As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 202 - Chilling Paranormal Stories & Other Listener Submitted Stories

Episode Date: November 23, 2025

Today, on the 202nd episode of the As The Raven Dreams podcast, we have 22 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 Chilling Paranormal Stories & Other Listener Submitted 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... DurgeXMuffin, Rena Dillman, Hanna, Cj C, Jazzie, Thom, Quinton, Valerie MNA, Scott As Well As Any Author That Has Requested Anonymity. TimeStamps… Ad breaks after Story 1 & Story 4 1 ➤ 1:50 2 ➤ 10:00 3 ➤ 20:24 4 ➤ 35:11 5 ➤ 40:47 6 ➤ 47:02 7 ➤ 59:29 8 ➤ 1:09:18 9 ➤ 1:13:08 10 ➤ 1:14:43 11 ➤ 1:20:10 12 ➤ 1:22:16 ----- 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 #ParanormalStories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Admire. And profite. Villaray, the voice we love that we love. Hello there, my lovely friends. I hope you are having a wonderful week so far. And I hope the rest of your week is just as amazing. It's the week of Thanksgiving here in,

the U.S. And I want to do the cheesy thing and tell you all that I am beyond thankful for you. You all are amazing. All of you who've kept this podcast going, who listened to my work, whenever you don't have to, there's so many other podcasts out there, and you've chosen mine. And I want you all to know that that does not, that thought doesn't escape me. The fact that you've chosen to listen to me, to my show, means so much more to me than I think I could ever convey.

So again, thank you to each and every single one of you who listens. Even if you don't like my work, you gave it a chance. That's what matters. And I appreciate that. So again, thank you. Happy Thanksgiving. It's on Thursday. To those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving,

there's another episode before Thanksgiving, but it's going to be a dark dreams episode, so it won't have a special intro. So I wanted to just come in here and say happy Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate it or are in the U.S. If you're not in the U.S. and want to celebrate Thanksgiving anyway, you have my permission as an American to do so? I don't know.

Just whatever. Again, thank you so much. I hope you guys know that I, again, I appreciate you. Until that, my friends, till next time. Much love and enjoy the stories. Hey Raven, I believe your podcast came to me for a reason. I heard stories where people said exactly what I went through in my life, and I strongly believe in quantum immortality,

and you actually don't die until you're 100, and some people that never die in a life, or have extra lives and live to whatever the oldest age was. I actually have four stories. I don't know how you put them together, but I'll let you handle that. I'm just here to hear my story from another person's view. So let me get to it.

When I was nine or ten, I had my first sleep paralysis. I heard my grandma talking to my sister, but I couldn't move. I could just see the area around as I was lying on the floor looking the opposite way from my grandma. When I finally woke up out of it, I asked my grandma, where my son was. sister went. My grandma stopped reading her book and looked at me telling me that my sister was not here. I tell her what just happened to me,

and she says that it was the devil, that my mom used to have them all the time and to just wiggle my toes, which I never remembered to do. One day I was sitting with my grandma watching a movie, and she tells me to get up and let the man sit where I'm sitting. I look around and ask her, what man? She points to the door, but nobody is there.

I'm scared and confused. I just sit there, and about a minute later, she goes back to normal. The next day it happens again. This time, my cousin and oldest sister are there, and she tells my sister to open the door and let the man in. Then she proceeds to talk to the man and tell him to sit down. My cousin, being the dramatic person she was, and still is, starts crying saying that she did the same thing some other day, and about a minute later,

my grandma goes back to normal like nothing ever happened. On August 25th of 2001, one of my favorite singers died in a plane crash. I cried for months. I cried for her, even though 9-11, I ran out of tears, and I cried so much that the last person to pass away around me was one of my mom's best friends, so. I wasn't really good with death. Come April 25th, 2002, I lose another one of my favorite rappers, and I couldn't cry for her because I was still cried out from Alia's death. I just couldn't anymore, no matter how hard I tried.

I told my grandmother that I couldn't cry anymore, and her words were, I hope nobody cries for me like that when I die. I tell her, of course, we will. and my cousin says Don't say that. You know we will. And hopefully that doesn't happen for a long time. On May 27, 2002, it was Memorial Day about 12 p.m.

I decided to take a nap at my mom's house at the time, and we all lived in the same neighborhood. I lay on the couch facing the door that comes from the living room into the dining room, and I fall asleep. Of course, I get sleep paralysis. I heard you read a story about this little person, and it gave me chills bad. I was lying there, and the door flies open.

I can't move, so I'm just lying there looking at this tiny little thing with a top hat on, looking at me and breathing hard. He runs and jumps on me. I could feel him breathing on me. Then I hear through its breaths, go to your grandma. I wake up thinking that somebody is, is essaying me because it felt so real, but nobody was there. So I get up and go up the hill to my grandma's house,

and when I walk in, she's leaning over the couch, throwing up black stuff. I asked her if she was okay, which it was obvious she wasn't, but my 13-year-old mind wasn't thinking right, so to my surprise, she says no. I asked her, do you want me to get my mom, and she says yes. That's when I knew something was really, really wrong, with my grandma. My grandma never wanted help. She never wanted to go to the hospital. And at that time, she was mad at my mom for, I don't know what reason. I do, but it's not my business to tell.

I go tell my mom, and my mom and her girlfriend go up there, and I decide to go back. I see my mom crying, and they help my grandma up and take her to the hospital. It's the last time that I saw my grandma alive. my family clean up her house. I cleaned up the vomit. The phone rang and it was my grandma. I don't really remember the conversation. It was pretty short, but I do remember her saying, I'm going home. Hearing that, I got happy before my oldest cousin snatched the phone out of my hand, like I did something wrong, but I didn't care. I was just happy that my grandma was coming home. It didn't occur to me until years later that she said she was going home, not coming home. On May 28, 2002, my grandma was gone. Everybody was expecting me to cry the most because I was the

youngest, and at the time the closest to her. But I remembered what she said, and I didn't cry because I was all teared out, but because I just felt like that's not what she wanted. But now that I'm older, I cry more than ever about it. May I add that both my sisters had babies before my grandma passed away. They're 23 now, and she got to actually see my oldest nephew who was born in January. But my older nephew, she saw a glimpse. But it was a cold man, she said keep him in the house, so she never got to properly see him. What I'm getting to is we thought my nephew was mute.

He made no sound when he could. cried, like nothing. We had to watch him 24-7 to make sure he was okay. However, the day my grandma passed away, we heard the loudest cry from him. It was so crazy. My grandma was only 60 when she passed, so I don't know if that was related to her, but it happened. I didn't really believe in reincarnation until one of my nieces was born in 2015. She arrived. She arrived. She arrived. She arrived the same time they were having a funeral for the guy she was named after. And when she was about one or two, she would just stare at me. And when I would notice that, she would smile and be like,

Hey, Jazz. Nobody that she knew called me that. But you know who did call me that? The guy that she was named after. Her name is Mariana. So one day I'm playing with her and I ask her what her name is. She looks me dead in the eye. gets close to me and says

Marcel. I said what? My oldest niece was shocked and just like me and said, WTF. I was so shocked that I couldn't even tell her to watch her mouth. She had never heard anybody say that name and when she said it, she said it again. And she looked at me like she was waiting for me

to say something. We were all shocked and she was just laughing. But yeah, that's my first weirdest experience. I don't know what this would be put under, but thank you for reading. And I still have more to come. Hi, Raven. I may or may not have submitted a post where I briefly mentioned this listing off mostly mundane paranormal experiences, but I'm here now to share something that felt like too much of a coincidence.

It's not scary, exactly. Compelling, perhaps? When I was 21, I lost my mother. It was sudden and unexpected. I was newly married and seven months pregnant. It's safe to say that I was going through a lot that year with several ups and downs with a twist or two. My relationship with her wasn't the best, but not the worst.

A little backstory. Growing up, we lived with family as she couldn't financially support herself. She received disability checks. So, she was always home. In life, my mother suffered from serious mental health issues, schizophrenic paranoia disorder, manic depression, anxiety, and alcoholism. She did the best she could as a single mother in a time when mental health was stigmatized and misunderstood. All her life, she would periodically have meltdowns,

some alcohol and trauma-dumping induced, and psychotic episodes where she was not in her right state of mind. It's safe to say it put a huge strain on her relationships. On top of that, I was a difficult child to raise. Attention seeking, headstrong, angry, neurodivergent with ADHD, and stress-inducing. I was that kid that you couldn't take to the grocery store. Once, I refused to go to school. and she fought with me so hard,

gave up and then retreated to her room to drink. I think that was when I realized I needed to do better, because I was realizing that she was a little different. That day forward, I slowly became more mindful and self-aware. By the time I was 10 years old, I was aware enough to anticipate my mother's emotional needs. Her aging mother was burning out, and my older brother was distancing himself more and more.

She felt rejected as a parent and a daughter, so it made everything worse. It wasn't always doom and gloom. She went to Alcoholics Anonymous, and she made friends there. She was able to let it all out, and I went with her often because, well, no babysitter. Every New Year's Eve they would host a dance party, dry of course, and I would go with her. They always planned this one particular song emphasizing the importance of a support system, reaching out to your friends and loved ones when you need them the most. It was Lean on Me by Bill Withers.

This detail is important, I promise. The older I got, the more prepared I became in regards to her needs. One year it was something else to see her eyes light up so bright when I brought her a Mother's Day car. card and a gift, like she hadn't expected it. She actually gasped and kissed the card that I gave her. That's how alone she felt. I don't think my brother got her anything that year. He had a home and a family of his own at that time, but come on, man.

He could have mailed a card or something. It didn't take long for me to develop a sense of duty as her daughter to take care of her. She was a very spiritual person and believed in the paranormal. Yes, she had schizophrenia, but she had the occasional prophetic dream and they came true. She believed in God and in times when she was faring just fine, she believed there was more to this world than meets the eye. Her final years of life had other sets of challenges. She managed to get her own apartment and she was finally living on her.

her own independently. But the revolving door to and from the hospital, regular and psychiatric ones, continued. In her final weeks of her life, she seemed to finally pull herself together a little. After all, she had a grandchild that she would soon meet. Sort of. The day after she passed away, we visited her apartment. My closest friend at the time even visited out of respect. my brother even showed to my relief.

He was going to handle the funeral and I was responsible for most of her belongings. I'm not sure how my friend knew or if they were telling me just to make me feel better, but they told me how it felt like my mother's spirit was still in the apartment. That she was scared, like she didn't know what to do. She had passed in her sleep and didn't know what had happened. This was a shocking revelation, and I really wasn't sure what to think. Emotions were high that day, and we were all on the verge of tears. The energy of the small apartment was changed.

In the apartment, I unwittingly sat down in the very spot that she passed away, and something strange happened. Parts of my body that never felt pain before suddenly hurt, bad. It wasn't because of the pregnancy either, I'm sure of it. My right knee had shooting pain, the same leg that she had a serious ligament tear from a fall. My lower back was an agony, and I had serious chest pain. She was a smoker and on heart medication. I had only been sitting there for a moment before I had to get up and sit somewhere else.

And the pain was gone, just gone. There's a theory that sometimes spirits can leave behind residual energy. I think what could have happened was that when I sat down where my mother left her body, I felt an echo of her physical ailments in life. It's easy to dismiss, blame it on late pregnancy aches and pains, but everything I felt on the couch quickly went away when I sat somewhere else. If it was just me, the chest back and knee pain. would have kept on, but it didn't.

That was enough evidence for me to believe my friends, so I reached my mind out and started talking to my mother, mostly when everyone was outside of hearing distance. I told her that she was going to be okay, and that we would take care of everything, that she didn't have any of the problems that she had in life anymore, and to look forward to what was ahead of her. I think it helped, because the next day. day, when we return to the apartment, the energy of the entire place felt lighter. She was truly gone then.

Losing my mother that young hasn't been easy. She was opinionated and difficult at times, but she was still my mom and she loved me. About five years ago when I was working a graveyard shift, house sitting, I'm a DSP and work in group homes, the one I was currently in, everyone was ambulatory and independent. I was watching a Netflix documentary on people reaching out to mediums to talk to loved ones who had passed on. The entire time, I was thinking heavily about my mom, wishing I could do the same thing. This young woman was speaking to a medium where the passed-on mother explains to her daughter, through the medium, to not feel guilty, that there was nothing anyone could have done.

But that it was okay. I admit, I burst into tears crying my eyes out. I was missing my mom. I'd been marathoning this Netflix series all night and was getting around 5 a.m. One of the residents who usually woke up at that time to smoke turned on their radio, and it was Lean on Me by Bill Withers. This person typically puts on something more energetic. Pop, alternative or hip-hop.

Out of everything, he put on that song, one that held significant meaning to my mom. It was unlike them to play that track. They had no way of knowing what I was feeling at that time, but I was glad for it. It felt like she was reaching out telling me the same thing, that there was nothing I could have done and that she was okay. This hadn't been the first time that song had come on when I was going through something difficult.

I've been at the pharmacy getting something, going through something serious or stressful, and lean on me would begin playing. So, despite my rocky relationship with her in life, I feel my relationship grew stronger with her in death. Strangely put, sometimes I get flash mental images of her looking younger around the age that I am. now. I'm in my early 30s, healthier and like herself as I remembered when I was young. I think that she knows that I'm fighting some of the same demons that she had, minus the schizophrenia, and she wants me to know that she's still here. I hear you loud and clear. I'm a functional adult, with a career, married for over 10 years, and my kids are far better behaved than I ever was.

Rest assured, Mom, I've got these demons on the run. Thanks for reading my long-winded tail, Raven. You're the best. Hi, Raven. I recently got hooked on your podcast and had been binging on weird tales while they work. Nothing makes spreadsheets more bearable than a soothing voice saying disturbing things. If I may interject my own two cents on that statement, that is literally where I was back in 20,

18, 17, spreadsheets listening to Let's Read, just doing what I could. So I'm right there with you. Anyways, with that in mind, here is my account of a paranormal situation I experienced early in my career. Back in the early 2000s, I was working at a mid-sized public library in the suburbs of a big city. basically a big old building built in the 1910s. The key features were a big foyer with a domed glass ceiling, two main wings of library space, and underneath it all an extensive network of cellar rooms

where we kept the closed stacks. The wiring was old and the lights down there would frequently flicker and fade in and out. Nobody liked going down there, even during the day. I would work a few days there, few days covering the various branch libraries. I was barely 20, so at first I was surprised, but it quickly became normal to be given a set of keys and an alarm code and be sent off to run a rural branch library all by myself all day. On days at the Central Library, there would always

be at least two other people working with me. But due to the size of the building, it was easy to pass a few hours without seeing each other. All this to say, that I was generally quite comfortable being alone in the big old building, and except for the cellar, never had any issues. The seller was the exception. When I first started and before I knew any better, I would be sent to collect things and do so enthusiastically to make a good impression. My first couple of trips, I was more taken up dealing with an incredibly diverse range

of musty smells and trying to avoid the spider webs. It was only once I was getting used to the physical side that I noticed the less physical side of it. I would never feel alone down there. Up in the main library with my two colleagues out of sight, I would feel alone in the immediate sense despite knowing they were a shout away. Down there it felt like someone was right nearby, maybe even in arm's reach. I would always have a feeling of being observed, not in a predator prey sense. more like curiosity.

I never spent long down there. I knew the layout well enough to get in, grab a book, and get out. I would hum or whistle or just do anything to make a bit of noise just in case someone else had come in after me and maybe they were freaking each other out accidentally. After a year or so of working there,

management announced that we would be having some work done on the roof and that we would have a couple of weeks closed to the public. While this was going on, we'd have the fun of carrying out a complete inventory to clear up the catalog items flagged as missing or stuck in transit, and to generally have a good tidy up. I was actually quite pleased, as the break from the public would be nice. And also, at the risk of being a library nerd, a cleaner catalog is easier to work with.

Then it dawned on me that this would include spending a lot of time in the cellar. We estimated at least half the stock was down there, so it would be about half the time. Suddenly I regretted being so keen to make a good impression with regards to the cellar, but, alas, there was an implicit understanding that I'd be covering the bulk of the cellar work at least five days down there. I was stressed out and decided to call my wicked friend to ask for advice. I wasn't really into Wicca as such. I'd read about it and even tried a few spells out of curiosity,

but the spiritual side wasn't really for me. I was on board with the practical side. Having some tools to deal with weird stuff never hurts. She recommended a type of crystal to carry, a polite little introduction I could make when entering, and offered to do some general protection work. I accepted all three and felt more comfortable with the idea. She's not your traditional, quote, new age chick stereotype.

She teaches self-defense classes, and her upper body strength makes her our go-to jar opener. I figured having her backing me up remotely would be enough to make any curious watcher spirits keep to just being curious watchers. Days one and two, went smoothly. I did my introduction speech

announcing that I would be spending more time there and that I was looking forward to a mutually uneventful time. I had a piece of rose quartz in my pocket, the twin of a piece that my friend had set up on her work altar. I would check on it frequently,

so it was probably my own body heat making it warm, but I also told myself that it was an indicator that the magic was working. Day three, was weird. I'd been down there for several hours and was about to break for lunch. It was while I was setting down my work stuff that I checked my pocket

and felt a rush of panic. The stone was missing. I looked around the floor where I'd been working, but there was no sign of it. I slowly started to retrace my steps back to the stairs, figuring I could have dropped it earlier, maybe. I doubted that I'd have gone so long without noticing it, but was trying to stay calm. I found the stone on the top step of the staircase, in front of the door to the library.

The door opens inward, so there's no way it could have fallen and landed there without the door hitting it as it closed. As I said my grateful goodbye as I bent to pick up the stone. It wasn't just room temperature for my lack of touching. It was cold. I slipped it back into my pocket, had my lunch break, and, conveniently found some work to do in the library that would take me up to the end of my shift. That evening I called my friend, we chatted for a bit, and before I mentioned the stone, she told me that she'd been having a tension headache all day that she couldn't shift.

I cautiously mentioned the stone, and she went silent. She wouldn't go into detail, but she said that she'd look into it on her end, and later that night would enhance the protection via the stone on her altar. I slept terribly that night. It was probably just anxiety about the cellar and having to go back down there, but I woke up several times with the persistent sense of being watched. I would flick my lamp on and it would ease off, though not fully leave, and I would get back to sleep until it happened again.

The end result was me waking up late and having to rush to work, arriving groggy from lack of sleep. I was awake enough to have my rose quartz in my hand as I stepped on to the stairs and whispered the greeting message as I slowly descended. The lights were slowly warming up and the dull glow was building as I moved through the gloom to where I'd left off the day before. I was almost at the back of the cellar, and in hindsight I wished I had started there so I could work forward towards the stairs. In any case, I had a couple more rooms to do, the ones were the old. oldest books were. According to our notes, one of the rooms was full of old county council meeting minutes,

and the other was old maps of the local area. The room I'd been working in was the last of the art folios. Most of them were damp and speckled with mold. To be honest, I really should have been given protective gear, more than witchcraft, that is. As I worked through the morning, I was checking the stone a lot, and the feeling of someone nearby was so intense, it felt like someone peering over my shoulder. I was rushing and perhaps not doing as good a job, but frankly, most of those folios were fit for the bin.

I decided I would make a start on the minutes next and then break for lunch. The longer I was down there, the less time I'd have to spend after lunch. I turned to leave the room, and that's when the lights shut off. Not their usual flicker and fade, but a snap. into darkness. I froze and held my breath for as long as I could, and I swear in the silence I could hear a faint sound like shallow breathing. I gripped the rose quartz tight in my fist and held it out in front of me,

embracing myself for a slow, nerve-wracking fumble along the corridor to the stairs. I stepped forward one step, and my outstretched hand felt like it had gone straight into a spiderweb. I shuddered and worried that I lost my or not. orientation. This should have been a clear path to the room's exit. Luckily, my panic was short-lived as the light suddenly sprang back on. I was facing the doorway, and there was no sign of webs in my path or on my hand. The room was silent except for my own panicked breathing and the presence felt nowhere nearby. I took the hint, and I rushed to the stairs with my work stuff.

I didn't want to have to come back for it. During lunch, I checked if anyone else had noticed a power cut or anything, but nobody had. I used the inquiry desk phone to call the coffee shop where my friend worked and waited for her colleague to get her. When she was on the line, she immediately asked if the feeling she had just had had anything to do with me. She explained that she had applied another spell to the rose quartz and was now wearing her piece around her neck. A few minutes ago it suddenly felt like an anchor and she had to stop to steady herself. She'd held it and prayed to her goddesses and allied spirits,

sending light through it to connect to my peace and protect me. The weight eased, but she was left with a musty smell in her nose that couldn't be coming from anywhere in the coffee shop. I recounted what happened to me and she told me not to go back down there until she'd had time to, as she put it, call in the big guns. I thanked her again for helping and apologized for dragging her into whatever this was. I once again found work to do above ground for the remainder of the afternoon. That night, I slept better.

This time I had the rose courts under my pillow. Unlucky for them, but lucky for me, one of my colleagues was ill the next day and I got to work upstairs all day. checking the main library stock was more important, so I didn't have to ask, which took a weight off my mind. Friday passed without incident, and I was looking forward to the weekend. I visited my friend and we hung out together Saturday afternoon, just being normal people for a change, which was nice. That evening, we went to the local woods, and under the starlight she led me in a ritual to invite my own guardian spirits to watch over me. and to call for higher powers to lay to rest whatever was lingering in the library basement.

I'm not sure that I felt anything magical during the ritual, but it felt good to be doing something. I made sure to keep the name of my assigned spirit in mind and kept a scraping a vote of candle wax and a fold of paper as a secondary amulet. Monday morning came, and I had one last trip to the basement. I had my rose quartz, my wax, and my greeting to protect me.

And the remaining work could only take three hours at most, so I'd be done by lunchtime. I felt as confident as someone being haunted by a cellar ghost could be, and I got to work. The lights did their usual wavering at points, and there was a sense of something down there with me, but it felt claustrophobic. It was at least back to its normal distance.

possibly even more so. I think whatever we, or my friend mainly, did that Saturday night, had put the presents back to sleep, maybe. It certainly didn't present any further problems for me for the next year or so, at which point I was accepted into a graduate program to qualify as a librarian and gave my notice. After completing my studies, I got a job at a school library in the city and rarely get time to visit. at the area that I used to work in. I did look up an old colleague online a few years later,

and we got back in contact, swapping tales of our professional woes from time to time. Mostly problem customers or managers with no sense of how the library actually runs, the usual. One story he mentioned, though, got me thinking back to my time there. They had taken on a new page recently, who had been settling in well, except that he was refusing to go into the cellar.

He was saying that the conditions weren't safe to work in, given the damp and the mold. In fairness, that's probably very valid. But my old colleague said that she overheard him talking to the other pages and he stated he wouldn't go down there because, in his words, there are demons down there. I don't know if that's true, but there is something down there. Something that woke up briefly when I was working there

and had to be put back to sleep because it was getting too active. I can only hope that the page was exaggerating or failing that, that someone reenchance the presence to keep it dormant before anyone gets hurt. Hey, Raven, here's another story that is absolutely true. I wish I knew the reason and the purpose behind this, but I guess one day it will be the right time. to reveal it to me. I worked in an office as the secretary to one of the directors.

Our offices were located in the county courthouse, which wasn't a very wide building just tall. At the time, we were on the sixth floor in offices that were at one end of the building. When you came in the door from the hallway, you entered the lobby area and faced the receptionist's desk. immediately to your right and left side of the lobby was an office, and then to the left and right of the receptionist desk were two hallways that led to the back offices. The hallway to the left led to my office. Just before you entered the hallway to my office, there was a pegboard on the left wall with numerous brochures and pamphlets,

dealing with soil conservation, forestry, cultivation practices, etc. all of them hanging on it. Because the corner of the left front office protruded into my office, I had to deal with an extension of the wall, and I couldn't sit at my desk and see the lobby. My desk was just the left behind the wall, and I would have to get up from my desk, go around it, and head back down the short hallway into the lobby.

This event happened in the mid-1970s. I don't remember the exact date. On this particular day, All the office staff were out for the day, and it was just me and the receptionist. I went to lunch at noon and returned at one, at which time the receptionist left for lunch. The way the phone system was set up, I didn't have to stay in the lobby to answer the phones, but could easily do so from my desk. The lobby door was a heavy wooden thing that had a noisy automatic door closer.

There was no mistaking it when it opened or shut. After the receptionist left, I went to my desk and started to put some paper into my typewriter. I heard the door opened, so I proceeded to get up from my desk, go around the typewriter return and my desk, and start down the short hallway to my door. I stopped when I saw a man standing there facing the pegboard. I immediately thought to myself, no one wears madras plaid shirts and khaki pants anymore. He was about 5'7, slender billed, with closely cropped white-ish-blonde hair. I verbally asked him, can I help you, sir? I was probably standing about three feet from him.

I was on one side of the door frame, and he was just on the other side. He turned his body completely to face me, not just his head, but his whole body. When my eyes met his, I felt a hard, shocking jolt. go into my eyes. The jolt was so hard that it knocked my head back, but I brought it immediately forward again. My eyes were still locked on his. To this day, I cannot tell you what color his eyes were.

I'm guessing the time was a lot less than I thought, maybe just a few seconds, even though it felt longer. With his eyes still on mine, he smiled and said, I'll take one of these, and he reached up behind him. him and took a brochure off the peg, turned on his heels, and walked away. My eyes didn't follow him because I was still staring at the space he had just vacated.

It took the sound of the door closing to snap me back into reality. I'm not a hysterical person, and I'm not afraid to investigate strange noises, etc. So the instant that door closed, I immediately took off after whoever this guy was. Like I said earlier, it's a narrow building. The elevator housing takes up the back portion of the floor. I checked the stairwell just outside our door and heard nothing. The stairs are cemented steps. You can't go down quickly even if you tried.

I ran up to where the four elevators were and there was a crowd of people waiting and since the elevators were notoriously slow, I knew one hadn't come along anytime soon. I ran around to the other stairwell and there was nothing there. The only other offices were the county manager's office and a coffee shop. I doubted that he'd be in the manager's office, and I didn't see him in the coffee shop. He'd simply disappeared. The only physical way out was either one of the stairwells or the elevators.

I returned to the office with no answers as to what had just happened to me. Who was this guy? What did he do to me? I didn't feel any different. Did he put something in my mind or take something out? I didn't feel like he was evil, so maybe he was an angel. To this day, I still don't know. As the King of Siam famously said, tis a puzzlement.

I'm confident, though, that one day I will know the answer. It was the year 2000, in Oregon, and I was part of a church-related Boy Scout troop. We had these campouts where the whole troop would go to a secluded place and camp. We often went to this ghost town with the wooded campground across the creek. Coming into the camping area, you have a heavily dense wooded area behind you and to your left, with underbrush so thick that you can't walk through it. To your right, you have a stretch of evergreens that are so tall that you have to look up to see the needles. There's nothing beneath them, so it's just tree trunks and dirt as far as the eye can see.

Then across the meadow from the entrance, there's a pond, no bigger than a small house, surrounded by cat tails and other reeds. I was the loner of our troop, the one that was always bullied. I was pretty naive about the cruelty of teen boys, and they tricked me into things like eating dog jerky, snipe hunts, or even getting abandoned far from camp with nothing but my flashlight encompass during a fake game of flashlight tag.

Due to their antics, I preferred to pitch my tent away from the group, and the trip in question, I set up by the pond while everyone else was under the Evergreens. We all had our dinner, our campfire stories, and the scoutmaster had sent us to our tents to sleep. I was bundled up in my sleeping bag listening to the bullfrogs and crickets, just waiting for sleep to hit me. As I was listening, I realized that they were getting louder and louder.

I thought, oh, that's weird. And then it all went dead, silent. I heard footsteps approaching my tent and yelled, This isn't funny, guys, leave me alone. But the steps kept approaching. No whispering, no laughter, just steps. Then it happened. Whatever it was reached my tent,

and it started shaking the tent violently. I started yelling thinking it was the other boys and that they were messing with me when the smell hit. Rotten eggs and something wet and musky. I don't know what it was. I never saw the creature, but it was violently trying to get my tent out of there. It started pushing it, pulling it, and biting at the poles.

Eventually it broke them. My tent collapsed as I screamed. Just then I saw light through the fabric and heard the things splashing through the pond. The scoutmaster got me out and into a tent with one of the younger boys who weren't part of the bully group, and the rest of the night passed with us undisturbed. The next day, I tried to talk to the scoutmaster, still thinking it was one of the boys taking a prank too far. He refused to talk about it, beyond saying that everyone was in their tents and that it wasn't any of them. I don't know what he saw, but we were told that we couldn't sleep alone anymore, ever.

Our troop was divided into pairs and I got paired with the same boy whose tent I'd been put in the night before. We did our badge work, did some foraging, explored the ghost town, and eventually as the sun was setting, we went back to camp and did our nightly routine. This time the tent I was in was deep in the evergreens. All my stuff had been moved into it, and the boy and I were just talking about the other campers as we waited to fall asleep. That's when it happened again. Everything got really loud and then dead silent.

He started to say something, and I shushed him. The footsteps came from deeper in the evergreens, cracking branches and twigs like it didn't even matter. It came right up to our tent and the smell hit us. The other kid started to open his mouth and I quickly threw a hand over it. I held him down and shook my head no, praying that he didn't make a sound. Thankfully he got the picture. He just laid there stiffly under my grasp. The thing didn't shake the tent this step.

time. It just pushed it once and took a really long inhale through the fabric. Then it walked past, dragging something, maybe a hand or claw across as it walked past. We laid there perfectly still, hearts pounding, shallow breathing, until the smell faded and we heard a loud splash. I don't know how long it was, but we just laid there shivering until the forest sounds came back. I'll never know what the scoutmaster saw, but we were never allowed to put our tents near the water at that campground again. We were never allowed to have a tent to ourselves at any of the camps, always to use the latrine in pairs at night. And lastly, we were never to pitch our tents out of view of the campfire. We camped there many times after that event, but the only time I saw anyone camp near the water, they were in a small camper.

Even they said that they were woken up to something trying to break in. I personally would pitch my tent as far away from the evergreens and the water as I could after that. It's been over 20 years now, and I still have these nightmares of being at that campsite and finding out that all the scouts died overnight. Of course, no one died in the real event, but I have a feeling that it was a close call. I'm not sure of the name of the place, but the ghost town is a historical site, and they're known for letting people camp. If you ever find yourself camping there, stay away from the pond at night, as it does not like anyone near the water. Hi, Raven, I love your channel so much.

I adore the way you read, and you're very kind and great with your readers. Thank you, I do my best. I have a few stories that I've thrown together in this email. I saw your most recent call out for stories, so I thought I would finally put my nose to the grind and tell you some of my experiences. Let me say first that I absolutely love your narration style, please never leave. I won't. I don't tend to at least. Anyway, most of these stories are of the paranormal variety, I believe, but you can decide.

When I tell people outside of my family, they always look at me skeptically. However, no one in my close family thinks they're anything but the truth. They all have their own stories to tell. My mom had a lot of paranormal experiences from a young age. The first story that she told me when I was older was about living next to a medium who held seances. My mom's parents were having a party. My mom and her sister were about eight and ten. My mom asked the medium if she could leave my mom and her sister.

overnight since it would be a noisy party. My mom and aunt settled in, but they started screaming in the middle of the night because disembodied heads were floating around in the room. I know, crazy. Before anyone says anything, my mom and my aunt were totally sane. No diagnosed mental issues, and my mom was not prone to fabrications, so take it as you will. Next, my dad was in World War II. At the time, she had one of my sisters who was about four, and my older brother around three.

Times were hard back then financially. She was staying and working for and with a woman who needed help with housework, cooking, etc. An assistant type thing. One evening, she asked if my mom could wake her up at an early hour. My mom said, sure. According to my mom, she said she was so tired that she slept about an hour beyond that time. But when she woke up, Ms. B was already awake. Ms. B then said to my mom, thank you so much for waking me up earlier.

My mom said that she didn't. She just woke up. Ms. B tells her, no, you definitely came in wearing that blue robe and shook me awake. My mom was very rattled by that. When I was eight, my mom's younger sister, she was in her 40s then, was diagnosed with cancer. This would have been in 1965, so the cancer advancements were not what they were today. The doctors messed up her surgery, and she was not going to survive. We went and stayed in a motel when her sister was pretty bad.

We were there for quite a few days. One night, we were in the motel sleeping around. around 3 a.m. I know, because my mom said something about the late hour, and we heard three loud bangs on the door that, obviously, startled us awake. My mom, my dad wasn't really one to just hop out of bed, and my mom's always been a warrior,

opens the door to find no one. The kicker being that it had snowed a lot, and there were no footprints or any indication of anyone being there. A few hours later, we got a call from my uncle stating my aunt had died around the time of the Knox. It seems that it may have been Death Knox, which many think are legends. In this case, it happened. We all remember it clearly. Back around 2002, I was living in Wisconsin with my ex, and my dad had passed a year or so before in my hometown of Toronto. I was working at a massage clinic at the time.

My mom called me one day at work to chat. She started telling me how my dad kept throwing pictures off the wall. Of course, I'm just taking it with a grain of salt. After I get off the phone, I'm telling my employer about it, making light of it, when the picture we were standing in front of suddenly fell off the wall. So, I guess my dad really did have something to say. It was quite spooky, really. This next part is about my personal experiences.

I've had strange things happen my entire life. So, the most recent would be around 2019 to 2020. The story sounds like an average glitch story, but I think it's a little different. I moved from the United States back to Canada in 2018, when my sister-in-law passed suddenly at 65. My brother was in a very bad place, so I moved in with him to help him out. He lives in a house that's now around 108 years old. My brother is totally no nonsense, laid back to the point that he doesn't gossip or spin tales.

He did mention to me that a few odd things had happened there over the 35 or so years he's lived there. He kept the house with as much original parts as he could. Apparently a four-year-old girl had passed away back when the original family had lived there. Nothing that happened that seemed odd was scary from what I could gather. I would like to explain the house itself. It's really dark in the house without lights. Back when the houses were built, the steel factories were in full swing. The houses were all built for the workers, and they're really close together.

There's maybe four feet between them on either side, so... no light to speak of really gets in. Then in the front living room my brother had planted a tree in the front yard. It grew enormously, so much so that it blocks most of the light. The reason I'm explaining this is for the story. People might say it had something to do with the lights, etc. But I can 100% say that that was not the case. So I was living with my brother taking care of his two bunnies.

I let them free roam when I was home, and his cat, Katie. I was cleaning the bunny's pen one day when suddenly a turquoise ball or orb flew through my line of sight, maybe three feet away at most. I'm thinking, wow, what was that? It was about the size of a squash or racquetball, maybe, and it was blurry as it went by. I couldn't understand it, but thought maybe Katie had thrown a toy across. I don't know.

So I searched around even though I had never seen a turquoise toy. Nothing. It felt very surreal from the get-go. I told my brother and he also said that Katie didn't have a toy like that and that it was weird. About two months later, I was upstairs on the landing washing floors. My brother had just come in from work and was chatting with me from the bottom of the steps. I go back to washing the floor on my hands and knees when the exact same orb like thing goes flying by again.

I yelled at him saying, I saw it again. This further convinced me that it was a paranormal thing. No pets were around. It was bright and blurry and very obvious. I don't know what this was. I moved into my own place about six months later, and these incidences are still vivid in my mind.

and we still talk about it. This next event was maybe more of a glitch, I don't know. I was at my brother's house still and I came home from work putting my phone down. I thought either in the kitchen or dining room. A while later, I couldn't find it, so I searched the whole house. I searched my bedroom, the bathroom, everywhere. I searched for hours. I told my brother and he looked too.

I looked in my car too, even though I knew I had brought it inside, but who knows? We gave up and we went to bed around midnight. The next morning, I wake up and my phone is on my bedside table. I'm thinking, oh, I can't believe I missed it, even though I knew I had looked everywhere in my room. My brother comes home, and I told him how crazy it was that my phone showed up in a place that I looked. He stops in his tracks. What? I found your phone down here.

I put it on the counter by the coffee maker so you would see it when you got up. We have no clue how to explain this. It's so far out of the realm of possibility, the reality we know. We still don't know how to explain this glitch. Paranormal? We don't know, but it's something. Now, going back to my earlier years, maybe four years, maybe four or five years old,

my maternal grandmother, were French-Canadian on that side, so that's what we called our grandmother, lived about three-hour drive from Toronto. We had other maternal relatives there, too. I adored that town. We would often go there, sometimes for extended stays.

My dad would drop us off. It was fun. Anyway, a few strange things happened to me there. My Mamere's town was pretty small and quiet. She had an apartment in an older house on a quiet little street. Twice this paranormal thing happened to me. My mom, my Mamere, and I were standing outside the house. My mom and her were talking French.

I didn't understand any French at that time. I was very bored when suddenly I heard singing coming from the sky, I guess. It was choir style, no words. Not coming from any particular place except just around. It was beautiful. My mom and Mamere were still gossiping, and I interrupted and asked if they heard the choir like angels. They both looked at me and said they didn't know what I was talking about,

that they didn't hear anything. I listened and then asked again. No, they did. didn't hear anything. This happened again a few weeks later. I asked them again and again they said no, I was just imagining it. I wasn't. I thought of this choir singing year after year.

I'm 68 now. I've searched on the internet to try and find something that sounds similar, but nothing I found sounds even close to that ethereal singing. Again, during this time frame, at my Mamira's house, when staying in the same, I'm saying, over, I would lie on the couch where I would sleep. It was hard to sleep on that couch, and I would hear what seemed like hundreds of voices talking over each other. I would try and try to hear what they were saying, but none of the words were clear. They overlapped too much, and I heard this several times. I know I was pretty young, so people may say that I'm misremembering,

but I know what I heard, and again, thought. of this many times up until now. I think that when we're younger, our minds are more open and closer to more paranormal happenings. Of course, I can't say for sure, but these are my truthful expectations. If you're not of the mind to believe them, then I hope you enjoy. But please know that I have experienced these things, and they've been with me my entire life. Hey, Raven, as per your request for paranormal stories, this is absolutely a true story, and it, even after all these years, still causes me a great deal of pain and guilt.

My family grew up poor during the 50s and 60s. My father was uneducated and had a crippled leg and was limited as to the type of work he could do. He could drive a taxi in the winter and manage painting houses in the summer. He had a wife and five kids to support. By 1963, he had secured a job as an airport limousine driver, which he could do all year round. We lived in an old house personally built in 1920 by the original homeowner. Although it had really seen better days, it was dry and had indoor plumbing, so we considered ourselves lucky. It also had other things that weren't totally new to us, as we had lived in other old houses in the past,

that also had these things. These things were unexplained noises, bumps in the night, the feeling of not being alone, you know, the usual haunting maladies. We learned from his relatives that lived nearby that the original owner of the house had dropped dead of a heart attack in the hallway

right outside the bathroom. I did see an entity there once in the form of a ready kilowatt, once a symbol of the power company. It was pure energy, and it came and went rather quickly. I've never been a hysterical person, so I just shrugged and went on with my day. Not long after we moved in, my sensitive Dutch grandmother came to visit for the first time, and when she stepped one foot across the threshold, she said, There's evil here.

I didn't answer her because we already suspected as much. When I was 13, I decided I wanted to hold a seance, but my mother said no. She did allow me to purchase a Ouija board when I turned 15 after I pestered her into it. My sister, who was a year younger than me, and I set up and we began to try and communicate with the spirit of the dearly departed homeowner. We actually had no idea of how or what we were doing, but it was working, and we actually were in contact with something. but it wouldn't spell any answers that we could understand. It was all gibberish and sometimes the planchette would just fly off the board. I had two older brothers, and the next to the oldest had just gotten married a few months before.

It was a Sunday, and he and his wife came over to visit. I finally convinced my new sister-in-law to sit down and try out the Ouija board. At first, she thought I was pushing the planchette, but I told her I wasn't. and that she needed to ask the board a specific question. Her question was, How long will I be married? The planchent went immediately to the number four and then spelled out years.

I clearly remember her laughing and saying, Well, I hope it'll be longer than that. I eventually got rid of the board and concentrated on my high school education, hoping to graduate one day. We were still having incidences in the house, but we weren't really scared, because we never really felt threatened by anything. If anything, my sister and I both experienced individually a couple of moments when we were actually protected from some evil thing. We were going to our bedroom by way of the living room through my parents' bedroom, which dumped out into the hall, across from which was our room.

We got inside our parents' bedroom and could not proceed any further, no matter how hard we try. It was literally like a force field. There was a closet that jutted out there on the right that blocked our view of the hallways so we couldn't see anything. When I went back to the kitchen to tell my mother and my sister what had just happened, my sister interrupted me to say it had happened to her but a few days before. In 1967, the year before I graduated high school, my brother and his wife had a baby girl. She was the first grandchild in the family, and I had no qualms about spoiling her. In 1968, I graduated from high school and got a job.

By this time, my little brother and I were the only two siblings left in the house, my sister having foolishly gotten married too young. In August of 1969, I was still living at home and riding to and from the city with a neighbor of mine. She always let me off at the end of the driveway, and I walked the short distance to the house. I came home to a deathly quiet house. In the kitchen, food was in pots and pans on the stove, still warm, and the table was set for supper. But no one was there. I couldn't even begin to imagine what a little bit of.

happened. About 10 minutes later, I heard my father's car drive up, and there they all were. My mother informed me that my sister-in-law had been in an accident, and that we needed to call my brother and get to the hospital. She was driving a Volkswagen Beetle, and she did have a tendency to drive it a little faster than she should have. The accident was a one-car accident, and to this day, no one knows for sure what happened. The trooper thought some teenagers were racing down the hill toward her and encountered her coming up around the blind curve at the bottom. She ran off the road and overcompensated on getting back on, causing the car to flip. I won't go into the tragic details of the accident, but we'll say that my niece was spared.

When the car rolled over on its top, the back window came out, and my two-and-a-half-year-old niece, who'd been standing in the back seat, came out with it. This was before seatbelts, never mind child seats. Unfortunately, my sister-in-law passed away a few hours later, too badly injured to survive. Now, there was another event that foreshadowed that one. The Saturday night before, my brother and his wife were visiting. We were all sitting around the kitchen table. It's a southern thing.

It was a regular summer night, dark out in the country, and the usual sounds of frogs, crickets, cicadas, and katydids, all competing to be the loudest. All of a sudden, the night grew silent, but only for a few seconds. Then we began to hear a screech owl joined by another, then another, and another, until there was such a loud roar that we almost had to cover our ears. It sounded like a thousand or more were just outside the kitchen window. My father went to get his 22 rifle, stepped out the back door, and fired off a couple of rounds. You have never heard such a fluttering of wings in all your life, but they did leave,

and it took a few minutes before the regular nighttime chorus returned to normal. We didn't know what to make of it, and I don't think we even wanted to try. My brother and his wife left shortly afterwards. Later after the tragedy, my father told my grandfather about the screech owl incident and was reprimanded by his dad. Son, you never shoot at a screech owl, especially when he's screeching. Now, the next day, my brother and his wife returned in the afternoon, and my sister-in-law was in such a great mood.

She said that she didn't know why she felt so good. They had stopped by a store to get some drinks, and the woman behind the counter noticed how happy my sister-in-law was. When my sister-in-law told her that she didn't know why she felt so good, the woman didn't smile, but told her that her granny always said that was a sign that she was about to die. Of course, my sister-in-law scoffed at that. Little did she know at that time that she only had one more day to live.

I don't know when it actually hit me, but sometime right after the funeral, I realized that the Ouija board prediction had come true. My brother and his wife were married on August 4th, 1965. She was killed on August 25, 1969, four years after her marriage to my brother. I've always felt guilty for convincing her to do the Ouija board with me, but people have told me that her life was already planned.

that the accident was already her destiny, and that's how the demons knew. Yes, they are the moderators of the Ouija board, because they can see the future. After she did the Ouija board with me, we never mentioned it again. I doubt she even gave it a second thought and put it completely out of her mind. Even so, I still feel guilty somehow. Hi, Raven. This is my second story, and maybe it's not as weird as the ghost cat, but it's certainly odd. I used to live at one end of a long residential street that took at least 15 minutes to walk from end to end.

My journey to and from work involved having to walk the whole length of this road daily. Most of the houses on this road were three-story Victorian and more or less identical. That was except for two, which were. smaller, older, and cottage-like, and had been farm workers' cottages long before the area was built up. It's hard to put into words, but there was something about one of these two older houses that really bothered me. It got to the stage that I became so unnerved that I began to cross the road rather than walk so near to it. A feeling of apprehension used to rise up in me every time I approached that house, but I was a I never knew why.

Eventually, however, I moved and just kind of forgot the whole thing. Several years later, though, I was working a night shift at that same job. This was an out-of-hours call center for emergency repairs, etc., and the overnight period was often very quiet. It was often a case of just being there just in case, and we spent most of the time drinking coffee, ordering pizza, and having in-depth conversations on increasingly bizarre subjects just to stave off boredom. One of these nights, being interested in local history,

I was on the town's local newspapers website, browsing the nostalgia columns, which contained a roundup of news from years gone by. The format was usually what had happened on today's date, but 10, 20, 30, 40 years ago, etc. This was 26. and there was a news item from 1976. Imagine my shock when I saw an old picture of the road on which I had once lived,

showing that very house that had once bothered me so much. It was a sad story of a house fire in which a six-year-old boy had died. There was a harrowing description of him clawing in vain at an upstairs window and trying to escape before being overcome by smoke, while neighbors were powerless to reach him. Horrible as it was, I put it down to a really weird coincidence. A few years have passed, and I hadn't been back to that area for a while. I was playing in a band, and we had a gig in a pub a few streets away.

Being a Friday night, it was busy, and there wasn't any parking outside the pub, so we had to park the van some distance away. I was cursing under my breath as being being busy, the bass player I had a bulky amplifier to struggle with. Imagine my shock when I noticed we had parked right outside that old house on my old road. In fact, there was no other parking space in sight. Immediately it became clear that the atmosphere that used to surround the place was replaced by a sense of calm. I'm not saying that this was a supernatural occurrence, but it was definitely odd.

It was almost as if knowing the sad history of the house somehow pacified the uneasy spirit of the place Anyway, still loving the channel, keep it weird So for context, I'm 14 in male Some background, the place this took place was my grandparents' house In the woods behind the house Anyways, for the story So for holidays or just for fun,

we go to my grandparents' house, and I love to explore the woods. But anytime I go alone, I see something watching me. And if I try to ignore it or listen to music, it gets so strong, so I don't ignore it. Also, it's always dead silence, unless there's more than just me. But lately, it's been showing itself more. The last time I was there, it was with a few family members, all guys, three of them, and there's this trail kind of thing. I couldn't run because I would start coughing so bad, but they ran ahead of me, and they were yelling help to scare me, but then one of them says they saw something run across the path, but none remember it.

But when I was heading to them, I felt something watching me, so I turned around, and for a split second, I saw one of them. and before anyone says that it was probably my imagination, he was wearing a pink hoodie, and I told him all. Also, if anyone knows anything about this, please tell me. Hello, Raven. I found your channel through a recommendation from a friend of mine, and had been listening to your narrations every night.

Your voice is very soothing and helps me ease off to sleep. Thank you. And thank you for sharing so many great stories. So the story I heard from my late grandpa when I was a kid. He was a Vietnamese soldier during the American War in Vietnam, and he heard this story from his comrade who swears of what happened to him being real. His friend, let's call him A, and his troop, which included my grandpa, were in a scout mission in a remote area in the Mountain of Kontum.

This region is occupied by the ethnic group people of Vietnam, They have a different belief in worship mountain gods. The population of this area was very low during the wartime, so being able to find a house to stay in was very difficult. So A's troop decided to divide into small groups to scout and find civilians' houses to stay in for the night. A went off with two other guys and found an old lady living in a wooden house way up the mountain. She agreed to let them stay for the night, so

They were very happy about that. But the mood really turned from happy to worry when they all got into her house. In the middle of the room, a big closed wooden coffin was placed in a very unnatural and unusual way. They asked her about it, and then the old woman just replied, You don't need to mind about that coffin. I'm old, don't have any children, and I might die any day now. So I just have that coffin there, so when I feel like I don't have long left to live, I can just go lie down in it and rest.

Still skeptic about her answer, and to be honest, a bit scared of the coffin, A. wanted to leave. But his comrades assured him that it's probably nothing, just an old lady living in the woods who just tried to be thorough about her death. Besides, there were no other places they could stay around the area, and it would only be for one night. So they finally settled in, three of them sleep together on the floor, just a few meters away from the coffin, and the old lady sleeps in her bed. I forgot to mention that A is very short and had a frail body. Imagine Captain America before the Super Soldier Serum.

So A is sleeping in the middle, and his two comrades are still. sleeping on both sides. They're bigger than him. So if you don't look carefully, it would look like only two big guys were sleeping there. Everyone was sleeping peacefully, and then A got woken up by a strange sound coming from the coffin. The lid of the coffin was sliding open by itself, and then a pale figure slowly sat up and moved out of the coffin. It was a full moon night with clouds, so he couldn't see the figure clearly. clearly, but definitely saw a thin, pale figure.

That thing slowly moved toward their spot. A was scared, so he tried to not move and pretend that he was still sleeping. The thing then bent down and was face to face with the guy lying in the nearest to the coffin. A foul stench emitted from that thing, but A tried his best to not make a sound or show any emotions. After a few moments, the thing then slowly was. walked back to this coffin. At this point, A was frightened and he wanted to desperately move, but fear got the best of him. Then the sound started again, and that thing was now up, and went to the other guy on the other

side of A. The figure finally went back to the coffin. After a while, A finally got the courage to move. He tried to wake up his friends, but the moment he touched them, he could feel their bodies were icy cold and there were no pulse, no signs of life. At this point, he just freaked out and quickly ran away from that place. He was running frantically in the woods for the whole night until morning, back to the meeting spot of the troop.

That was where he told everyone the story, and no one believed him, of course. They tried to find the old lady's house again, but there was no sight of it. The jungle parts of Vietnam are legitimately scary to me. there are a lot of stories about ghosts, witches, and sometimes even demons up there in the mountains. There's even a love charm that they can use to bewitch people to give up their life in the city and move there. The story scared me as a kid, but now I don't know if it's true or not. Maybe the way I told the story wasn't that scary. I'm just typing it out as I remembered it.

I can't ask my grandpa now as he has passed away years ago, but I still hope that you all enjoyed it. Thank you, and good night, Raven. Hey, Raven, I thought I would write to you about my state, North Dakota. You probably remember my story about the burial ground child ghost and his wolf a while back. In my city, we have a haunted park called Trollwood. It used to be a Pauper's Cemetery, a farm, and an asylum. There are stories of the spirits of a woman in a blue dress, a demon with red eyes, and a farmer yelling the equivalent of, Get Off My Lawn.

There is one other, a cemetery guardian. They say they dug up and reburied the dead elsewhere, but I can tell you, the guardian remains. A friend and I dared an after-dark trip. We entered, and it seemed okay at first, but within the first ten minutes, a shadow approach. I could see from the waist down a pair of legs. We stopped, and I attempted to ask it if we could pass. Nope. It ran at us, and I'm not ashamed to say that we ran.

I brought equipment which alerted me by voice of a quote guardian. I was correct. The second story takes place in a trailer park. My parents were buying a trailer home for the family farmstead, so my mom and I went to take a look at. at it. As we stood outside, I turned around, my typical ghost sense going off, only to see a large group of shadow spirits doing a thriller-like zombie walk through the park. It terrified me. I immediately told my mom, we're leaving now. She hates what I see, so I saved her from the information.

There are a lot more stories that I will send you. The city is like a train depot to the dead. fun times. But thanks, Raven, and keep being awesome. 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 to all of my content. It is formatted differently as it goes in line with what my YouTube channel is,

but it is the same stories, just different collections. There is also a website, astherravendreams.com, where you can check out pretty much everything about me, my social media platforms, fiction stories I've written if you want to read those, as well as submitting your own stories, which there's a big button on the front page you click to do so. And those stories basically keep the podcast alive, to be honest with you. So, yeah.

All that said, friends, I do hope that I see you again here very soon. Until then, remember that you are loved, that you are valid, that you are important. You're the best you that you can be. Don't forget it. And until next time, much love. And sleep well.