As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 203 - Scary Childhood Experience & Scary Home Alone Stories

Episode Date: November 29, 2025

Today, on the 203rd 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 Scary Childhood Stories & Horrifying Home Alone 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... NECatDad, BillyInTheOcean, Tall&Quirky, Think_Ad5855, CBEatsBark, JuniorByNameOnly, Alessandra Moore , Madison G As Well As Any Author That Has Requested Anonymity. TimeStamps… Ad breaks after Story 1 & Story ### 1 ➤ 1:24 2 ➤ 13:28 3 ➤ 28:39 4 ➤ 37:46 5 ➤ 55:55 6 ➤ 1:13:13 7 ➤ 1:16:09 8 ➤ 1:20:16 ----- 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 #ChildhoodHorror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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I do hope that you are doing well. As you clicked on to this podcast, I bet you didn't expect me to be all well-wishing and happy, did you? Well, I am. Today we have some scary childhood and home-alone stories. These stories are, in my opinion, some of my favorites, actually. These are really good stories. really good, interesting happenings,

and I appreciate those that submitted them into the podcast. Yeah, just really good stories in my opinion, so hopefully you all do enjoy them. Yeah, I'm trying to think of what I could get you to comment about this time around, but I don't really have anything. I guess I just asked, do you have any childhood memories you'd like to share?

If so, consider commenting them. They don't have to be good, bad, neutral. It doesn't only matter. If you have something that's on your mind about your childhood, you'd like to share, consider doing so. Never expected. So if you don't feel comfortable, please don't do so. Um, all that said,

hope you enjoy the stories. Hope I see you again here very soon. But until then, much love and sleep well. I wanted to share a story from the first house that my wife and I bought back in 2011. We wanted to find our first home that we could really make our own. We ended up finding and falling in love with this 1960s ranch

in what seemed like a quiet suburban neighborhood. The price was within our budget, which was so surprised based on the house, but it did also need some work. That didn't deter us, however, because we were looking forward to fixing it up together, really getting to put our love into it and our own spin on things. It even had a huge backyard where we planned to build it. a screened-in porch for our three cats to enjoy. The bones of the house were solid, per the inspector.

It just kind of needed some TLC. The move-in went smoothly. We had plenty of help from family and friends. We met our neighbors across the street, who was an older lady. She seemed very sweet and talkative when we met her. She told us the person that owned the house before us was an older guy, and she thinks that he passed away. From what I could see on the seller's paperwork, it was a younger person, so I think it was the parents' home and she sold it. The house on our left was an older couple who kept to themselves, but they waved when they saw us.

The house on the right, however, was a bit different. We'd see all different people coming and going at all hours of the day. Some people were dropped off. Some were wearing normal clothes, others and nice pants. and shirts. We figured that it was maybe a rental with high turnover, or maybe even something like an Airbnb or adult kids moving in and out. Either way, it wasn't really our business.

They didn't bother us either, so we just left it alone. We started our repairs soon after moving in, starting on the things that needed to be fixed first. That's when we first noticed our cats acting weird. Well, if you have cats, it's probably not really weird, but you'll understand. All three of them would be in the living room, sometimes sitting on the floor or the couch, and would be staring at the wall. At first I thought they saw a bug on the wall. I went over to look for it, not wanting them to try and eat it if it was dangerous, but I never found any.

I figured it had probably crawled into some crevice behind a shelf or somewhere out of my view. But this behavior became pretty consistent for them. It didn't happen every day, but when it did, we noticed, because of how all of them reacted. I was used to that behavior for my two younger cats, but my older guy didn't really care for that kind of stuff anymore. So when whatever it was had his attention, I knew that I needed to pay more attention.

I started to wonder if maybe they saw or heard mice. It was an older house, so it was entirely possible. And with how long they would sit there and stare at the wall and floor, I was starting to fear that it was mice. So, after about a week of that, my wife and I finally heard a slight scratching sound while in the kitchen, and noticed the cats once again staring at the wall. It moved along the wall from the living room,

toward the back of the house, so I was pretty well convinced we had a mouse. The next day I went and got a bunch of traps, put them behind the fridge, under the cabinets, in the basement, and along the outside of the house. I checked them daily throughout that week, and we didn't catch a single one. So either we didn't have mice, or they were too smart for the traps.

Either way, the sounds continued, and we didn't know what else to do other than call pest control to make sure we didn't have a bigger problem. I told my wife that I would call someone, but admittedly, I kept forgetting to do it for a few days, especially since it didn't happen daily. Thankfully, she's not the type to nag and nag me about something like that, but I also knew that we needed to get it done before we started making repairs outside. We certainly didn't want to trap something in.

The following week, my wife was going to be away for three days, because her mother was having a heart surgery. Her parents were older, and her dad already had a bad niece, so they were going to need some help when she got home. I did offer to go and help out, but she declined, saying I should stay home with the cats,

not wanting to have to move them again, even if it was temporary. We had moved about four hours away, which is why she was just going to stay there with her parents. It made sense, and also gave me some time to work on some things, around the house, including calling that pest control person. She left on a Thursday morning, and I went to work as normal.

I went home that evening, and as I sat in the living room alone, I started hearing that scratching sound again, reminding me to call. I called a local company, but they didn't answer. I assumed they may have been closed by then, so I left a message to make an appointment for the next day. In the meantime, I thought I would try to check it out. and see if I could at least find the source, even if it meant I had to tear apart any sort of organization or unpacking we had done.

I watched my cats as they stared at the wall again and followed as one of them stared at the floor. I got on my knees and listened for it. I heard slow, long scrapes, then there were several short, fast ones at once. It seemed to be a bit clearer in the kitchen, and then off to the other side of the kitchen was the stairs to the basement. I went down the stairs and continued hearing the scratching toward the external wall. The basement was unfinished with concrete block walls and exposed ceiling joints,

but if the owner was an old man, then it made sense. You probably didn't have a reason to finish it, or a need to. But as I got closer to the back wall and corner, that scratching got much more pronounced. But it was also a lot stronger, than what I would expect from a mouse. Maybe a raccoon? A dog?

I had no idea. But I knew that I was getting close to figuring out what it was. I reached the corner of the room where my basement window well was and I saw some movement. My initial thought was maybe it was entering from there. The window had been pretty hidden

as it was behind the house and partially covered by an overgrown bush that we hadn't trimmed yet. So I didn't even think to check it at that time. But the window itself didn't open up, so I'd have to go outside to catch our culprit. I went back upstairs, grabbed a flashlight, and walked out the front door and around to the back.

Once I got to the back, I could hear the scratching clearly. That was definitely where it was coming from, but the worst part was that I no longer thought it was an animal. Along with the scratching, there were small, grunts and almost a whine to it. Was there a person scratching at my wall? And yes, that's actually exactly what was happening. I moved aside part of the bush and I saw some of the sighting bent upward.

I pointed my flashlight at the bottom and I saw a man's face with wide, bulging eyes staring back at me, sticking out from inside the wall of my house. Now, I do not. feel good about this. But it was at that moment, I freaked out, and I didn't know what I was doing. I threw my flashlight at the man's face, heard him yell, and then I ran back inside my home. I called the cops and reported that I thought there was a man breaking into my house. I could still hear the scratching from inside and was freaking the hell out.

When the police finally arrived, I took them around back and the man I saw was now almost completely out of the wall. The police helped pull the man out and asked if I recognized him, and I didn't have a clue who he was. They had me go back inside, and I gave them my statement there. Getting the whole story out that night was just as crazy. As it turns out, the man that was in my wall was one of our neighbors to the right, the ones that we really didn't know.

That house was actually a halfway house for men transitioning out of prison. and addiction treatment, or even some therapy clinics. The people we kept seeing were either the nurses and staff or the residents, which is why we saw the same people for several weeks, and then never again. The man in my wall, I'll call him Fred, had been suffering from some mental disorders and withdrawal, and when he was around too many people, he'd become overstimulated and such, and he left the house.

He didn't go far as he realized he could, he'd use the window well to access the wall cavity. He pried up part of the siding and him being such a scrawny guy, was able to pretty much shimmy in between the walls. There wasn't much room to do anything, other than stand there, or I guess in his case lie on his side, but he did it, and he claimed that it helped him calm down to ground himself. Like I said, he'd been doing this for a couple months.

due to his condition he was a long-term resident there, so when he had too much, he went to our house. No one ever caught him doing this, and no one had been living there, so it wasn't reported. We were just lucky enough to get the house and wanted to deal with the problem before it got worse. One of the cops there that night was familiar with Fred, and one of the staff members came over that night and apologized to me, and I overheard a lot of the conversation she had with the police. That's actually how I got a lot of the information above. After all was said and done, I didn't press charges, feeling bad that I gave him a nosebleed and possibly a black eye with the flashlight.

One of the cops actually helped me press down the siding, and, in the meantime, I went and screwed it to the wall a bunch as a temporary fix until I could get it fixed properly. I called my wife, after my wife. after everyone left and finally reported it all to her. She was kind of freaking out at first, but this was exactly why I was glad that I was home alone, so she didn't have to witness it. Because, man, even though I know he was probably harmless, those eyes staring back at me,

it was some real nightmare fuel. I slept with the TV turned up pretty loud, so I couldn't hear anything around me. We ended up spending a pretty penny to have the entire perimeter wall passage professionally sealed and the basement secured. But at least we knew that that wouldn't happen again. I didn't see Fred after that. I assume he was probably transferred somewhere else since, sadly, they weren't a fit for him if he was able to leave when he shouldn't have. I do honestly hope that he's living in a better place, where he feels, safer than he did in my walls.

This happened back when I was very young, so some of this is what I remember, but there's a lot of info in this that I got from my parents when I was older, so I apologize in advance if I'm missing some details in between. Back in the early 90s, my sister and I had a babysitter that watched us for several years. I'll call her Sadie, and I remember her as being a very sweet, sweet and fun girl. She was 18 or close to that age the last time that I saw her. I don't even remember how my parents found her.

Both of my parents worked. My dad owned an auto shop and my mom was a nurse. I didn't remember this, but my parents told me that Sadie used to watch me when I was younger. Then she would be there when I got home from preschool. When my mom had my sister Isabel, she of course was home for a while. and got me off to school and greeted me at home. Sadie still watched us during the holiday breaks, or on those random nights that my parents went out.

Once my sister was old enough to be left with a babysitter and mom's maternity leave ran out, Sadie would then start watching us again when I got home from school. I didn't mind either. Like I said, she was a great person, and it was almost like having an older sister around. She always played with us and was just a genuinely good person to spend time with. And of course, my parents loved her too. Her parents had come over before. Sometimes they dropped her off and picked her up, but for the most part, she drove herself.

That was until her car broke down. But without hesitation, my parents offered to let her borrow our family van so that she could still watch us. That's how much they trusted her. her. They basically handed over a $20,000 vehicle at the time to a teenager because they knew she needed it. And to be honest, if she didn't have a reliable way to get to our place, one of our parents would have to stay home with us, which wasn't really an option. She had it when she was watching us, that way she had a vehicle in case of emergencies, which did come in handy when she watched us that summer, which meant that Sadie was at our house more often.

Now, Sadie also had a boyfriend that all called Sam. Sam seemed like a good guy. He was, I think, a year or two older than Sadie, because I remember someone saying how he wasn't in school anymore. He was always nice to us, too, and played with us when he came over, and my parents knew he was there, too. Sadie was a very responsible girl and she never did anything questionable when he was over. I think I saw them holding hands once or twice, but that was about it. He would swing by sometimes and hang out for a while and then leave. One time he even brought us some ice cream for McDonald's.

Sometimes he would be there the entire time and my mom would come home first, typically, and then talk to both of them, treating them the same, so I knew that he would be there. He was just as welcome in our home. But things started to go wrong. It was one day that she was watching us when she had my mom's van. She'd had it for about a week or two at that point, and she was telling my mom that Sam was going to help her get the part that weekend to fix it. My mom even told me how she offered to have my dad look at it since he did have a shop,

but Sadie declined, not wanting to be a burden on them. I know my mom hates herself for that too, for not pushing the matter or insisting, but she assumed that it was just because she was becoming an adult and she wanted to take care of things on her own, to prove herself and to others that she was independent. Once mom left, the day went as normal. We played, watched TV, and did whatever we did at that time. While we were having lunch, Sadie went into the living room and was, talking on our phone.

The conversation started to sound a bit heated. I remember her saying something along the lines of, You're supposed to have it fixed by now. And how she had to give the van back. When she returned to the kitchen, I asked her if something was wrong and she was back to her normal, happy self saying that everything was fine.

We finished up our day without me thinking about it any further. When my mom got home that evening, evening. I was in the room when Sadie explained that her car should be fixed that night, so she would bring the van back tomorrow. And my mom was okay with this, and they continued talking. My dad had been taking her to work while Sadie had the van, but my mom had a later shift that next day due to some kind of training things, so she was going to have to drive herself. The next morning is where things went wrong. I got up when I normally do, had my breakfast, and when I went to the living room to watch cartoons,

that's when I noticed Sadie wasn't there yet. Usually she was there when I finished breakfast. I asked my mom if she was coming, and I remember my mom sounding a little stressed. She confirmed yes, but said that it appeared that she was running late. I thought nothing else and just continued watching TV. Shortly after, my mom sat Isabel next to me, asking me to keep an eye on her as she finished getting ready for work. Again, Sadie was usually around, sitting with us when my mom did that, so it was odd. By 9 a.m., an hour after Sadie should have been there, and no word from her mom, my mom began to get worried.

I remember her calling someone, it was Sadie's parents, and asked, asking about her. Then my mom also called my dad. I remember her saying his name and talking about what to do because if she didn't show up, she would have to miss work. Then, a little after 9 a.m., there was a knock at the door. My mom quickly opened it, all of us expecting Sadie, but instead it was Sam. He smiled, but he looked a little nervous, and my mom asked him what he was doing there. He said that Sadie and him had made plans to meet at our place that morning so he could drive her home since she was returning the van. His explanation made sense, but then he was also confused as to why she wasn't there.

My mom asked if he knew where she was, and he said that he last saw her the night prior to and had no idea. My mom went to her bedroom, taking the cordless phone while Sam stayed in the living room with us. He was playing with Isabel and one of her dolls, and then would talk to me about what I was watching and doing, just like he would any other day. Other than Sadie seemingly missing in action, everything else seemed pretty normal to me.

An hour had almost passed when my mom told Sam that he should probably head home and that she would let him know or tell Sadie to contact him if they got a hold of her or heard from her. He agreed. gave us both a high-five and left. When he talked to my mom, he did have a look of concern, too. Like, he felt that something was wrong.

My mom ended up staying home with us that day, but there were a lot of calls coming in and going out as well, something I didn't really understand at the time. It only added to my confusion and my concern when my dad came home, and my parents continued talking in hushed tones, not really saying much in front of us. The next few days became pretty chaotic, and not our normal schedule.

There were several more calls, and we had a few visitors. There was a man and a woman that came by the next day. They kind of looked like cops. They had on similar uniforms, but not exactly. Later that night, there was a couple that came over, and I remember the woman had been crying, and she hugged my mom and then my mom started crying too. They asked me to go play in my room as they all sat in the living room talking.

The day after, my dad stayed home with us and my mom was gone most of the day, but she wasn't dressed like she was going to work. My mom then stayed home with us for two more days, again, taking a lot of calls, and then after that my aunt was watching us pretty regularly. I like my aunt. She was never mean to us or anything, but as a young child, I was still curious as to what happened to Sadie. Where was she? And why was she not watching us anymore?

My little self honestly thought it had something to do with the van since we still didn't have it back. Eventually, we did get the van back, but I think it was about a week later. But it was strange because after needing it back so badly, they got rid of it, and got a new one. My aunt continued to watch us throughout the rest of that summer, and after I went back to school, we got a new babysitter.

She was nice, too. She played with us, but she never got as goofy as Sadie would. Really, I just wanted Sadie back. But when I brought it up to my mom, I remember the sadness in her face, making me immediately think that I said something wrong. But she smiled and just said that,

Sadie was grown up now and had to do a better job. I left it at that and just never really brought it up again. Until I got older, that is. When I was in high school, the four of us were having dinner, and I was asked to watch my sister because they were going to be home late. I'd been watching my sister for some time now, no more need for a babysitter, but I made a joke about getting paid for it.

Then I kind of randomly just decided to ask about safe, I made a comment about her age and wondered if she still lived nearby and my parents got quiet. Now that I was older, I understood that look. They were hiding something. I asked what exactly happened with her, and I would have never guessed the truth. The day that Sadie watched us and had been arguing on the phone, she'd been arguing with her boyfriend at the time, Sam. Sam was supposed to be working and fixing her car, but had supposedly kept putting it off,

and she was getting rightfully frustrated. After she left that night, she apparently had an argument with Sam in person, and that's where things went bad. Sam went berserk and attacked her. He had hit her in the head so many times that she was knocked unconscious. Fearing that he had just killed her, he threw her in the back of the van, our van, and dumped her in the woods off the highway. He cleaned up the blood in the van, dropped it off at Sadie's place, and then walked back to his place.

He lived about two blocks away. The next day, knowing that she was supposed to show up at our place, he came over and pretended that he had no idea what was going on. He held my sister, he played with me. the guy who had just brutally attacked one of the sweetest girls I've ever known. It apparently aided him too because the next day, he confessed. His parents brought him in, he told them everything, and led to them where he had dumped Sadie. By some crazy miracle, Sadie was still alive, but barely.

Her skull was fractured and she had lost a lot of blood. This is why Sadie's parents had showed up at our place, and the other cop-looking people that were there were detectives. They were already suspicious of Sam because he parked the van on the street instead of in the driveway like Sadie always did. Not to mention, they never saw her actually come home. Her bed was never touched as she always made her bed, but Sam claimed that she hadn't stayed the night with him that night either.

They didn't feel like his story was adding up, so they had all showed up at our place to tell my parents that she'd been found, but they had to keep our van as evidence. Once it was all done, my parents clearly didn't want to keep that thing, so they traded it in for a new one. Sam was arrested and charged, and Sadie had a long road to recovery, which is why she never came back. She actually had to learn to walk again, but she did it. She also has problems with her eyesight and her left eye now. But even through all of that, she healed. She went to college and was actually working at a hospital out of state. She became a nurse, like my mother.

I was stunned. It was in our local news, but I never saw any of it, thanks to my parents not wanting us to know when we were still so young. I was horrified, though. All I knew was Sadie was gone, and so was Sam, who I thought was pretty cool, too. My parents did say that they saw Sadie when she was in recovery, and she was happy to see them. After all she went through, her worry was not being there that next morning, making my mom call in. That's the kind of person she was.

I still haven't reached out to Sadie after all these years. My sister doesn't remember her as much as I do, but I do want to just ask how she is. I know my parents have said there were no hard feelings toward us, but part of me still feels weird about it. Anyway, I just wanted to share how my babysitter was almost killed and how her attacker spent a lot of time around us too. Thankfully, the story does have a fairly happy ending,

and Sam is still incarcerated. I have a pretty basic and kind of nothing happened sort of story from when I was a kid. But it scared the ever-loving hell out of me back then, and I really don't have answers for it other than the obvious possibilities. This all happened when I was 13, so mid-90s. My parents used to occasionally go out to their friend's house on Saturday night to have a group dinner and play cards. It wasn't an every weekend thing, more like an weekend thing. more like in every two to three weeks. They would leave me home with my older brother, David.

David was newly 17, had a new girlfriend that he'd been with for a few months, and he was good about telling me he'd be back before my parents, and if I told them that he was sneaking out, he would unalive me. So on those nights, it was just me. Our house was pretty old. It had a few spots in the living room and hallway

that would pop and creak when you walked through. It was pretty much impossible to do anything in the main area at night in a sneaky way. I was pretty well used to the usual sounds when people were around. None of it scared me. Of course, when you're alone and you hear those sounds, things feel a bit different. I was in the living room reading a book when nature called. I didn't like the half-bath that was downstairs, so I went up the stairs to the full bathroom to do what I needed to do.

After a few moments while I was up there, I heard what sounded like a rhythmic thumping sound, like a soft thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. Like heavy but slow steps. It sounded like someone was walking through the back part of the house, near the back door and kitchen. At first I thought I was just hearing things, old house sounds of the furnace kicking on or something like that,

but then there was the tell-tale sign that there was, in fact, somebody downstairs, the pop and squeak of that living room floorboard. There was, without a doubt, someone walking around down in the living room, and there I was, caught with my pants down with nothing to protect me from someone with malicious intent but a flimsy bathroom door. At least the knob locked, so I guess I was. I guess there's that. I stood there with my ear to the door trying to listen for where the person was walking to.

Of course, I had a few thoughts. Maybe David was home early. Maybe it was my parents that were home early and David was going to be unalived by my dad. But something told me that it wasn't either one. I think it was how slowly they were walking around. My throat was dry and my heart was beating fast. I think I just instinctually knew. that this was not someone that should be in my house.

I know that sounds silly, but at that age, I think I was just trying to will it to be my family, because anyone else was too terrifying of a possibility. Then I heard someone call out, Hey, David, are you here? But they didn't, like, yell it out. They called it out creepily,

almost sing-song-like. like they were intentionally trying to be creepy, stretching out all the syllables of every word. At that point, I was obviously certain that it wasn't anyone in my family, but it was someone that knew my brother. Again, I thought maybe they were just a friend of his, but why would they have broken in to the mostly dark house in the middle of a Saturday night,

instead of knocking on the door or calling to see if he was there? I turned the bathroom light off just in case they came up the stairs. I didn't want them to see that someone was in the bathroom. And I listened. I could hear the person walking around and calling out for David again. Then it sounded like they were rifling through some random things. Like they were looking for something, but not finding what they were looking for. After a few more moments of all that, I heard the person walk toward the steps.

then step on to the first step. Again, my heart was pounding. I thought for sure they were going to find me. Now, I don't believe in guardian angels or anything like that, but if they exist, then mine was absolutely looking out for me at that exact moments in time. On the stairs, my dad had installed one of those carpet runners, the kind that you attach to the stairs firmly and tightly so that it doesn't move, but it protects the steps.

Well, the third step, however, was partially detached, my fault. And if you stepped on it wrong, it could slip. It wouldn't slip completely off the step, but just enough that if you weren't paying attention, you could very easily lose your footing. I think you probably see where this is going. because this home intruder's lack of knowledge of our house worked out in my favor. I heard him take the first step, quietly say David again in that stretched out way, and then I heard him slip, a very loud thud, and then him screaming a few F-bombs.

After a few minutes of him yelling and groaning in pain, I heard another voice say, Holy shit, dude, are you okay? I wanted to panic about the fact that there were two guys in the house, not just the one, but I also wanted to laugh my ass off at the fact that this idiot had broken into our home and most likely bashed his head onto the top step while committing his crime. The first guy said something like, I hit my head on the steps. I can't have a sea straight, dude.

They talked back and forth for a few more moments, and in their conversation, the second person said that they would just get what they needed from David later, and that they needed to get him to the hospital. Of course, he argued asking what they would tell them, since they were kind of doing something illegal, and the second guy just said, just tell him you fell on the stairs.

They don't need to know whose stairs. Then I heard them walk back to the living room and out the back door. I sat there for several more minutes just soaking in the hole of, event. I was terrified, absolutely. I was scared witless, but I was also laughing so damn hard. After about five or ten more minutes, I decided that I needed to get downstairs and call the cops, or my parents, or something. I ran to the phone, and there, attached to the counter near it, was a postit that said, if anything happens, call me first, with a number that I assumed was my brother's girlfriend's house.

So I called that just because I didn't really know what else to do. After about ten minutes, David came running in the back door asking me if I was okay and what the hell happened. I told him that two guys had broken in and were looking for him because they, quote, needed something from him. I told him about how the guy started up the stairs but that he tripped and bashed his head on the steps, and then they left. The thing that was weird was that David honestly couldn't figure out who it was,

or why they were there. I know that some people could say that he was probably dealing drugs or owed somebody money, but he really wasn't that kind of person. He did drink when he was a teenager, but he was never really interested in any drugs or anything, so he really could not figure out why they would have been there to try to scare him, or what they were wanting to get. So, this was my creepy home alone story, and yeah, like I said, nothing really happened.

But it certainly scared the hell out of me. I never did get answers about any of this, and we never did tell my parents. David, my brother, passed away in 2023 from an accident at his work, but this was one of those secrets that he and I kept. and after a few years we were able to laugh about the time that some dude broke into our house and probably gave himself a concussion while a 13-year-old me sat in the bathroom less than 10 feet away laughing my ass off the whole time

Hey there, I saw you mentioning some story topics and for once, I think I have a story you can use. I want to start by saying this is a pretty serious topic, so just a warning to anyone listening. But I also want to say that I'm okay and so are my siblings. We're all happy and healthy now, but as young children, things were very, very different at home.

My dad was out of the picture right after my little brother was born. I was six at the time. A few years later, my mom got pregnant again and had my baby sister, and I have no idea who were for. father is. I'm not even sure if my brother and I share a father. But either way, there was no father figure in our life, since I was six, and my brother and sister never even met one. It was just our mother. At the time of the events, I'm going to share with you. I was 12. My brother was six, and our sister was barely two. My mom had always been a little...

off. Paranoid may have been putting it nicely. She hated our neighbors, claiming they were always spying on us, so she always kept the curtains closed. She used to greet my brother and I at the door when we got home from school because she would quickly usher us inside, and then close and lock the doors like someone was going to try to barge in. But then she just slowly got worse. Now, it wasn't just just the neighbors. It was the government, my dad, or sometimes even the mailman if they lingered just a bit too long

at the mailbox that was out to get her. She would make comments about how they all thought they were better than her. It got so bad that she barely worked. I don't know what she did during the day while we were in school because she was typically home by the time we got there, but somehow she had some money.

It was never a lot. I would bet that she didn't have a conventional job, that's for sure. I don't know who would even be hiring her in the condition she was usually in. There was barely any food in the house. The one thing she did do right was whatever paperwork she needed in order for my brother and I to get free lunch and breakfast from school. It was always done. If we didn't eat there, we may not eat all day. I brought home what I didn't eat, or sometimes my two friends would give me what they didn't want.

They didn't know about my home life because I was too embarrassed and scared to tell them. I did, however, tell them that I didn't waste food because that's what my mom taught me, which I guess wasn't a lie. With what little we had, I tried to stretch it, and yes, I mean me. My mom didn't cook. When she did have money, I would have to beg or complain to her that we needed food, especially for my little sister, who couldn't exactly eat all solid foods I had. So she would buy ramen or anything we could make in the microwave. I remember one time she asked me to make spaghetti for her birthday,

one of the few times that she was kind of normal. I barely knew how to cook myself, but I did my breakfast. best with what we had, which was ramen with ketchup and salt. She seemed to like it. I hated it. After my sister choked on a nugget, I brought home from school. I stuck to giving her soft foods like noodles, mashed potatoes, or bottles of milk that I once again brought home from school.

She had a bottle wherever she went, even if it just had water in it. So that was my life. I was the parent more than my mother, and I made sure we were all fed the best I could, bathed, and sometimes I hand-washed our clothes with dish soap or shampoo, whatever we had because the washer stopped working. I only felt bad that my baby sister, Maya, had to stay home with my mom because I had nowhere I could take her. While it was a struggle, it was the only life I knew, so I just lived with it. My mother, however, slowly deteriorated more and more. She ended up covering the windows with whatever she had.

I watched her steal the neighbor's paper next door once. She would use newspapers, random paper or bills we got in the mail. She even nailed the curtains across the kitchen window, so that it couldn't be opened or any chance of looking through it. She muttered about how they don't care about any of us, and they would rather watch us suffer than help. She would get angry and yell about how it was all their fault. I did what I could to ignore it

and keep Maya and my brother Jeff occupied because otherwise, she would go berserk on them if they stared at her too long. Jeff learned it would no longer watch her, but Maya, still a baby wanting that affection and connection from her mother, wouldn't. It only made it harder when she would scream at Maya for staring at her, making her cry. But let's speed this up and get to why I'm actually writing this. We came home from school one day, and after putting all of my weight on the door to get it open, I saw that there was a pile of stuff in front of the door. all debris and broken furniture pieces.

My mom had broken apart the chairs for our kitchen table and the rocking chair. I later saw that she had ripped out boards off the back porch as well and used them to board up all the windows and the back door, leaving us literally one way in and out of the house, which was just the front door. The house was dark with just a few candles lit on the coffee table. I assume that we didn't have power, her again. Maya was sitting on the couch, picking at the pattern that was fraying. I picked her up to

change her as it appeared she hadn't been changed all day. All the while, my mom continued to mumble about everything going to hell. There was nothing left for us. Everything was infected with madness. I just gave Jeff a look of please ignore her, thankful that we understood each other through our facial expressions alone. Jeff took Maya to his room to to play while I did whatever I could for dinner. And that's where we stayed afterward. The three of us, in his room. My mom had started staying in my room

because she had filled her room with garbage and God knows what else, claiming that my dad was still in there spying from under the bed so she didn't like being there. The next morning is when everything went to hell. I woke up a few times to hear her in the kitchen. I kept hearing glass, and silverware clinking.

Like she was mixing something? I figured that she was doing what she normally did, so I just went back to bed. But as we got ready for school, she refused to let us leave. She looked absolutely insane.

She had this wild look in her eyes that I had never seen before. She kept saying that we couldn't go outside because it was too dangerous now, that they were coming to get us today, and that had a plan to keep us safe. That is when she brought out this two-liter Coke bottle that was filled with a cloudy green liquid.

I assumed this was possibly what I heard her mixing that night. She placed three glasses on the table and a bottle. Maya was in her high chair while the rest of us stood, not having any chairs at this point. She poured the liquid into the glasses and bottles and told us in the calmest voice, I had ever heard from her, that we all needed to drink it at the same time, and then we could all go somewhere better together. I immediately did not feel good about this. I could smell the chemicals smell immediately as she poured it.

I was only 12, but I knew this wasn't right. I asked her what it was, and she called it medicine. I asked her what the medicine was for, saying that none of us were sick, but she got defensive. She told me not to question her and that it was going to save us from what was coming. I was terrified, but I had to think fast. I didn't know what this could do to us, but something told me not to drink it. She took a big gulp of her glass and made a pained face as she swallowed. She then motioned for Jeff to drink it.

I told him not to, and I could see the anger growing on her face. I told her that we should go from youngest to oldest, since Maya and Jeff wouldn't be able to help themselves, and that I should be around to help. She stared at me for a while, and I thought she was going to call my bluff, but then she agreed. She told me to help them get settled as she went to the living room,

talking about writing her notes for them to find. Again, Jeff and I locked eyes, and I told him no way are we drinking that. I poured his glass down the sink as my mom shouted, about us all drinking it together in the living room. I was trying to figure out how to mask this weird-looking liquid and make her believe it. I poured out Maya's bottle entirely and just put a smidge on her chin and shirt to make it look like it spilled, and explained to Jeff to just let the remnants touch his lips when he went in there,

to show that he was, or had, drank it. That only left me. I poured some of it out as well, and then we all walked into it. to the living room. As I suspected, she was suspicious of us since there was no bottle, and Jeff was carrying an empty glass. She wanted us to drink it together. Looking at her glass on the table, it was already empty. She took Maya from me and looked over her mouth, and then demanded to smell Jeff's breath. She must have been satisfied because she allowed Jeff to sit on the floor as she continued to squeeze Maya. I still had a glass half full

that she was expecting me to drink. I took a small sip, and it was as awful as it smell. There were curdled bits of what I assume was milk. It was fruity, like Kool-Aid, but there was something else in there, something that was definitely chemical. Something that immediately made my insides feel like they were on fire. And my mom watched me swallow it. I was terrified that if I drank that entire glass,

I was going to die or at least be in serious trouble. I tried to distract her to get her to look away, and thankfully that came when Maya started crying. My mom looked down at her, and then Jeff tried talking to both of them to distract them. As they did this, I quickly poured most of my glass into my lap. I was already sitting by a pile of blankets on the floor, so I just grabbed one to cover my pants up,

and then brought the cup back up to my mouth, as if I was downing the right. rest. When I finished, my mom and Jeff looked back at me and my mom seemed to be satisfied that I had drank the last of it. Maya, however, would not stop crying, probably sensing that something wasn't right, or maybe because she was uncomfortable. I could tell that my mom was squeezing her really tight, and I feared that she was going to suffocate her. I assumed she was doing this because she also looked pain. My mom was sweating and turning pale, and it made me cry,

thinking we all could be sitting here like that if we had drank that stuff with her. With nothing else to do, Jeff and I sat on the floor as we watched my mom squeeze Maya. Maya screamed and cried, and so did we. Then my mom seemed to loosen her grip. She looked at me and said that we were going to be safe now, and then shortly after she began convulsed. sing. Maya fell off the couch and I quickly got up to grab her.

I told Jeff that he needed to go get help and we started to move stuff from the door as I held Maya. We moved enough stuff for him to squeeze through the door and I put Maya down so I could clear the way more. It felt like forever watching that door, looking back at my mom to see if her chest was still moving and trying to keep my sister calm, but finally my brother came back with our next door next door. neighbor. The look on his face as he entered the living room immediately made me feel embarrassed, like the state of our home was my fault. But after he put his fingers to my mom's neck, he asked me what we drank. I told him that I didn't know, but I showed him the glass and the bottle that she poured out of. I'll never forget his face when he sniffed it and immediately

pulled his head back with his eyes wide. The rest happened. so fast that it all just kind of blends together at this point. The neighbor told us an ambulance was on the way and I remember pleading with him to save us. We all went to the hospital and got checked out. I had some other medicine I had to take. I had an IV in and was asked a lot of questions. I remember how scared I was in the hospital, not having my brother and sister near me, asking where they were.

After speaking to a nurse or doctor, a couple came in that I had met a few times before a long time ago. It was my aunt and uncle. My uncle was my dad's brother. They asked me about living with them, and I asked about my siblings, and they said that they would be joining us. I didn't care as long as those two were with me. That same day, another lady showed up that I didn't know when she began asking me a lot of questions about my mom, and our life with her. She asked me how we got to school, how we ate, did our homework, what we did about needing

new clothes or shoes, and the entire time she looked so sad as I told her. I didn't know who she was at the time, but I know that she wrote a lot of stuff down and talked to my aunt and uncle when I wasn't around. That night, at home, was the last time we ever saw our mom. To be honest, I was relieved to hear that she wasn't dead, but I didn't want to see her. From what I understood, what I witnessed, and what she put us through, I was afraid of her. She really tried to kill all of us, and when I was older, I learned that it may have been because of a CPS complaint. They were going to be coming to our house for a welfare check on us, and she thought that was the best ending for us.

The lady that was at the hospital was our caseworker. My dad left, probably seeing how bad she was and not wanting to be a part of it, but he left us with her and never bothered to come back. But apparently the school could tell something wasn't right, and never being able to get a hold of my parents, they reported it. Thankfully, my aunt picked me up from school one time when I got sick and had a fever. My mom, of course, wasn't going to be able to come back. pick me up, and my aunt was listed as an emergency contact. I still have no idea why he would

have done that because I only met him a few times when my dad was still around. If she hadn't been listed, we may have been separated and put into foster homes if they didn't find a relative for us, and thankfully they were willing to take in three kids as well. They already had two. My mom was committed to a state psychiatric facility, and she never asked about us, and we never asked to see her. My aunt and uncle turned out to be amazing guardians, and my cousins were very patient with us, as we took up some of their space, too. I'm 34 now, and as I said in the beginning, I'm doing much better. My sister doesn't really remember much, thankfully, and she calls our aunt and uncle, mom and dad.

I saw my dad once or twice on Christmas, but it was really awkward. He didn't treat us like we were his kids, my brother and I, but more so like we were his nephews. I didn't even call him dad, just Stuart, his name. And no, Maya was not his daughter, so we don't have a clue who her biological father could be. But there's the whole story of how my mom tried to poison and kill her three kids. We made it out, and the bond we have is even stronger.

We're always looking out for each other. I'm just happy that while it was not a good place for any of us in the beginning, that we all came out with the better ending. Even my mom. I was 14 years old when my mom finally left my dad. He was physically and emotionally abusive to both of us, but my mom took most of the attacks. My dad didn't target me until I got to.

a little older and a little more of a voice. He had a strong opinion about me, a stupid young girl trying to tell him, a grown man, what to do. I tried to bite my tongue, knowing my mom would usually pay for it, but I started getting to the point that I couldn't hold back. Thankfully, my aunt finally talked some courage into my mom after he broke her arm and we moved out. We packed up our stuff, everything we could take. that day, and with my aunt and uncle's help, we loaded up their truck and van and left.

My mom filed a protective order, and for once, we could finally breathe. We stayed at my aunt and uncles for a few months until my mom found a nice home for rent for just the two of us. Apparently, she had already looked at a few places, not entirely sure this would work, but then my dad found out which caused the fight where he broke her arm. Anyway, we moved into our new little home, which was definitely smaller than our old one, but it was perfect for us. It was a two-bedroom, one bath, but was pretty up to date. The owner, or landlord, did a great job at keeping up with it, which was nice.

We even met some of our neighbors, including the next-door neighbor, Lee. He was about my mom's age, and he came over and helped us when my uncle brought over a couch, my mom had bought. My mom was no longer wearing a cast, but she did still have a sling, so my uncle was trying to get it himself. Lee was very nice and introduced himself afterwards. He explained that he lived alone, never married, no kids. He seemed like a nice guy.

We went about our normal life, or at least trying to make things as normal as possible. My mom continued to work, but I was, was going to be in a new school district, which was fine. I still had my close friends from my previous school that I kept in touch with by phone and email. I did have my own bedroom that my mom let me decorate however I wanted, and I loved that. I loved that home for us. We could relax there. We could come home, have dinner, talk about our days, and not ever have to worry about doing something wrong.

Even our neighbors talked to us, which was a nice change. But I started to notice something that was a little strange, but I didn't know what to do with it. The houses in our neighborhood are all pretty close to each other, so when I'm walking up our driveway, I could hear Lee's TV, or hear him, talking inside if he had a window open. My room was also on the ground floor, facing out to our driveway. I liked it because when I'm in my room, I can tell when my mom got home. Sometimes I could also see Lee in his window upstairs from my room. If his house was set up like ours, I say this because they looked identical on the outside.

The upstairs was aloft with a walk-in closet, so he would either be in a room or in a closet. I would glance up when I saw movement in the side of my vision and would just see him walking by the window. But there were a few nights that I would wake up and roll over, maybe drink some water, and I would look out my window to see a figure in his window, like he was just standing there, watching. The first time, I thought it was weird but quickly fell back asleep. But then I saw him doing this a few more times. One time I covered myself way up, cracked my eyes open, just a sliver and watched him,

as he stared out the window. I couldn't tell since it was dark where he was looking, but the idea of him looking into my window kind of bothered me, so I closed my curtain. I didn't want to shut it because I liked the night breeze and listening to the crickets chirp. When I went to bed, I just remembered to keep my curtains closed. Then I would see him during the day,

and he was always the same kind and funny man. He asked me about school, when I got off the bus. There were a few times that he even told me my mom would be right back, saying that she had to run an errand, and I thanked him. I just figured he was being friendly with my mom. She had told him where she was going, and he was passing it along. I didn't get any weird vibes from him when I saw him in person.

He was always so gentle and soft-spoken, but I was just weirded out by his nightly routine. Why would he be standing by him? the window, possibly watching me. This went on for months. He was fine during the day. He even came over a few times, helping my mom with car issues or with our toilet one time. My mom even invited him over for dinner once and he grilled for us.

But I couldn't get over the weird watching he did at night. I wanted to ask about it, but I also felt like maybe I was being around. It was his home. I was a kid still, and maybe there was some other reason for it. Maybe he wasn't watching me, but was just looking out the window. So, I never mentioned it. Maybe part of the reason was knowing how my dad would have reacted if I said something like that, making fun of me and such, even though my mom was never like that.

He may have been gone, but that trauma remained. I just did my best to put it out of my mind, knowing that during the day, Lee was a nice guy, and I just kept my curtains closed at night. After a few months there, I had an extended weekend due to a holiday giving us Monday off. After talking with my mom about what I wanted to do for the weekend, she agreed to let me have a friend over, and I invited my friend from my old school, Paige. She'd been my BFF for as long as I could remember, and we only saw each other once since we moved. Before, I would always go to her house, not wanting her around my dad.

She knew all about him, and I didn't want to risk him attacking her, too. Now, I wanted her to be able to go to our home and spend all night in my room doing whatever we wanted. The first time she came over, we were still unpacking and getting settled in. now we were done and could relax the whole time. To make it even better, my mom said that she was invited to a friend's house on Saturday night, but wanted to make sure that we would be okay without her. At the age of 14, we were more than happy to have the house to ourselves. She said that she would be close in case we needed anything,

and even helped order pizza for us, leaving us cash for the tip when they arrived, and then she left. So, there we were, Paige and I alone with no adults, with the freedom to do whatever we wanted that whole night. Not that my mom was ever a problem. Especially after moving, she gave me a lot of freedom, and she treated me as an equal. But it was fun having full rain of the place.

We ate, we tried to make makeshift ice cream by freezing chocolate milk, and then watched whatever we could find on TV. Later that night, we went to my room wanting to do something crafty, so I pulled out my coloring supplies and we lied on my floor drawing and coloring and talking. She told me how school was going and about the people and teachers that I knew, and I told her about my new school. While we were coloring, there was a big breeze that made my curtain move a bit, and it reminded me that the window was still completely open.

I got up to close the window and was really open. relieved to see that Lee was not sitting by the window. Paige asked me why I closed it since it felt nice out, and I finally told her about Lee. She agreed with me that it was definitely creepy, and she suggested that I tell my mom about it. She explained that she should know in case it escalated or in case he was just faking it during the day.

She made good points, and I promised her that I would tell her after she left. But then I also mentioned that, unlike most nights, he was not by the window. Page joked that it was because she was over there, and we just left it at that. And I was thankful that he took the night off when I had my friend over. We continued on with our night until I started hearing a crunching sound by my window. Leaves had started falling, so I assumed that's what I was hearing. but then I had to remember that in order for that sound to happen, someone had to be walking across them.

I stopped doing what I was doing and just looked up at my window and page notice too. She asked me what was wrong and I told her what I heard. We both listened for a moment as we started hearing it again. She looked at me and whispered, where's that coming from? I didn't want to answer her because it sounded like it was right outside my window. That is when I really started to panic. Lee wasn't at his window, and we were now hearing someone at my window, and we were home alone. Two 15-year-old girls.

I made a comment out loud to Paige saying that we should go get a snack, trying to get her to follow along, and she agreed and we went to the kitchen. She asked what we should do and I grabbed the home phone saying that I needed to call my mom. I called her cell phone and she quickly answered and I explained to her that someone was walking around our home. She asked me to explain and I just unloaded on her. I told her about the crunching I was hearing, how I kept seeing Lee at the window and how I thought it must have been him and how creepy it was. She said something to someone in the background while I explained all this to her. She was telling me to call the police and that she was on her way.

As I was hanging up, I heard her say something and assumed it was to me, but I'd already hung up. I picked the phone back up and remembered staring at it for a moment, debating on if I should call her back or just call 911. Page also asked me what we should do. I started dialing my mom's number again when I heard shouting coming from the front of the house. It was clearly two male voices. Then I heard grunts and a lot of shuffling. I was scared, but I also wanted to know what they looked like and if it was leased, so I went to the front door and, I know, stupidly, opened the first door.

We had the main door and a screen door, both of which were locked. I opened the main door, and to my surprise, Lee was standing, holding a baseball bat, ready to swing at the man sitting on the porch with his hands up. The guy sitting on the porch was my dad. I remember just standing by the door terrified and frozen in place. Paige had only seen my dad once and never Lee, so I don't think she recognized either of them. She screamed at me to close the door.

which I did, locking it immediately. Her screaming was enough to snap me out of my stupor, and I called the cops. We both ran to my room where I locked my door and window while I remained on the phone with the operator. We were both terrified at that point in the night, but slowly I became confused, and then accepting. The police finally showed up, and I didn't come out until I heard my mom's voice at the door. The police then talked to all of us, and I explained what I had seen on previous nights, while my mom had a strange look on her face, almost like embarrassment and sadness. I told them I didn't see who was at my window that night, however, and after a lot of talking,

a cop left with my dad in the back, a sight that I'd seen too many times before, and I was surprised to see Lee hugging my mom and her hugging him back. and that's when my mom finally explained it to me. She'd been seeing Lee for almost three months at that point. She had told him all about my dad and how he threatened to, well, end us, if we ever left him. This is why she wanted to move out of the city and out of the school district so he was less likely to find us. After telling him this, he became protective over both of us. Him looking out the window was him watching the front of the house.

He wasn't even looking at my window. He was just as worried for our safety as my mom was. He would watch some nights, a lot of nights, to make sure that no one or someone in particular tried to break in. The night that we were home alone, my mom had gone to his place just next door. I had no idea because I didn't watch her leave. His driveway was on the other side of his house too,

so I wouldn't have seen her only go to his place. I guess she did that instead of walking to make it look like she left. They'd been watching a movie in his living room, which is why he wasn't at his window, when I called her. Lee heard what I said, got up and put his shoes on, and grabbed a bat. My mom was asking him something when I had hung up, which is what I heard. Lee immediately went out his back door so the person didn't see him, and snuck around our home to find the guy. He spotted the man at the front door trying to open it, and that's when he started yelling at him.

He swung the bat at the back of his knees, making him fall, and they started yelling at each other. My mom was in the yard when I opened the door, but I hadn't seen her. From my room, I couldn't hear them talking, but my mom realized that it was my dad, and they started arguing. Thankfully, the police showed up soon after, putting my dad in the back, and my mom came in to get us. She wasn't ready to tell me about her and Lee yet, not knowing how to tell me. Even though my dad was not a good person, she felt bad, thinking that it may have been too soon for her to be dating again. But Lee was a great guy through and through.

I thought that he was creepy, and while it was a little strange, I understood. He was trying to be the protector of both of us, knowing what we had gone through and I kind of felt bad, telling my mom. all that I did on the phone. My dad was obviously arrested and charged with a few things, I think trespassing, violating the restraining order and carrying a weapon with intent to harm. He apparently had a hammer on him. I don't like to think about what his intentions were that night,

and no one seems to know how he found out where we lived. Thankfully, we never saw my dad after that, and Lee actually became a permanent person. part of our lives. No longer was it a secret. He came over for dinner more often than not, and even stayed over quite often. We joked about Lee watching us now, but he also apologized for scaring me prior, saying that he probably should have been more subtle about it.

My mom and Lee actually got married. I learned Lee was previously married and divorced, too, but his was much more amicable. Lee turned out to be a great guy. and an even better father figure than I could have asked for. But those few months in the beginning, it was pretty scary for me. Already cautious about men, thanks to my dad, I was expecting him to be a problem. But, as it turns out, I had tunnel vision, and I didn't realize how much of a blessing he would become

and protect me from the real danger. Hey, Raven, I've got a few stories to share and never really sent them in, anywhere, but I saw your call out for topics and have one scary parents and childhood experience. Perfect. Growing up, I lived in a house for years where everyone thought it was haunted. My parents had a lot of issues, and I could sense the energy. So I think that attracted things. Well, my mom had no interest in it until my dad went homicidal on my family and wanted to,

quote, unalive everyone. Then we moved to North Carolina. I was doing readings, and so my mom got into Voodoo. She showed me the doll she made of my dad and his ex-wife, the black candles, and a couple of books. It's why I believe it exists, because she would pluck my dad's hair, and then I saw a mugshot where he was balding fast.

She threw the woman's doll down the stairs, and not long after she fell and broke her knee and got addicted to pain medication. I'm also sharing the story in hopes that other people don't play around with that stuff. Anyway, I had a feeling that she was bringing something negative in, but one night it was not only confirmed, but why I believe in the paranormal. I had started seeing a woman with long hair in the window.

Only a couple of times, but I convinced myself that I was crazy or tired for her. a while. The house was always cold and my mom's room would just randomly open all the time, only her door. Well, this one night is why I'm convinced of spirits, no matter what other people say. I woke up to my legs literally being dragged down the bed at like two in the morning. It wasn't sleep paralysis. I watched my feet get pulled and saw nothing and nobody in front of me. It felt like arms yanked me down with my eyes wide open. After that, there was a night where the bed was shaking. It wasn't an earthquake or for a few seconds.

But I can't explain it because I've never seen it in another home or after that. I cleansed my room, the house, and haven't felt the same thing. I questioned whether spirits could really touch you or have strength, but I'm fully sure that I wasn't dream. My mom had a history of name-calling, choking, gaslighting often, and I still think that she accidentally invited something in. Any doubt about the paranormal was erased after being pulled across the room in the middle of the night. Hey, Raven. While I'm relatively new to your podcast, I enjoy listening to them at work.

I especially love the paranormal stories, though my life seems to lack those kind of events. Instead, I have a small story about being home alone that, while it ended perfectly fine, could have ended far worse. I grew up in a rather rural town-slash-city in the 90s, the typical safe neighborhood with my best friend down the street, and we'd either be playing at his house, mine, or exploring our block on our bikes without a care in the world. At the time of this story, I was around 11, and my friend, was a year younger. This day, we were at my house in the basement playing video games. At some point, my mom called down to us to let us know that she had to go out to the store

for a few things, and she'd be back in a short while. We did the normal, okay, and thought nothing else of it. Just went back to the game. I don't know how long after it was, when we heard my dog upstairs barking up a storm. This wasn't uncommon, but he was. He'd normally calm down after a few seconds. He didn't. Even after I called up to him, he was insistent.

So, finally, I went upstairs to check out what was going on, my friend right behind me. One important detail about the house. Coming up the stairs, you'd be looking straight at the back doors to the house that connected to a covered but open access carport. There were two doors, a solid wood one in a glass slash mesh. one. Well, as I came up the stairs, I saw that the wooden door was open as it always was on summer days, leaving just the glass one. My dog was in front of the door still barking, and just as I was about to call out to him, I saw on the other side of the door two strange adults

walking by. We froze. For a couple of seconds, we didn't know what to do, but then we dashed to the wooden door, closed it, and locked the deadbolt as fast as we could. After I looked through the people and then saw the same two people walking in the opposite direction, this time leaving the carport. Quickly moving to a window facing the front yard, we closed the curtains, and then peeled out to see a total of five adults, all of different ages, and two of them holding a couple bags of items taken from the carport. We then watched as they walked away.

It was maybe a minute or two later while we were discussing what to do. This was before cell phone, so there was no way to contact my mom, that my mom's car rolled up into the driveway. We immediately went to her and explained what had happened. After that, my mom calmed us down and told us that we did the right thing. And she always made sure to close and lock the wooden door after that when she stepped out. The stuff taken was mostly junk and a lot of empty cans, so the value of it was low, and in the end there really was no damage.

But I still wonder what could have happened if my dog hadn't been barking and caused a fuss at the door. After all, it was just a single pane of glass and some mesh, easy to get through. Would those two people have tried to go inside the house? Would all five? We were two young kids. It's not like we would have been able to do anything to stop them. Oh, and for those wondering, yes, my dog did get lots of praise, pets, and treats that day. He was always a good boy, but that day he wasn't just a good boy, but a great protector.

Hi, Raven, I mainly listen to your glitch episodes. They pair nicely with the true crime and high strangeness podcasts that I listen to in excess. I was listening to Glitch in the Matrix episode 101 when I heard you mentioned the need for childhood scary stories, so here's mine. You're a Spotify listener, I see. Nothing like this has happened to me before this event, and nothing like this has happened since. I grew up on my great-grandmother's property in a small town in northern California. The part of town that I lived in was kind of rural. The property that I lived on covered about four-eighthundred.

acres, and I could see my neighbor's houses through the trees. The land was home to a horse ranch in its prime and a few buildings sat in the center of the land, surrounded by open fields, ponds, and trees. The home that I lived in was the same one that my mother grew up in, and before it was either of our dwellings, it was a stable for the horses that once inhabited the property. Many times in my life, when people have sarcastically asked, What were you raised in a barn? My answer has always been, yes, and I lived above a goat named Bobo. That's beautiful.

All jokes aside, this was a barn slash stable that had its upper level remodeled. Perhaps not all the way up to code. Into a small apartment by my grandfather. And I did live above a goat named Bobo. When I was little, my parents were just beginning to develop their deep Christian beliefs. My mom, a goth girl in the early 90s, had found her faith at a Baptist revival in the deep south shortly before I was born and carried it with us to California.

She was dead set on raising her little girl with the religious guidance that she never had as a child. So my Sundays were always filled with either church or at-home Bible studies. She would never shy away from darker topics, like sin, hell, and damnation. So I was very familiar with the concept of the devil and demons, but incredibly sheltered otherwise. My bedroom in this refurbished barn was pretty small and had a sloping ceiling. In the far right corner of the room, my grandfather had built a two-foot deep closet that met with the slope in the ceiling and attached a dresser of the same depth to the left side of said closet. The back of the dresser was literally attached to the wall.

wall, and its right side was the closet. The dresser did not meet the sloped ceiling like the closet did. It was just a bit under the height of where the wall and ceiling came together, so there was an angled space about one and a half feet tall at its front edge, which was perfect for displaying a few toys, or, in my teenage years, a hamster cage. I think at the time this story takes place, there was a small standing clock housed under a glass dome, among other trinkets that I had decided to display in the awkwardly sized space. One night, when I was about four or five, this is one of my earliest memories, I woke up in the

middle of the night. I don't remember why I woke up. But when I opened my eyes in the darkness, I was facing the wall where my dresser and closet combo stood. There, in the pitch black, in that awkward little space between the top of my dresser and the ceiling were a pair of red eyes in an incredibly faint black silhouette. I could only describe it as angry, glowing red eyes, almost cartoonish. The faint silhouette was reminiscent of the Tasmanian devil from Looney Tunes. It wasn't peeking out from behind the items that I had on top of the dresser. Those things were not even present.

It was just the eyes and the silhouette. I don't remember hearing it make any noise, or seeing it move at all, but as soon as I realized that something was in my room looking at me, I ran to get my parents. I threw their door open and hysterically told them that there was something in my room. They both quickly got up to investigate,

switched the light on in my room, and found, well, nothing. but the items I had displayed on top of the dresser. I stood there in my doorway describing exactly where the eyes had been, and while they may have thought I was crazy, they sat me down and prayed with me to make me feel better. I believe I had trouble falling back asleep, who wouldn't, but was soothed by the idea that they had prayed and, quote,

cast out any demons that were in my room. As I grew older, I would tell this story to my friends when we were she, sharing scary stories at sleepovers or around campfires. Until a few years ago, I could barely squeak out the words, I woke up and there were red eyes in my room, before my eyes welled up with tears and my voice choked out, and an icy fear came over me. I'm now 26,

and it's only been within the last few years that I've been able to discuss this without feeling absolutely terrified. I had to really confront the memory and practice talking about it before I gained control of my physical reaction to telling it. I now have a possibly unhealthy obsession with true crime, the paranormal, and that which cannot be explained. I've heard stories in some of the podcast I've listened to and shows I've watched about red eyes.

They don't really resonate with me if they're described as red orbs or red teeth. dots, because what I saw were very angular, which lead me to describe them as angry. If I'm not actively searching for other people's experiences with similar phenomena, and the story just sneaks up on me and whatever I'm listening to, just hearing the words red eyes makes my eyes start burning with tears, and that familiar choking sensation will take hold of my throat. Even with this visceral reaction, I continue to search for more stories, like mine.

I've allowed this obsession to overtake me many times, searching the internet for hours looking for similar stories or answers, or just something to make me feel like what I saw wasn't impossible. And, to be honest, Raven, that's why I listen to you. I think my best chance of hearing about someone else's experience with the red eyes is from a source like you, where people bring their craziest stories. stories hoping, like me, that someone else might be able to share their own. I wish I had been brave enough to turn the light on myself when I saw these eyes.

I've beaten myself up about that so many times. Was it a demon, an alien, a walker, a being from another dimension? If I had just flipped the light switch on instead of running, maybe I would know what that thing was. maybe there would have been nothing there to see. Maybe I would have more answers. Or, maybe, it was a blessing that I only saw as much as I did. Thank you for your time and for giving us all a place to share our experiences.

Hey there, friends. I hope that you enjoyed this collection of scary stories on this episode of the As the Raven Dreams podcast. If the platform you're on has the option to follow podcast and you enjoyed my work, please do consider doing so. Also, leaving ratings and reviews are super important for the algorithm to support the growth of the podcast. I'm just one guy doing this. I don't have a team. It's literally just me doing everything. So any support like that is greatly appreciated.

Never expected, though. So if you go above and beyond with that, I do appreciate it. Some platforms also allow you to leave. comments, and if you feel inclined to do so, please do. I would appreciate that. I do have a Patreon in a merch store that you can also check out if you want to support a little further. The Patreon 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, ashtheravendreams.com,

where you can check out pretty much everything about me, my social media platforms, fiction 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. Thank you.