to the mailbox, I didn't report it. I just discussed it with my wife and started taking notes on his actions.

I guess Dave didn't realize I had the new cameras installed and I finally caught him in the act. I turned on alerts to tell me when a person was, was detected, and when I woke up one morning I had a notification from the camera. It was Dave, walking down our driveway. He stopped by my car, looked around and then pulled something out of his pocket, and started rubbing it against my car. He was there doing that for a good 15 minutes.

Then he stepped back, looked at my car once more, and walked away. I went out and looked at my car and was shocked to see a huge spot on my heart. hood that looked like it had been sanded down, in the shape of the letter B. What the hell did the B even mean? Since I clearly had this on camera at this point, I reported it to the cops. They came over, I made a report and showed them the video evidence. I had no idea why he would do this and still didn't understand the B, so my wife and I both agreed to press charges. After they finished at our place, I walked from the porch as the cops went to his home,

and they talked calmly for a moment. Then Dave quickly became agitated. He started yelling something, and the only thing I heard was, that's BS. He was slowly walking away from his porch and then sped up, pointing at our place, and started to storm toward us. The cops stopped him before he even got out of his yard, cuffed him and got him into the their car. Clearly, he knew what just happened, and that he was caught on camera. And I didn't feel bad. I didn't know what the hell I had done to warrant this kind of aggression from him. He was fine when we

first moved in, but it slowly escalated. But because this wasn't a severe crime, he was back home the same day, later that night. There was an older woman that drove and got out of the car with him and they both went inside. I just reminded my wife and kids to avoid him at all costs and told the kids that if he was outside when they were, to not initiate, don't talk to him and just go back inside. I hated it. I hated that my kids could only play outside when the neighbor wasn't around. It wasn't fair to them, but I didn't trust him anymore.

The breaking point finally came about a week later. My kids had just gone to bed and my wife and I were still up and watching a movie in the living room. I got another camera notification on my phone and when I pulled it up, I saw a man walking around our driveway again. My wife and I started watching, trying to wait for a clear picture of their face, assuming that it was Dave again. We got more than just a good view of his face. He walked toward the window where the camera was.

It was an indoor camera pointing out. out the window. He looked at the camera, giving us a clear view of his face and his hoodie before taping a piece of paper to the window. The hoodie he was wearing was a dark color with a big red bee on the center. I recognized it. It was the Boston Red Sox logo. That's when it finally clicked for me. Was this really all about me being a Yankees fan? Is that what the bee was for on my car? There's no way someone would go this far over some stupid non-existent team rivalry, right? Clearly, I was irritated by this point, so I wanted to confront him.

I stormed outside, empty-handed, and yelled at him. I made him jump, but as I began yelling at him, he quickly got defensive. I asked him if this was really about the Yankees thing and he actually confirmed it. He said that I had some nerve coming to Boston and wearing Yankees crap, saying that my kids were corrupting the neighborhood with their New York attitudes, and that we all needed to leave. I told him that he was insane and needed to get a life, and then he ran at me with a baseball bat.

I'll remind you that I didn't have anything on me, so I ran back to the house. I got inside just in time as he started to swing the bat at anything he could. He smashed the pillar on our porch, the steps. He went back and started smashing my car. Thankfully, my wife had a bad feeling from the start and she called the cops, and then shifted the camera so that it was pointing at part of the window that wasn't covered. So it caught him running at me with the bat. Not that it mattered too much,

because our ring camera caught most of him trying to destroy our porch. The cops showed up quickly and managed to get him, on the ground and once again cuffed. We pressed charges for all the damage, the threats to me, and then filed a restraining order so that he could not be on any part of our property. I was pissed. Like I said, I was a casual fan. I didn't dislike the Red Sox either, so I may have even watched a game with him if it ever came up.

But instead, he chose violence over a shirt. He could have put my kids in danger. because of his problems with me. I wanted us to just leave for my kid's safety, but this all happened in less than a year of us being in our new home, and we really didn't know what to do. Apparently he took the restraining order and more recent charges seriously, because we didn't see him after that.

I saw him angrily watching us from a window once, but that was it. Then, one day, I saw that same older woman, and another man show up there. The three of them then carried several boxes and bags from his home, put them in the man's truck, and left. I think he moved. I didn't see him after that, but I did see that other couple several times,

bringing out more boxes and furniture. I later learned from another neighbor, one that was actually quite kind, that the people I saw were his sister and brother-in-law, and they told her that he was moving in. with them. Dave had a bad temper before us, but we were just enough to send him off the deep end, I guess. All I know is that I'm glad he's gone because if a jersey was enough to set him off,

then there's something deeper going on, and he needs help. But at least now my kids could continue playing outside without worrying that a maniac with a bat might chase them down too. Let me start this off by saying that I'm an incredibly skeptical person. Like party pooper, buzzkill, first one to walk straight into an inky black darkness-filled alley without giving it a second thought.

I remember talking to my girlfriend about ghosts, and when I told her that I didn't believe in them, she was like, here no fun. She would ask me how I could just walk into pitch blackness like I did, and how she couldn't help but feel like there's always something lurking in the shadows waiting to get her. I guess I figured they can't get you if you believe they aren't there. I remember telling her. I'm a firm believer in seeing is believing, but also believing is seeing.

That is to say that if you believe in ghosts, you'll find them in the shapeless swirls that your imagination forms out of the canvas of darkness. I live my life with these principles. I am an atheist who doesn't believe in the various forms of reported ghost stories, alternate universes, cryptids, alien visitation, psychic powers, let alone glitches in reality, unless you have some pretty convincing evidence to back it up. I like to believe I'm a pretty level-headed guy who has a healthier amount of skepticism than most. All you need to do is click on any app and watch Flat Earthers, reptilian, shape, shift, Truthers and other comment sections of poorly CG'd paranormal videos, and you'll quickly discover that the state of human gullibility is at an all-time high.

Call me a cynic, but I'm not just going to take your word for it. And as for the countless videos of supposed paranormal activity, there are a near-equal amount of them that have been exposed as fakes. Why would you fake a video if you've got truth on your side? Being alive as long as I have, I've come to realize that there are far many more people trying to deceive you than there are genuinely trying to enlighten you. That being said, I would like to share an experience I had in late 2024 that I've yet to explain, and that has left me dumbfounded. I was out door-dashing in early October in a suburb of northern Virginia. It was my only form of income, and whenever I got the chance,

to apply at a more stable place, I did. I happened to be picking up an order at a popular fried chicken chain, when, in that same plaza, a place that was untouched wilderness only a few months before, I now saw a help-wanted sign at a newly opened pizzeria. I've worked in the pizza business before, and I thought it would be an easy transition with better hours and, most of all, stability.

So I walked in and applied. Three days later I was officially hired and began training with their head chef, Anna, we'll call her. Anna was a five-foot-nothing Hispanic lady with big brown curls in her hair, and she usually wore it up in a bushy bun. She wore a black shirt with the restaurant logo and black leggings, standard uniform for this establishment, and she was on the heavier side, but don't get me wrong. I have no issue with whatever a person feels happy being when it comes to proportions. She's an amazing trainer with a passion for food, something we have in common. Three weeks in, and I have a five-day work week with shifts that range from all-dayers to open her till lunch or lunch till close.

The restaurant opens at 11 a.m., but workers are scheduled to arrive at 10.30 in order to fire up the brick oven and prep for the day. One morning I wake up, shower, and get my uniform on. I quietly creep back into my bedroom so as to not wake up my girlfriend and gently peck a kiss on her cheat and whisper, See you tonight, love you, as has become routine whenever I leave. She stirs softly and half a sleep mumbles again. I figured she was talking in her sleep or about a dream, but I didn't pay it too much mind, thinking she meant you're leaving again.

I left, admittedly, a little early. On this particular morning, the sky was a bright gray, and a light mist was raining down from the sky. When I arrived at the pizzeria parking lot, it was 10.20 a.m. I sat in my car waiting for it to get closer to clock-in time, since our boss told us to not clock in earlier than your scheduled time. Plus, I had no way of getting into the building until Anna arrived. So, I wait there in my car scrolling through YouTube videos, looking for something to watch to kill the time. Occasionally, glancing up through a rain-dotted windshield to see if anyone has arrived yet.

At about 10.25, I look up for my phone, and there at the front entrance of the restaurant, I see Anna slowly pacing up the sidewalk, making her way to the door. I think, there she is, and break my line of sight and begin gathering the things I'll need for my workday. Phone, hat, headphones, book, and charger, and then I exit the car. I fumble with my key fob to lock the car door and make my way up to the restaurant, trying my best to cover myself from the elements while stuffing some items into my pockets. As I look ahead, I'm suddenly struck with the realization that Anna's gone. At first I'm thinking, wow, she made it in fast. I get to the glass door and tug on the handle.

Locked. No big deal. The door locks behind you when you enter and don't use the Allen wrench to set it to unlock. I peer through the glass door, hands cupping away the gray glare to get a better look inside. I don't see Anna. Maybe she walked straight to the back to unload her belongings in the employee lockers. I spend the next few minutes knocking on the glass, first with a bald fist and then with the tips of my car key hoping to get her attention.

When that failed, I figured that she'll unlock the door eventually. She was expecting me along with a few other employees after all. Instead of braving the mist, I decided to wait it out in my car. No use getting soaked before a full day of work, right? I turn around and glancing once more into the dark building, before making my way back to the car. But before I could reach my car, I see a silver van pull into the lot off of the main road. Cold, microscopic icicles form on the back of my neck when I recognize Anna waving at me from behind the steering wheel.

But how? I could have sworn that my mind rummages as I stand midway through the driving lane of the parking lot. I stay frozen there, focused on the image of Anne. whose face is now distorted by the gray glare as she parked her vehicle. When she approaches, she asks me if everything is all right, and that I look like I've seen a ghost. I could hardly summon a nod and timidly follow her to the entrance of the restaurant. Mind agape, but my mouth holding it together. I remained silent about the incident until she probes further.

My total shift in behavior the last few weeks, a dead giveaway. I finally confessed to her in the moment. main kitchen at the back of the restaurant, trying to form what I saw into words so she wouldn't think I was a lunatic. I told her, I saw you, before I saw you. She asks me to elaborate, and I go through the series of events just as I have gone with you now. It was you, again. I saw you, black leggings, work t-shirt, hair, and a bun. I even remember watching you fiddle with the lock. The strangest part was that if I did mistake her for someone else, there is no way they vanished

that fast, and to wear. The space beside the pizzeria was still under renovation, and the other stores wouldn't open for another hour. Not to mention, that figure was walking away from the stores that were operational. There was simply no place for her to have gone. At some point she quivers as though to shake off the corner. creeps before telling me something that gets me anxious. According to her, there have been incidents reported in all the buildings along this plaza

that could best be described as paranormal. She recounted an instance where she had arrived at work one morning and claims that she heard voices conversing in the bathroom. When she went to investigate, she found it empty, but the motion-activated light had been triggered before she opened the door. She told me of one late night where all the other employees had already gone home, and she heard the distinct sound of the lockers rattling, as though someone was using them,

to which her search had produced nothing. She spoke of an incident that the other lead chef relayed to her about having seen, quote, something, surge by the doorway at the rear of the building after hours. She said that she would be the last one to leave at night, and the first one to arrive the next morning, only to find things shuffled around, in places they weren't at the night before. A few days after the restaurant opened, she said that she arrived at work to find the glass

door had been shattered into pieces. The boss told her someone had broken in the night before, but Anna found it strange that the glass bits were on the floor of the outside of the restaurant, as if someone had broke out, not in. A customer who frequents the establishment told us that, at the Lens store beside the pizzeria where she works, things have happened that she wouldn't go into detail about, because she felt that the more attention you paid,

the more intense the encounters became. For the rest of my shift, this heaviness loomed over me. Every unexplained noise or accidental breaking of a glass by a server was suspect. As my shift ended and just as I was starting to feel normalcy return, I stopped by the fried chicken joint in the same plaza, the same one where I was picking up an order from when I inquired about the pizzeria job for a warm meal. While waiting in line, I could hear the employees there arguing about how someone must have done it, whatever it was, and the reprimanded denying responsibility.

After ordering, I couldn't help but ask the cashier. who was not part of that argument happening behind him, if he noticed any strange occurrences at their place of work. As though I was suddenly part of this strange unspoken club, the cashier replied, You too, huh? The young employee being reprimanded apparently quit and left the building, mouthing his frustrations about being blamed for everything that goes wrong around here.

I left. Back home, I'm greeted by my girlfriend like always, with a hug and a kiss. She follows me into the bedroom where I peel off my uniform and gather a clean set of clothes preparing to shower away the stench of the day. How was your day?

She asked. Have I got a story for you? I tell her. But before I could begin, she asked me what I forgot to grab this morning. Forgot? I asked. You came in the room and kissed me goodbye twice. I end my account there.

because it felt like it wrapped up the last of the odd occurrences neatly. But for some clarity, yes, my girlfriend swears up and down that I kissed her goodbye twice that morning. I've never been able to explain it. I have no proof other than my own experiences. I'm still a pretty skeptical person, but now I don't chalk up everyone's strange experiences as merely a runaway imagination. I finally got the time to write out this story and I wanted to share it with you. This happened back in 2015, and I still have no answers.

I moved into a small house for rent in Indiana. It was my first place on my own, so I was pretty proud of it. My last place was with a roommate, which ended fine, but since she got engaged and was planning on moving in with her fiancé, we weren't going to be renewing our lease. I was happy for her, and it gave me some time to save up for my own place, too, so it worked out. My landlord was an older couple who was moving out of state.

The house used to be their summer home, but they decided they didn't want to keep moving around anymore, putting their son in charge of maintenance. They were all good people, and I really think I lucked out on them in the house because they took pretty good care of the place. I even met some of the neighbors pretty quickly. There was a couple who had a newborn to my left,

an older couple across from me, and an older lady that lived to my right. Her name was Janet, and the story is about her. Janet was pleasant enough when I first met her. She introduced herself quickly, explained that she lived alone, other than her two cats,

and that her son came over to check on her weekly and take her to run any errands she had as she didn't drive. I thought it was cute that she immediately gave me a rundown on her every day. Just in case I saw a middle-aged man come over and get suspicious. She was a sweet lady, and I did enjoy talking to her when we were both outside. Several months into me living there, I even gave her my phone number in case she needed anything.

I had met her son and he explained that she does have a bit of Alzheimer's, so I felt better about her having a quick person to reach out to in case of any emergencies. I had helped her with replacing a light bulb, grabbed some extra bread at the store, and even brought her some treats for her cats before. So it was becoming a pretty normal occurrence for me to see Janet. What I was not expecting was to start getting these weird and eventually cryptic calls from her. her. It started out seemingly as a mistake. She called. I had her number saved in my phone and after saying hello,

I heard Janet's familiar voice say, hi. Oh, um, I meant to call my sister Martha. I'm sorry. And then she'd hang up. No big deal. She was older. It was a simple mistake. About an hour or so later, she would call

back and it would be the same thing. Is this Martha? I would reply, no, Janet, it's me, Lynn, your neighbor. Oh, I'm sorry, dear, I was trying to call Martha. She called me four times that day. All the same thing. I have a lot of patience for things like that.

Having a grandma that was close to her age that I adored, so it was like having a second grandma that I was watching over in a way. I ended up seeing her the next day when she was outside sweeping off her patio, so I wanted to ask her about the calls and make sure that she was okay. She laughed as she shook her head and told me that she just kept mixing up our numbers and would try to be careful to not bother me. I told her it wasn't a bother at all, but then later that evening, the same thing happened. She called me twice, asking for Martha.

The next day, I asked her about Martha, wondering if our numbers were close, maybe a number off or maybe even transposed. She explained that that was probably. probably the case and that she probably needed to rewrite the number, claiming that she most likely just couldn't read her own handwriting anymore. I even offered to program the numbers in her phone, but she declined, explaining how she had a landline and an old flip phone. She said she didn't even want the cell phone, but her son made her carry it around on her

person in case anything happened to her, like a fall, and she couldn't get to her landline. She said that she didn't like going through the phone because it was hard to to read, so she just had these large cards on her wall with everyone's number on them. I left it alone and just decided that if I have to deal with a few wrong calls from Janet, then so be it, no problem. And the calls continued, as if on a schedule. She would try calling for Martha, I would tell her it was the wrong number, but then after this went on for a few nights, I decided to amuse myself.

When she asked for Martha, I responded, confirming I was Martha. Janet remained quiet for a moment, and I was worried that maybe she knew I was lying. Surely she would know her own sister's voice, and I guess I was kind of being mean, right? But it wasn't intentional. I was just about to hang up when Janet finally spoke, and I regretted ever saying that I was Martha. Janet first went on to talk about how thankful she was that she finally got a hold of me. She first launched into how she was doing, how she went to the doctor because her knee had been acting up,

and she didn't feel like getting knee surgery was worth it at her age. She told me how she had to take one of her cats to the vet, because he was sneezing a lot, but he was doing fine now. She even mentioned one of the neighbors, one I wasn't quite familiar with, but said that she saw him at the grocery store and that he was looking good, but was buying way too many canned vegetables.

I thought it was funny and cute, listening to her as I made dinner, thinking I hope I was the same whenever I got older. I was thinking maybe she just needed someone to talk to about everything going on at home that wasn't her son. but all the light and funny business came to a halt when her tone shifted. She said, Martha, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me. I responded with, okay, and she said, do you ever think about that day?

You know the one I'm talking about. Back when we were 12, behind the old Miller property. I stayed quiet, not sure how to respond. I thought maybe this could have been her testing me, seeing if I really was Martha. I thought the jig was up. I started speaking, but she stopped me to continue on. She mentioned how she kept having dreams about her.

Ingrid keeps talking to me in these dreams. She says she forgives us, but it's starting to scare me, Martha. she mentioned how they never found her and that it was their fault she said the sounds of ingrid falling way down there and the crush it makes her wake up at night and it makes her sick janet's voice dropped really low and i had to pick up my phone to hear her better it sounded like she was starting to cry she was only eight martha we should have done something and now it's all coming back what if she's still down there Then, she mentioned that she thought about telling the police to give her family closure, but she didn't know if it was worth it because her parents were long gone. She sat quietly for a moment asking what I thought, and I didn't know how to respond. Did Janet just confess to something dark? Something she did with Martha?

I didn't know how to respond to it, and I felt awful that I may have taken advantage of her in such a vulnerable time, so I just hung up. My heart was now racing, and I remember trying to finish dinner and kept looking at my phone, waiting to see if she would call back. She never did. About an hour or so, I finally called my friend and told her what I just heard. We both started brainstorming for a bit, thinking that it sounded like I had just heard a confession about something she may have done.

her and her sister. My friend wanted to try and look for something online, but we had no idea where to start. I didn't know Janet's birthday. I didn't even know her exact age, so I couldn't possibly narrow down a year. All we knew was that there was possibly a missing kid named Ingrid. We came up empty-handed and my friend pushed me to try and get more information, but I didn't feel right doing that. This was very serious if it was true, but manipulating an older woman who may have Alzheimer's was just as wrong to me.

Besides, I didn't even know how I would go about bringing it up, so I never did. She called me a few more times after that night, but every time I denied being Martha so she would hang up. A few days later, I saw Janet's son helping her back inside. I wanted to check on them, as I hadn't seen her. Janet leave her house. Her son, James, looked exhausted, but said she was doing all right, but had been having trouble sleeping lately. He said that she was getting more and more confused about time and people, and even mentioned how she was talking to his wife like she was her sister, Martha. This caught my attention, so I asked him about Martha. He said that Martha was her twin sister,

but that she died from cancer almost 20 years ago. He asked if she was being a bother to me, and he just looked so concerned. I told him no and that I was even willing to help anywhere that I could. I gave him my number in case he needed me to check in on her too, and he thanked me, saying that I've become quite the loyal neighbor. That was it for our conversation. He confirmed that she was a little more irritable than normal and having trouble sleeping. Was this related to her call with me?

Was it all true? And with the way James looked and how much he seemed relieved with my help, I didn't feel right bringing it up either. And that's where it all stopped. I got a few more calls, but she never said anything, and I never said that I was Martha again. She would apologize for calling, and then it would end. James never said anything to me, and I never brought it up.

I tried with what information I had to. find anything that might confirm if what she said was real. I guessed Janet was in her 70s, maybe early 80s. I tried looking for girls named Ingrid that went missing in Indiana around the time that she would have been 12, based on my map. I even tried looking for girls that may have been found, like remains. But so far, I've come up empty-handed. I unfortunately don't know if it even happens in Indiana. and if so, where for that matter?

I would even think that having a first name at age would have helped, but no dice. Now I'm just left wondering if what I heard was true. She had Alzheimer's. James eventually told me how she had early-stage dementia too, so was it possible it was just something she made up? Or something on her mind? Ten years later, I still have no answers. James ended up moving Janet into a care facility.

He let me know after she had an accident, and I felt bad that it was one of the days I wasn't home, but what chilled me is what he told me, and I don't think he realized it. He said that when he went to get her, she had called him, and she seemed delirious. She kept talking to Martha, saying that I'm sorry, Ingrid, and he didn't know who Ingrid was.

So, there's no way she was just doing that to mess with me. But now I wonder if it was all a true story. Did this sweet little Janet do something to another kid when she was 12? I don't think that I'll ever find out. Nor do I want to know. Hey, everybody, I hope you're doing well, and I hope you're having a great summer. This is just a strange story, and I have no idea how to classify it. Other than a scary house story, maybe.

Some family visited over the 4th of July weekend. We had a barbecue, caught up with some friends, and even got their help tackling some minor projects around the house. And then before we knew it, it was time for everyone to go home. But the next day, when we were putting all of our patriotic decor away, we found something unexpected. Let me give you some background about our house. house. It's a two-story with an unfinished basement. No attic above us, just an a-frame ceiling

with a crawl space that kind of encircles the upstairs. But the basement houses our laundry room, a treadmill, some weights, old furniture we no longer use, a deep freezer and the hot water heater and furnace. The basement is also our refuge during the frequent tornado warnings and severe thunderstorms that unfortunately hit us every year. We also have a room off to the side that goes completely beneath the house. And this area is where all of our Fourth of July, Easter, Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthday, and Halloween decor is stored until it's needed. But with my current health issues, I'm not going down there.

Too much to trip over. But on this particular day, I had to make an exception. After I placed everything back in its box, my mom and stepdad headed downstairs to put it away. I thought nothing of it as I finished my last cup of coffee for the day. That was, until I heard my mom shout, What the hell? I heard them talking about a new room, so I walked down there to find out what was going on. As it turned out, they accidentally knocked over another box in that little room,

and when it hit the wall, or what they thought was a wall, it caved in, revealing a room that we had no idea existed. My mom started freaking out and wondering why no one had told us about this. My stepdad just told her to calm down and to just check everything out. By then, I was right behind her. She kept telling me to go back upstairs that this was dangerous, but I just had to know what was in that room. room. My stepdad tried to turn on the light, but it only cut on to a horrible screaming sound. Luckily, my mom had a flashlight with her. We slowly made our way inside, and no, there were no dead bodies. No signs that anyone was there against their will and no chains hanging from the ceiling,

other than the ones for that screwed up light, and a ceiling fan, which sounded even worse when we tried to turn it on. I held on to my white cane for dear life as I moved around the surprisingly big space. Again, nothing remarkable at first, just a small daybed, folding chair, a ceramic utility sink, which still worked but just needed to be cleaned, a microwave, and an old-fashioned toaster oven combo that took up the entire shelf above the sink. Two tables were on each side of the bed, one with an alarm clock and the air. other with a large old-fashioned TV, with a VCR on the floor.

My mom found a coffee pot beneath the sink, along with a half-eaten bag of chips. My dad found a large stash of movies from the 90s. Everything from Titanic to While You're Sleeping, It Takes 2, when Harry met Sally, and then came the gross stuff. Beneath the normal movies, he found a stack of, well, dirty matter. magazines, adult films, and some used contraceptives. For whatever reason, my mom flipped back the covers on the bed to find an old Atlanta Braves t-shirt, a pair of plain black shorts, and a letter which was barely visible.

It read, Hello to whoever finds this place. I'm sorry you're finding this room and I'm sorry for the mess. The light has never worked, and the fan has just started. to break down. Miss Kay let me stay here against her sister's wishes. I'm just a man who effed up my life, but I'm trying to get back on my feet. I've saved enough money for a real apartment.

Miss Kay is very happy. Her sister still can't look me in the eye, and I guess I understand. I did a lot of bad things to people. If you're reading this, it means I'm long gone. I'm free at last. I left it all here for a reason. Ms. Kay said she would seal the room up, but if you're standing here at my old bed,

it means that she didn't. And now it's your mess to clean up. I don't mean to be disrespectful to you, but you have to clean this up. It's much easier than you think to get in your house. That outlets in the carport that doesn't work, it's not an outlet. And that weird circular hole to the left of your bushes

has nothing to do with the chimney. Those are both major access points to this room. But whenever I had a girl over, I just used the door leading out to the backyard. So please, seal all this up for your safety. And that chain on your door leading to the upstairs? Very breakable. Miss Kay's sister found that out the hard way when she told me I was a felon who needed to be put down, and she found me in bed beside her.

She never talked ugly to me again. Anyway, hope you enjoy the house. Don't forget what I said. Oh, and don't let your son turn into a convict like me. Not only did she read it, she took a picture of it and sent us all the copy. And this, y'all, was the exact note. Without another word, my stepdad scooped me up, Kane and all, and we tore out of that room. Not just because of the note, but because my mom found a very soft spot on the

floor and when she looked down the whole area around it was black and our only thought was black mold when we got upstairs she told me that that area behind the bed was flooded slightly and let me tell you that day we did all kinds of research nobody called k or kathy or katherine lived in our house so who were these people we had no identification on the man who wrote the note either, but we have since called an electrician to cut off all the power to that room, and someone to, for real, seal everything off. But another puzzling thing is that there's no breaker for that room anywhere in this house. We may relocate the sink, but everything else threw it out.

We also checked out the quote outlet and the quote circle, and Miss Kay, I guess, did seal those parts up. Our basement has flooded during storms, and I'm actually surprised that that little area wasn't in worse shape. I keep trying to figure out how he survived summers without AC and winters without a heater. I'm still staying out of the basement, and this is reason number 1,000 as to why my cats are not allowed down there. Thank you, Raven, for collecting and sharing people's stories on the strange and scary. Thank you. I love your channel and your wonderful narration.

I also love the cover pictures of each episode and the sound effects. Thank you. A great job on the presentation piece in each of your playlist. Your outros are great too, some funny, some sad. And I really like how you end each one. You are loved, you are valid, you're important, you're the best you that you can be, so on. And I mean it every single time. Anyway, I would like to share two of my strange stories.

One is a definite UFO sighting, but the other one can fall under the supernatural. A possible glitch, or maybe UFOs. Share what you want, but I only ask that my name be kept anonymous in both stories so as to protect the privacy of the children in each. Done. Thank you, Raven, and take care. In Story 1, it's my 28th birthday, in a mid-November evening. me and my friend B and her five-year-old daughter, T, walked to a small convenience store to get some junk food. We went inside, bought our junk, and then proceeded to leave the store.

We got as far as crossing the road when T. told her mom, B, that she forgot her mitts inside. Mum went back into the store while T and I waited across the road. We live in northern Canada, and even though the fall was in full swing in the western provinces, our winter had already started. There was snow on the ground and it was a clear, cool night with lots of stars visible. While waiting for her mom, me and T simultaneously looked up at the sky. It wasn't the northern lights that caught our attention, but a UFO hovering to the right of us. We both stood there frozen in place, me with my hand on T's shoulder and us standing close together.

There was no noise coming from the UFO and no wind. And everything around us was silent, and I mean silent. There were no sounds of snowmobiles being driven in the distance, no barking dogs, no one walking close by, nothing. It was just me and tea standing there on the side of the road, both of us looking up and both of us very quiet as well. We watched the object in the sky move closer, but neither of us communicated any fear. The white lights from the craft became very bright as it got closer. To describe how bright it was, I can only say that it looked like the lights on a Christmas tree star that was almost touching your face, and you'd have to squint a little so as to not overwhelm your senses.

That kind of bright. What we saw was beautiful. and it was amazing. The UFO stayed hovering in the same spot for a few seconds longer, with us facing it and just standing very still, until it suddenly moved fast and headed straight up into the sky. Me and T continued to watch the craft move higher and higher until it left our planet's orbits altogether,

and it got smaller amongst the stars. We were still looking up when B came out of the store with the Mint. B asked us what we were looking at, and we told her what we saw. Her reaction was, you could have been taken. And by the sound of B's voice, she was pretty shaken up by our story. We began the ten-minute trek back home, me and T, still with no fear, but walking and talking excitedly about what each of us had witnessed. We noted how brilliant and beautiful the lights were, how fast the craft moved. how there was no noise from the UFO and how amazing it felt to see something like that.

And even though I moved away from that town a few years later, whenever me and T get together, we still talk about that night. Both of us become excited when rehashing our stories, and both of us are still amazed by the whole experience that happened over 20 years ago. There have been UFO sightings in that town before and after our night, but for me and for T, we never saw anything like that again. T's mom still feels that we could have been in danger and is grateful that we weren't taken that night, but she now also wishes that she saw the UFO too.

I'm grateful that we weren't in danger of being abducted, but I'm also grateful for witnessing something so amazing. It's something that has opened my eyes to all the mysteries in the world, and to the mysteries that are not of this world. Keep looking up, friends, and be safe. And story two. As mentioned in the previous story, I live in northern Canada, where the towns are small and isolated and the winters are long.

Snowmobiles in these isolated towns are really the only reliable transportation for the cold temperatures of minus 30 Celsius and lower. And it's also a great path, time to offset the months and months of short days and long dark snowy nights. One evening, just a little after 6 p.m., me and my sister and her toddler went for a ride on a snowmobile. This particular drive happened sometime in March or April, when it didn't feel as cold on the skin. The three of us were sitting on one machine, and we were driving slowly, given that we had a child with us.

As we were driving to the edge of the airstrip, about 15 minutes away from town, the whole sky just lit up, and then it slowly went dark again. It seemed like someone just flicked on a light switch with white light flooding the town for those few seconds before someone turned it off again. We were away from town, away from a phone, as landlines were our only option for communication, and we were the only people on that road. So we turned around and drove home a little faster. To this day, we really can't explain what happened.

We've never heard of any meteor showers happening that night, and it's very rare for lightning storms to occur that time of year. And we didn't hear any loud bangs that would indicate that something big had exploded. We don't know why the nighttime skies fluttered in white light for a few seconds. Was it a UFO or a glitch? Or was it something supernatural telling us to turn around and go home? Or was it just a natural event? I'll let the listeners decide.

And thank you, Raven. This was something that happened back when I was a kid, so it is an older story, but anyone with kids will find it creepy, I'm sure. Back in the early 2000s, block parties were very common in the early. area that I grew up in. We had a few of them during the spring and summer, especially for some holidays such as the Fourth of July, Memorial Day, and even Labor Day, and those were the big ones. I remember I didn't have school on those days. We usually had the normal people there, everyone on the block with kids showed up, as well as

this older couple that was always nice to me and some other people that I didn't quite recognize. Either way, it was fun because there were a lot of kids around and there was never a dull moment. So, this event took place for Labor Day. School was about to start in a week or two, I think, so it was going to be the one last hurrah for us kids. A few people dragged out their grills, and we met in the cul-de-sac that our house was on. So not quite a block party for this one, but we still had a lot of people. over. It was nothing too crazy. The adults grilled. Some people brought finger foods, sides, and desserts, and we had some water activities set up in the yard like a slip and slide

in this big sprinkler. It was a lot of fun. Several neighbor kids were around, but most of them were closer to my younger siblings age rather than mine, but I still enjoyed hanging out with them. As more and more people arrived, I saw that one of our neighbors, Chris, I think his name was, showed up. Thinking about his appearance now, I would say that he was probably mid-40s, looked close to my dad's age. I had seen him around before. Usually he kept to himself, though. I would see him in his yard, mowing, sitting on his porch, or walking around his yard taking pictures, are just sitting out front drinking as us kids were out playing nearby.

Most of us, being the polite kids we were, would wave at him like we did to anyone else that we saw, and he would wave back. No big deal. He just didn't really participate in any of these parties, so it was a surprise to see him. He brought a case of beer and a 12-pack of soda, and my mom thanked him for bringing it. I assume that she must have invited him or talked to him, which was a surprise to me. He got to talking to the adults, cracked jokes with my dad, and when we ate, he made a big deal about my mom's potato salad, so I could tell that she was happy with him.

But this is where it started getting weird. After everyone had eaten and was now just sitting around talking, the kids went back to playing in the water. While we played, I noticed that Chris had his camera out and was taking photos. At first, I didn't think too hard about it. He was always taking pictures at his home, so I figured that he was a photographer or something. But after some time, I noticed that the camera was pointed directly at us kids for most of the time. And, after snapping some photos or looking at the camera, he would look around at the other.

adults. For some reason, this started to feel odd to me. I remember stopping and watching him, and then the other kids, and wondering why I was feeling this way all the sudden. I hadn't been in a situation prior where I felt uncomfortable, or really even unsafe, so it was a foreign feeling to me. I no longer wanted to be in my bathing suit, and I tried convincing the others to join me so he could go play something else, but they all wanted to continue playing in the water.

So I went alone, marching up to the house and watching as Chris sat there staring at the kids and smiling still. He made eye contact with me for a split second as I walked by, and then he winked at me, which added to the weird feeling I was getting, so I ran into the house. I got dressed and sat at the kitchen table, snacking on something, and trying to figure out what to do at that point, when Chris and my mom walked inside. She showed him where our bathroom was, kissed me on the head, and then went back outside. He was in there for some time as I waited for him to leave the bathroom. He walked out with his camera around his neck and smiled at me.

He grabbed some of the little snacks that were on the kitchen table too, and something came over me at that moment to say something. I asked him why he was taking pictures. and he said that he likes to take them to have memories of these moments. I asked if he was going to make copies for everyone, and he shrugged and said that if anyone wanted them, he would. So he was taking pictures of people he didn't know very well for memories, and then had no intention of sharing them with the people there?

So then I asked him quite straightforwardly, why are you taking so many pictures of kids in their bathing suits? That seemed to get his attention. I wanted him to know that I saw him. I saw what he was taking pictures of. That time he got defensive, and said he was allowed to take pictures because he was an adult. I don't know where this bravery came from,

but I told him he was being weird. I told him that taking pictures of kids and, not for their parents was very weird. I remember him looking around the corner like he was checking the front door, and then he walked closer to me where I was sitting. He got uncomfortably close to my face and said that no one would believe me anyways. He then called me a spoiled brat and said that I was just jealous that I wasn't his type, and again teased that it was his camera and his life,

so he could do anything he wanted. because he wasn't hurting anybody. I wanted to cry. He was way too close, and what he said only confirmed to me that he was the type of guy we were always told to avoid. Yet, here he was, at our party, at our neighborhood, around all the kids,

and the adults didn't seem to see it themselves. He finally backed up, chuckling a bit, and then went back outside. But here's the part that he's, probably didn't realize. My family has always been super close, and my parents have always taught us that we could come to them with anything. They taught us that there were no secrets, especially between kids and adults, that if anyone ever made us feel uncomfortable, whether it was a neighbor, stranger, or family member, that we should always tell them, no questions asked. And they didn't

just say that. They showed it, too. One of my cousins said something to me once that he didn't mean in a malicious way, but could have been taken really wrong. I told my parents about it, and they immediately addressed it. The fact that they took care of it so quickly really showed the trust, which, as a parent myself now, was really important to see. So, after I calmed down some and wiped my eyes, I went back outside to find them.

My mom spotted me, and she could immediately take them. tell that something was wrong. She asked if I wanted to talk privately, and I said yes, scanning the area trying to find Chris, but I didn't see him anywhere. She took me into the bedroom, and I told her everything. I explained how I saw the camera and where he was pointing it. I told her about what he said to me in the kitchen and how it made me feel. I could tell by the shift in her demeanor that I was right to feel this way, too.

She hugged me and thanked me for telling her, and we both went back outside. We both were looking around for him, but we still couldn't find him. Maybe he left after I confronted him. My mom told my dad, and that's where things really started to heat up. I saw him looking around for, presumably, Chris. He was asking others if they saw him and finally someone confirmed that he had left. My dad then went to Chris's house, which was directly across the street and one house down. We could see it from the cul-de-sac we were in.

My dad knocked on the door, and then he yelled something that we couldn't make out, but Chris never answered. He came back without any contact with Chris, and the other neighbors that could tell something was wrong at this point were asking what was going on. That's when my dad told them. I felt a little embarrassed that this was all happening because of me, but to my surprise, most of the adults also looked appall. They were telling the kids they couldn't play in the water anymore, and there was a line in our bathroom as we all changed our clothes. The next day, my dad was right back over at Chris's place, banging on the door. I heard my parents talking about it, and he said that he was going back over there, so I went out front to watch. My dad was once again banging on the front door, but Chris never came out.

When he got back home, they called the police and told them what had happened. The police then sat next to me in the living room and asked me specifically what I had witnessed, and what Chris said to me, and I explained everything to them again. Afterward, my parents asked me to go play with my siblings and keep them occupied. I couldn't see anything from our bedroom window, so I didn't know what happened after that. I only saw Chris one other time after that, and it was only after I got off the bus as he was just checking his mail.

When our eyes met, he quickly went inside without as much as a glance back at me. I don't know what was said to him or what was done, but he clearly didn't want anything to do with me anymore. Over time, we forgot about Chris as we stopped seeing him around. I heard my parents bring him up a few times around others, but that was it. I didn't really ask about him either. Eventually, I did see a moving truck there, and I started seeing a middle-aged couple over there, but I never recalled seeing Chris move out.

At least he was gone, and now the only mystery for me was what happened to him. Once I got a little older, something came up and reminded me about him, and I asked my parents about it, one evening. They've always treated us kids as if we were equals. There were definitely things we weren't allowed to do or say, definitely boundaries, but like I said, when it comes to talks and being open, they've always been that with us. So they told me what happened to Chris. Unfortunately, there wasn't really much of a conclusion. The police went and talked to him, and surprisingly, he answered for them.

They explained that people were complaining about him taking pictures of kids without permission, and his explanation was that he was a professional photographer, and was planning on giving the photographs to everyone. The cops asked to see them, however, he refused and unfortunately had the right to. The officers then told my parents that he did have that right, and since he was invited to the party and it was in a public space, he wasn't trespassing, and taking photos, isn't necessarily illegal.

They told my parents that if we or anyone else caught him taking photos through our windows, on our property, or even if we had any proof of the type of photos he was taking, we could report it and go from there. But of course, after that party, he never showed up again. But that didn't really stop the neighborhood from shunning him. With everyone else at the party, my parents were quick to explain what had happened. happened. Anyone with kids wouldn't allow them around him or his house. All the adults practically ignored him, and my parents told me how one of our neighbors, a sweet older man named

Ed, went off on Chris when he ran into him at the post office, which I thought was pretty funny. The police said that they would keep an eye on the situation, and they would let us know if anything else changed, but otherwise, it was a dead end. We must have made him uncomfortable enough to leave, which I guess is fair with how uncomfortable he made me and the others. My only fear is that he may still be out there somewhere, taking pictures that he shouldn't be, and someone else may not know it. When I was in my early 20s, me and my girlfriend were visiting her mom at her double wide, out in the middle of nowhere in Algrass, Michigan.

The year was 2008. Her house was at the end of a long-ass-dirt road called Manor Road, which then curved to the right and became green drive. This road was really close to the Saginaw Bay. There were houses all on the right side of the road with old canals that had quite a bit of water at one point in the past. Anyway, me, my girl, my niece, and her boyfriend went to Taos to Bar-hop. The night felt negative.

None of us were getting along. We were arguing and fighting all the way back to her moms in Algris. My grandma had died recently, and I was fairly upset about that as well. When we got back to her moms, everybody went in the house. I stayed in the car, which was parked in the road. I had my head on the steering wheel, and I was crying. I was just in a bad place. It was twilight and had just begun sprinkling rain.

I looked up, and on my beautiful sun, Wyatt's life, there was a tall, blacker than the twilight around its shadow figure roughly seven foot tall, with little white pin dots for eyes, long arms and long fingers, freaking staring a hole right through me from the goddamn roof of the double-wide. The image is burned, into my memory, and will be until the day that I die. But not the end of story.

Yeah, it gets freaking crazy. So when I look up, we stare at each other for, I could honestly not say how long. Could have been more than five to ten seconds. I see the porch light come on from the other side of this thing, and then the shadow of the front door swings past this thing. and it disappeared when the door shadow swung on back. I freaking bolt out of the car, up the ramp to the front door, and burst through the door. I see everybody drunkenly brawling and arguing with each other.

I yelled through, excited, maniacly labored breathing. There's a freaking shadow! And then it happened. Whatever the hell was on the roof slammed down on the spot that I saw it standing, so damn hard that the whole double-eyed shook. It was insane. Everyone stopped what they were doing and froze. They all looked at me and I said,

yeah, that's what I was going to tell you. Something is on the roof. Everyone remembers that night like it was yesterday, and I'll never, ever forget it. It's one of those things that's changed how I looked at the world. This actually happened. Believe me, don't believe me, it makes no difference. My ex's mom has since passed, and I'm 44 years old now.

The trailer isn't there anymore, but the memory is. This is my first post here. I live in Southern Ohio, Appalachian Valley area, and this happened this year, 2025. I was at work as a cashier at a truck stop. We have tons of people coming in and out all the time. And from my register, I can see both doors of entrance to the building. And part of my job is to take mental note of who comes in and when they leave. And how long they've been there, etc.

Two guys come in, one is a regular and the other is a random trucker. These were the only two customers in the store until they checked out. Well, they both checked out. And the second guy was getting his fuel. and when I turned back around to give him his ticket, there was what I thought was a very dark-skinned black man standing in line behind him. I took the man up to my register and he bought a fountain drink and tried to hand me a stack of powerball tickets to play.

I told him that, unfortunately, the machine was broken, and he stepped forward, seemingly to get taller than he was. He then growled and barked in my face. He jumped at me like a jack in the box, and his body had a recoil that didn't match his skin and bone build. He stared me in the eye for a good ten seconds before running out the door. I'm not sure that he was running, but he left too quickly to be walking, and the light started to flicker when he left.

I was shocked. I couldn't understand why it terrified me so much until I looked back onto his face in my memory and out the window, that he was staring through as he walked away. No, I did not want to know where he went. The only identifiable parts of his face were his yellow eyes with tiny black pupils and his stark white teeth. His tongue was black,

and his breath smelled like death, like genuinely the smell of something dead, if you know, you know. And that's when I realized he, He never came into the store. He only left. Does anyone else have a similar experience? 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 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 site of things get you early access. 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,

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the podcast alive, to be honest with you. 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.