As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 206 - Chilling Paranormal Stories & Creepy Encounters

Episode Date: December 26, 2025

Today, on the 206th episode of the As The Raven Dreams podcast, we have 10 True Chilling stories. These stories come from the shadowy corners of reality, where everyday life takes an eerie twist & ordinary people experience the extraordinary. Today we will be diving into some paranormal encounters, and encounters with strangers, stalkers and creeps. Today's episode was partially written by Tom K, Find his other works here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DBVX81W7 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... Carsten, Tim, Jessica, Tom k, Michele ellerby, Macie, Hidden Fox, Caroline M, K. Wilde As Well As Any Author That Has Requested Anonymity. TimeStamps… Ad breaks after Story 1 & Story 4 1 ➤ 2:59 2 ➤ 9:09 3 ➤ 23:34 4 ➤ 30:06 5 ➤ 34:22 6 ➤ 45:18 7 ➤ 1:05:13 8 ➤ 1:07:45 9 ➤ 1:21:28 10 ➤ 1:23:11 ----- 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 #LetsNotMeet Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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depop Minimimimum of 10 dollars. Hello there, friends. I hope you are doing well, as it is the day after Christmas. I'm sure a lot of you are probably tired, doing your best to do nothing if possible. Of course, I know it's not always an option. Some families probably celebrate stuff the day after Christmas and the day before Christmas, or they're all split out. It gets difficult.

Yeah, my family always did Christmas Eve and then the day of Christmas. The stuff at the house was usually done Christmas Eve, and then the day of Christmas was never we went to the family's places, my dad's side. My mom's family lived up north. Granted, mind you, this is where I lived in Kansas, so up north was like North Dakota. And they usually came down and we saw them on Christmas Eve. And like that, Christmas Day was usually my dad's, my paternal side of my family. I'm sure there are families who are stuck having to celebrate Eve, day of, and day after without stopping.

So hopefully you get some reprieve from the holidays today. Hopefully you get some time to yourself. If not, I wish you the best over the weekend. Anyway. Today we have some paranormal and creepy encounter stories, a little basic on the topic. But that's because I didn't want to do another special topic. I don't have another special topic right yet for this one. I wonder if I'm putting this all together.

So, yeah, this is the final news stories episode of the year of 2025, which is crazy. So you may be asking yourself, Raven, do you have anything left for the year? Aren't you going to post again in three days, which would be the 29th? No. Yes and no. I do have something left for the rest of the year, but it's going to be the 28th, 29th. and 30th. Here on the ATRD podcast,

for those of you who are new, I like to do best ofs. So best of the year. So in the 28th, you're going to be doing Best of 2025, Part 1. 29th will be Best of 2025

Part 2, and then the 30th will be Best of 2025 glitch stories. Keep those separated. So, yeah, the best ofs usually end up being a few hours long. So hopefully y'all enjoy that.

You will obviously have heard the stories before if you've been around. But if not, well, they might be new to you. So, yeah. Look forward to those three episodes and then starting at the beginning of the year, probably on the second. We'll be right back to it.

We'll be doing what we do best, my friends. Anyway, hope you all have a fantastic week. I'll see you again with new stuff after the beginning of the year. Hope I see you again here soon. Until then, much love, sleep well, and enjoy. Hi, Raven. First of all, I want to thank you for reading out my story. about my wife using a Ouija board, to be precise, doing Glasioroken, as we call this thing in Germany.

I really appreciate it. It made my day. Thank you for sending it in. I want to share another story with you about a childhood friend of mine. Again, I have to mention that I'm not a native speaker or writer, so I apologize in advance. As I mentioned in the previous story, I grew up in a small town in Germany that has a surrounded by dense forest. You can only imagine what these woods have seen over the centuries. The great barrier between the Roman Empire and the Germanic barbarian tribes, the so-called Limes, isn't far from there.

So it could be true that 2,000 years ago, Roman soldiers wandered through there and then came the Middle Ages. The 30-year-s war, the Napoleonic Wars, World War II, and so on. This town I lived in is in a relatively, old settlement that has probably been around for centuries. No one can tell for sure how old it is since there are no scriptures left from centuries ago, and our Germanic ancestors were illiterate. And since I grew up there, there were these rumors about a certain part of the forest.

You can't quite narrow it down to a specific topic, but the overall narrative is that something is lurking in these woods. The story that I want to tell you must have taken place in the late 90s, when my childhood friend and some other friends went camping in these woods. They were all familiar with the old wives tales, so to say. Now this probably doesn't mean much to you, but it actually tells you a lot about how far off the grid this town must be, if it's possible to just wander off into the woods,

light a fire and camp there, in a highly regulated country like Germany. In most other parts, it wouldn't take long before the police showed up, and this probably would be the case. case today. Anyhow, they were staying in these woods and did what teenagers and young adults do when they're all alone, and these things often circled around the consumption of alcohol and weed. And please keep in mind that in Germany, teenage alcoholism isn't considered a huge issue.

Well, as they were partying, my friends got a bit drunk, but not like totally wasted. He had a good time listening to blasting music and partying with his friends until he felt the urge to pee. So he went up a small path on a hill that's maybe like 20 meters away from the fireplace. He crossed the tree line and went to an open field next to the woods and suddenly stood in the awe-inspiring silence below a star-filled night sky. So it was the perfect place to pee, which he did. And right as he finished,

finished in that very moment, he saw it. A completely black figure floating two meters above the ground with a glowing white face approaching him. At least, he described it that way. It had facial features, but not proportioned like a human being. The proportions were much bigger, with big black eye holes that were the darkest of dark you can imagine. Almost as if you would look into the embodiment of nothing, if that makes sense.

It came close to him, about five meters, not saying anything, but more like it wanted to present itself to my friend. He, of course, was frozen in fear and was, in fact, as it later turned out, already in shock. It remained there for a few seconds until it flew away into the sky at a speed that he described as faster than anything humans have ever built. He remained there for a few moments until he could catch his breath again and was able to move. He stumbled back into the camp with the facial expression that made it instantly clear to anyone that he saw something atrocious. So they paused the music and turned to him.

He was dizzy, mumbled, and stuttered, unable to build a sentence. Then soon afterwards he started shivering and was able to tell the others what he had just experienced. The way he did that and made clear that he was not messing with them. Considering this whole thing, they should have brought him to the hospital, as he was obviously in shock. Instead, every single one of these strong, competent men decided that they would not stay at this place any longer. They packed up their stuff and left. When they brought my friend to his parents' house, he was still visibly shaking because, well, you know, the shock. After that, he had trouble sleeping and going into the dark again, fearing that he would see,

that white face again. Over the years, things became normal again with him and the people around him. Soon the whole thing became sort of a joking matter for us boys, claiming that's insert his name here, just saw someone's white behind or something like that. It's basic psychiatry. We laugh off what we can't explain. For whatever he saw that night, I highly doubt that. that it was just his imagination playing tricks on him.

But what was that thing that he saw in the night? Was it a ghost? Was it an entity that has lingered the earth for aeons and has been forgotten in time? Was it something from another planet? Was it something that we humans don't even have the words to describe? Whenever it was, the white face was never seen again. And it remains a mystery

what it's hiding behind the darkest eye holes that you could think of. It has been far too long, Raven, and I miss you guys. I miss you too, Fox. I finally had time between everything going on in my life to share one of the many crazy stories that happened recently, and this one is from a couple of months ago. I don't know who might be triggered by this story

because it does deal with some racism and what might be considered an attempted kidnapping and or homicide, but rest assured that everyone is okay. I was on my way back, from dropping off a DoorDash order, mainly because I still do deliveries when I want to make some extra cash to pay for equipment or other things. And this time I was actually outdashing for some extra cash to get gifts for my wife's

upcoming birthday. We live in an area that's developing, but still has some rural aspects to it, including a small cluster of little towns that still hold their traditional ways and looks. Without giving out too much detail on where we live, Sometimes there are signs, flags even, that lets you know an area isn't as welcoming as you'd hope. We avoid these places, but apps like DoorDash don't really differentiate an area as being dangerous or risky until enough people in that area mark it as such, or have issues with residents. Well, I ended up in one of these areas, and it was nighttime and raining heavily.

Back roads are often two lanes in dark, except for any illumination, caused by your headlights, but I don't have a problem seeing at night, so I stuck it out to drive as long as I could, despite the rain. I ended up being cut off by a very old Ford pickup truck with a confederate flag on the back of it, which started off behind me a distance and then quickly caught up to me and pulled into the opposite side traffic lane aggressively. The driver blew his horn and sped around my car. I could also see he had someone in his passenger seats, and, and, you know, And at first I thought nothing of it. But they did seem to stay at my left-hand side for a few seconds longer than I liked.

We were approaching a roundabout up ahead, and they of course gunned it to pass me, and went into the roundabout where they circled it twice, and then seemed to go on their way. I forgot all about it and went back to listening to one of Raven's older stories sent in by truckers, because it helps me to stay awake and I'm a fan. A few minutes passed and I realized that I didn't stop for gas like I intended to, and my needle was hovering on E and threatening to ruin my night. So, against better judgment, I pulled into one of the only gas stations I saw within the next 10 miles on the map. I parked at the pump and walked inside the store where I immediately felt something was off as the cashier stared me down. He was an older Caucasian man, handlebar mustache,

American flag bandana on his head. And he didn't seem to like that I walked in. I wasn't sure if he was on the phone or not, but I heard him say something along the lines of, hold on a minute, through a thick southern drawl. And then he went silent. I asked him for gas, told him what Pompey was at,

and he chuckled and shook his head. You don't know where you're at, do you, boy? He asked me. I didn't answer him, but I did. give him a sharp glare back and then scoffed at him and walked toward the door to exit when he decided to add to his statement i didn't say couldn't get gas but i would definitely suggest you hurry up before the wrong party sees it he warned me i turned to look at him visibly irritated by his statement since my tank's basically empty i'll drop 10 for the tank and be on my way

i know the tells of not being welcomed somewhere but i don't have a choice I told him and tossed a crumpled $10 bill on his counter. He didn't say anything to me, and I walked briskly across the parking lot to my car, where I pumped my gas and kept my eyes on the station ahead of me and the road behind me. I didn't like what he said about the wrong party, and I know a minor threat when I hear one,

but I also realized I wasn't currently in a position where an altercation would be ideal. technically even though I had the GPS I was still in the middle of nowhere and had a decent distance to go to get home as soon as I was done pumping and was back inside my car I heard the noisy engine of a truck roar up the road and into the parking lot of the gas station

and it was that same Ford with a Confederate flag on the back and this time I could see it in its full glory red, rusted old truck easily from the 50s with a complimentary Confederate license plate and several stickers on the back. Most of which were images of guns and mantras like Come and Take It. The one that read, if you can read this, you're already dead, actually got to me. And I did start up my engine and begin to pull out of the parking lot as the two men emerged from the driver and passenger seat. I heard one of them yell something that sounded like,

where you going, boy? But I wasn't trying to stick around after that. I got back on the road and continued on my road trip back towards civilization. I don't know how long it was exactly, but I did end up back in an area that I knew, not too far from where I lived, and got a notification from DoorDash that I had an order to pick up from a local barbecue spot. It was for $25, and I hesitated, but if you know anything about dashing, when you have to spend some of your take on fuel, every sizable order after that looks ideal

so you don't go home with less money. So I took the order. I pulled up to the barbecue place, went to the front counter, and avoided really dealing with anyone except the cashier. He was a younger lady with glasses. She informed me that my order was going to be ready in a few minutes and offered me to sit at the bar and wait for it,

so that's what I did. The dining area was semi-empty, with a few people here and there eating or watching one of the many big screens stationed on walls where the patrons could see them. After what felt like forever, the cashier brought me a big brown paper bag with the order that I was supposed to take, and I headed for the front door. It was still raining considerably, but by this point I really didn't care, until I saw that same Ford pickup truck roar into the parking lot.

This time they stayed at the entrance of the parking lot. engine running, and I felt like they were watching me specifically. It only got worse when I got into my car and left, and they followed me. DoorDash does have a service for letting them know when you feel unsafe on an order, but DoorDash's helpline can be unreliable at best whenever you need it. So, instead, I called my wife and let her know what was happening, and I asked her to keep an eye on her Life 360 app, which both of us have, since, we both travel and drive for delivery apps alone sometimes.

I hung up and kept an eye on my rearview mirror the entire time I navigated to the next stop, which took me a little out of the way from where I'd go to get home, but now I had another issue. They followed me up until I took a turn and entered a neighborhood to deliver the food, and then they drove off straight ahead. I thought I wasn't sure if I was out of the woods at this point, but just as a note for any listeners, my wife and I have talked about crazy situations and plans to deal with them.

So we stayed prepared as much as we can. Our cars have dash cams, and we actually wear our own body cams when we drive, just as added evidence and security. We also have small backpacks we call fox packs, which are filled with supplies like flashlights, portable chargers, walkie-talkies, small toolkits, med kits, and yes, a few simple weapons of choice.

We keep these items with us during our drives, just in case anything should happen. My wife actually has two different bags because she also rides a motorcycle, but I digress. As I exited the neighborhood, once I dropped off the food, I saw that the truck was actually waiting for me,

and as soon as I turned right to get back on to the main road, they were right behind me again. At this point, I knew that. that I had enough evidence and confirmation that these guys were following me, so I actually did call 911. I told the dispatch my name, where I was currently heading, and that I was currently being followed by two guys in a truck with a gigantic Confederate flag on the back of it, and a brief description of the vehicle, driver, and passenger. They told me to stay on the line, and that where I was currently headed would intersect with patrols from the local town's police.

dispatch asked me if they were driving aggressively or using their vehicle to strike my own, and I told them that thus far they hadn't, but that they were bringing their truck all the way up to the rear of my car, which would make it impossible for me to slow down if I needed to. And I mentioned that I did have a dual-facing dash cam and recorded some of the activities of the night on it. Dispatch told me that officers were headed to my location, and were going to intercept the vehicle that was tailing me in a field, moments. And all I could do was keep on driving down the dark, rainy, two-lane road until help

arrived. I could hear the men whooping and saying indistinct things as they played this game, but all I could think was that they had no idea what was coming their way. In the distance, I did see headlights approaching quickly, and dispatch told me that an officer confirmed that he saw my car in the truck tailing me. The officer hit a sharp U-turn and flipped his lights on, which, I guess, spooked the two men in the truck, because they sped around me and took off down the road. But for some reason, the officer pulled up behind me and ordered me to pull over.

He was from a small county in the area, and apparently he wanted to ask me questions about what happened, even though I told dispatch everything I could. So I cooperated. and even threw in that I had dash cam footage rolling the entire time and caught most of the action. The officer told me that we would get to that, and started asking me what I was doing out here at this time of night, where I lived and such. And before anyone says it, yes, I used to train police officers and I understand there's a whole argument on what you should and shouldn't do, but in this situation, I kept my cameras going and took note that the officer let the two men escape.

He took down my statement and information and said that their precinct would look into the situation, which I didn't believe. And I did ask the officer why he didn't pursue the men when he initiated a traffic stop and they fled. Look at who's using the big words was all he had to say to me about that. He told me that his precinct had enough evidence to look into the pickup truck, including their license plate, and that they would handle it from there. He said they didn't need my dash cam footage, and even though he took down a statement from me, he didn't give me a card to confirm that there was an open case on the situation.

I asked him about that, and he said that not every police station handles things the same way. Then told me that if they had any questions, they would give me a call. I insisted that something was off, and he told me flat to my face, don't go play in the hero or trying to make this a big issue. Be a good boy and stay out of trouble. trouble. When I tell you that my blood ran hot, that is an understatement. My wife was calling me at that point, so I did answer the phone, and the officer went back to his cruiser and left. As he passed, I saw him answering his personal phone with a grin

on his face, and he sped off down the road. I told my wife what happened, and after a few minutes of literally fuming in anger, I went ahead and drove home. home. This is where my story ends, but just a heads up, there was a story that recently popped up in the local community group in our area about how apparently a man was found dead at the park on the 4th of July, and that the police were keeping the story out of the local news because they didn't want to cause a panic. Witnesses who found him reported seeing an old red pickup truck leaving that park in a hurry,

but no one has been arrested nor identified. One of the shared photos circulating in the group was taken from a few yards away from the park, which was roped off by local police. In it, you see several officers, and the man that pulled me over that night standing right next to the mayor. I wanted to share the videos from my dash cam and body cam I have, but my wife said it's not a good idea because that officer purposefully let those men go, and got my information because I called the police on them. If I were to leak the footage, we believed it would have turned into a more severe situation. People can say what they wish, but the truth is, you don't know what you would do in a situation like that. And since these men aren't identified and apparently the police don't care to stop them, it's an unfair advantage.

We just won't be taking any more door-dash orders in this area and steering clear of dashing at night. A while back, I gave you my story about a girl in high school that nobody seems to remember but me. You used the story in one of your postings on YouTube, so I thank you for that. There's something else about me that I would like to share with you. I'm 52 years old now, soon to be 53. I'm too old to care what people think about me, so I'll be honest about this, as I have kept these experiences very secret in my life, until now. I haven't even spoke about much of this to my closest friend.

I have the ability to sense energy both from the living and the dead. I can tell whether I'm going to like a person or not immediately as soon as I meet them, simply because of the energy they give off. This ability seems to affect my mother's side of the family. My mother's twin sister wrote a letter to my mother's twin sister wrote a letter to my mother when I was a child, admitting to her that she could see dead people around her, people that were deceased. It all started when my aunt was a little girl. She said when she came home from school, she looked on the roof of her house and saw a man standing on the roof. She asked the man,

what are you doing on the roof of my house? The man folded his arm and said something to her telepathically and then vanished. That ability seemed to have skipped my mother and his it me. Although my ability is not as strong as my aunts was, as I cannot see spirits. But I can tell when they're around. It started on me when I was seven years old. I was at my grandparents' house on Christmas Day. We opened up presents and my grandparents were preparing Christmas dinner. Being the seven-year-old child that I am at that time, I told my dad that I was going upstairs to use the bathroom. When I went upstairs, after using the restroom, I went to open the bathroom door.

I got the door open no more than a quarter of the way, when the door slammed right in my face. I tried to open the door, but there was a disembodied female voice on the other side. She kept saying to me, no, Tim, no, Tim. Finally, I screamed so loud for help that somebody came upstairs and I was able to open the door. I ran out asking who was that woman behind the door. She wouldn't let me out. But my relatives insisted that there was nobody upstairs. I didn't know what to think about it.

My grandparents lived in the Sheet and Tube Company homes in Campbell, Ohio at the time. Those company homes were built in a very early 1900s. Some of them have been torn down, but there's still a few of them left, and they're over a hundred years old. The people that still live in them have told me that they have experienced things in those places that cannot easily be explained. Finally, the last incident that happened to me, I'll explain to you. Fast forward to when I was 14 years old. Then, I was living on the east side of Youngston, Ohio, at the time, near Lincoln Park.

Unfortunately, the only other guy to verify this story no longer lives around me as him and his family moving. to Arizona when I was 14 years old. This friend was named Joey, and he had a sister named Diana. So if Joey happened to hear this story on YouTube, that I haven't seen him since I was 14, I would just like to say hello to him. The story that he would be able to verify is as follows. It was a summer day, and me and Joey were down at Lincoln Park, swinging on the swings, talking about kid stuff and minding our own business.

All of a sudden a very terrible negative energy came over me, to the point that I got sick to my stomach and wanted to vomit. I told Joey I didn't feel good and wanted to go home. He told me that he didn't feel good either. Strange that we both felt the same thing at the same time. There's a set of steps just behind the security park office that leads up out of the park. The closer I got to that steps, the sicker I got to my stomach. I tried to drink a sip of water from the water fountain,

but I just spit it right back up, as did Joey. Then, out of nowhere, I heard a disembodied voice that said, Get out of here. I asked Joey if he heard that. Instead, he told me that he thought he heard someone say, Quiet, I want to get them. I whispered to Joey, let's get out of here. and run through the woods out of the park.

We ran through the woods up to the back road out of the park that led up to the 422 Highway and Youngston, Ohio. As we went over the bridge, which is above Lincoln Park, my stomach started to calm down and I felt better. But here's the scary part. Right after we got to the other side of the bridge on the left-hand side, there's a fire station there. As we walked past it,

A station wagon pulled up alongside us, and the guy inside the car said, You smart-ass kids, I'll get you next time. Me and Joey looked at each other and we couldn't believe what we had just heard. That guy was trying to kidnap both of us. We went home and told our parents about it, but I don't remember if they ever called the police or not. I don't know where that disembodied voice came from, but it saved my life, and Joey's as well. Throughout my life, I've had many other experiences with spirits, but I won't go into those right now. But these experiences have affected me throughout my life.

As a Christian, I do believe that there are both good spirits and evil spirits around us all the time. And the kind of person we are in ourselves is what we invite around us. Because of that, I choose to love people as much as I can, to bring about the positive things around me. Hi, Raven. I really enjoy listening to your stories, so I thought I would submit one of my own. Growing up, I lived in an odd-feeling house with my mom, dad, and brother. Things regularly went missing and turned up in odd places.

Mostly, it just felt like you were being watched, but it was the overall heavy feeling of the place that lent to our belief that someone was there. However, there weren't very many concrete experiences to use as an example. Just weird vibes and some odd things going on. Well, one night it all changed suddenly. It was New Year's Eve sometime around mid-2000s. Well, technically New Year's Day since it was about 2 a.m. We had been to a small party with my immediate family and my brother's girlfriend.

We returned home early. my dad and my brother had been arguing that night, so emotions were heightened. Everyone was already on edge, but no one had been drinking. My mom, my brother's girlfriend and I were standing in the kitchen having a light-hearted discussion about the supernatural, to break up the tension from earlier. My dad and brother were outside during this whole exchange. Anyways, eventually the discussion veered to our house in question, about how someone else was in the house, how we could feel him at times.

The girlfriend said that she never had a supernatural experience but was terrified of the idea of it happening. We admitted that things were quiet here, but we definitely weren't alone. She said, talking about this kind of freaks me out. And my mom and I both assured her it was okay. Nothing bad would happen, that the spirit just liked to hang around us, and then it happened. The kitchen's kind of circular, and there were three of us standing about five feet from one another in a triangle.

On the counter, about two feet from me, an empty plastic bottle that was sitting about six inches from the edge of the counter suddenly fell off the counter. It didn't just flop onto the ground, no, it jumped and spiraled in the air like someone whacked it hard, and it flew onto the floor in between the three of us. as if the spirit was saying, ha ha, yeah, I'm here.

We just looked at each other in shock. I asked them the typical, you saw that, right? The girlfriend just nodded absolutely terrified, and my mom said, yep, guess he wanted us to see that. It was crazy. After years of feeling weird in the house,

all of a sudden there was an overt experience with a witness as well. No one else was. in the house but the three of us. There was nothing else on the counter either, nor could someone have possibly orchestrated the bottle falling. It just flew off the counter on its own, right in the middle of our discussion about said ghost in the house.

It was bizarre. Things don't fly off counters, but after years of living there and years of feeling like being watched, we finally had something happened to confirm these feelings. Anyway, as the years went on, things kept happening in the house, but as always they were small, nearly inconsequential. But that heavy feeling of being watched continued. Things stopped going missing, thankfully. Honestly, at most times it felt okay.

Like whomever was there wanted us to know for sure they were there, and that they were as used to us as we were of them. Most paranormal experiences seem to be intimidating or aggressive, but somehow, ours ended up just being like a pal, like a roommate who never left and apparently only made themselves known to make a point at the most opportune moments. Anyway, thank you for letting me share my odd little experience. So today, I'm going to look into one of the most shocking and brutal serial killers in modern times. The things he did rocked an entire nation in the wake of a very difficult time in the entire region. When these crimes began to take place, the Arab Spring was just starting to wind down and de-escalate. So all the people of Cairo were used to petty street crimes, theft, harassment, scams, and cons, or even a certain level of political violence and unrest,

when this serial killer struck, it blew everyone's minds. The police at the time were especially concerned with, the image of being orderly and well in control of public safety. After the craziness during the Arab Spring, they very much needed to protect that image. So in 2017, when they discovered evidence of incredibly shocking crimes, after some inconsistent statements in relation to missing persons cases, the police finally searched the home of one Radi Mohamed Abdel Rahman and found human remains buried both under the floors and in his yard.

In some cases, for years, families of these missing people had been pushing for justice, looking for answers. The discovery of the crimes wasn't exactly amazing police work, or as a result of any kind of intensive investigations. Once he was arrested, Roddy confessed to a number of murders. While there's heavy suspicion that he was guilty of other disappearances and subsequently other murders, he was only ever convicted of four. Although, regardless of how many he was convicted of, it was definitely enough because in 2019 he was convicted of four murders and sentenced to death. Roddy tried to appeal the sentence, but it was upheld in court.

And in 2021, the butcher of Giza was executed by hanging in a prison in Giza. Now, just what were the crimes that earned a man a date with the gallows? well, they were pretty horrific. The crimes themselves were brutal, but perhaps the most disturbing thing is how Roddy dealt with his crimes in the aftermath. He literally managed to continue living a seemingly normal life while at the same time living amongst the remains of his victims. Some of them buried right underneath the floor he walked on.

The crimes themselves took place over about two years starting in 2015. The Butcher of Gaza's first victim was one of his own childhood friends. Whereas the majority of Roddy's victims were women that were attached to him through promises of marriage or financial stability, Rita was a longtime friend. Their relationship was based on financial matters and mutual trust. While Rita's family didn't approve of his friendship with Roddy, who they felt took advantage of Rita's generosity, and generous as what Rita was,

especially with people close to him, oftentimes lending his friends large sums of money. I will take a beat here to say that a lot of the more personal details of the victims have not been reported to the Egyptian media. Only the first names of the victims are given, so sadly I do not know Rita's family name or any of the victims that came after him.

Although, I think maybe that's the most dignified way to present the case. For a long time, Rita's friendship with Roddy was fairly stable. As I said, it was built upon a mutual kind of trust between the longtime friends. However, in 2015, Rita would make what turned out to be a fatal mistake. He confronted Roddy about repayment. He was pressuring Roddy to at least make a show of good faith.

Instead, what happened was that Roddy would lure his friend into a situation under the promise of settling accounts. Rita arrived at his friend's apartment expecting recompense. What he received was a violent blow to the back of his head, according to most reports. Other reports suggest possible strangulation was involved, but the dominant narrative is blunt force. What is usually agreed upon is that it was a very violent death directly tied to a financial dispute. When the butcher of Giza went to remove his first victim, it was a bit different. to later crimes, as he didn't bury his friend under the floorboards or even on his property. Rita was buried on a different property.

For years when he was confronted about Rita's disappearance, Roddy would just state that Rita had left the country or had just disappeared. He was hopeful that this kind of narrative would curb any future inquiries. It was the opposite that occurred, though, as Rita's family would continually hound the police about the disappearance for years after. after. One of the earliest victims that was traced directly to the butcher of Giza, Noal's case is a bit unique among the butcher's victims.

Noal was more intimately connected to the killer. Noal was a woman in her 40s that had actually been in a pretty serious relationship with Roddy. However, once Noal began to press him on marriage, wanting to cement their relationship in a more permanent way, well, that was her fatal mistake. In 2015, No-Wal was lured to Roddy's apartment. Once she was there, the butcher attacked her. According to the report, she was struck in the head. The truly tragic part is what came after.

Once No-Wal was dead, the butcher buried her under the floor of his apartment, where her body would remain for two years. In the aftermath of No-Wal's disappearance, Roddy maintained that she had left the country to find work abroad. In Egypt, were people migrating to find work. in other countries as commonplace to most people, this sounded completely plausible. Nowal's family, however, was never convinced by his story, and much like Rita's family, Noal's family continued to pressure the police to keep investigating.

Fatten was a kind-hearted young woman from Giza, who would also most unfortunately fall into the orbit around the butcher. She became friends with Roddy and became a confidant and good friend to the butcher. Much like Rita, Faton was very trusting of the people close to her, and had the utmost faith in them. Unlike Nowal, Fatan's connection to Roddy wasn't romantic. In fact, it was a completely platonic relationship that was based on trust and closeness. Faton often went to Roddy for advice or to confide in him. The fact that they were so close, and that there was so much trust between them made what happened to Fatten,

all the more terrible and completely sinister. The butcher would ultimately lead her to one of the properties he was using. Once Fetan arrived, he again struck her in the head with the blunt object, and then he would conceal her body in the same building where Noal was buried. Of course, Fetan's family found her sudden disappearance both inexplicable and very shocking. Radi, however, was able to pretty successfully keep up the ruse of being her trusted friend, etc. Fetan's family wouldn't learn of her true fate for two years, when her remains were found at the same time as Nawal's.

The final person that the butcher was convicted of killing was Yasmin, a 20-year-old woman from Giza. She was the youngest of his victims. Yasmin was working at a clothing store at the time of her death. Family and friends say that she was ambitious and had high hopes for a more stable future, and she was willing to put in the hard work to get there. Unlike Rita, Nowal or Fattain, Yasmin wasn't bound to Roddy by some kind of long intimate history,

but she was friendly enough with him that she made the fatal mistake of trusting him. There are some conflicting reports as to just how he managed to lure her into his web. Some say he had told her that he could or was going to arrange a job for her. Others say he was trying to propose marriage, and yet others say that he was offering her the prospect of some kind of new start. Whatever carrot he dangled in front of her, he unfortunately got exactly what he wanted. It was in 2017 when Yasmin, the last confirmed victim of the butcher of Giza, disappeared. Much as with Nual or Fatten, he lured her to his Giza apartment and killed her with a blunt force strike to her head.

That pattern always remained consistent among the confirmed victims of Roddy. After she was dead, she too joined Nual and Fatten under the tiled floor of the apartment. As with the other three, Roddy tried to spin a story that Yasmin had left the country to begin fresh somewhere far away. Yasmin's family was never even remotely trusting of his story. It would be completely out of character for the young woman to do something like that. Ultimately, it was the disappearance of Yasmin and the relentless urging of her family to investigate further that would ultimately lead to Roddy's discovery and arrest. For some of the families, they were for the first time learning just,

what had happened after years of not knowing. Each one of these deaths is tragic and completely pointless. There was nothing to be gained by any of them, really. I think in the case of Rita, the killing was less about the money, and almost certainly an impulsive decision by Roddy. That's all Tom Kay's personal speculation. In most cases like this, there has been something brewing beneath the surface for a long time, and then a catalyzing event,

will happen, and that's when they explode and do something such as cracking a trusted friend in the head with the blunt object. Again, I can't say for certain that is the case. That's just the general pattern of these kinds of stories. So, there it is, the story of Rita, Nool, Fetan, and Yasmin. Four human beings with loved ones and dreams of a better future robbed of everything by one incredibly disturbed and selfish man, the butcher of Giza. But I'm not going to let him have the last word here, so thank you for taking the time to listen,

and thank you as always to my dear friend Raven. Much love to you all. Dear as the Raven Dreams, this is a true horror story that involves child abuse and very adult situations. So please note that the... this story is really for people 18 years and over. If listeners do not want to listen to a story like this, we suggest they skip over this one. Thank you. Consider that your content or trigger warning for this story, child abuse and adult situations,

and from what I've read, some situations of violence as well. So just a note. My name is Carolyn, and I will not use anybody's real last name in my story for privacy reasons, except Father Flanagan, who was the pastor of my church. The story all happened in a small town of West Virginia when I was 10 years old in 1972. In 1972, Richard Nixon was the 37th president of the United States with Spiro Agnew as his vice president. My father was a businessman in West Virginia, and he made a good living for my mother and I. I was the only child and had no siblings.

My father was into coal and energy sources in West Virginia, which still had a good coal industry in the 1970s that still exists today. But today it can't be just coal. It has to be other energy sources, too. The West Virginia coal mines in Appalachia were just up the mountains from where we lived. You could smell the coal in the air, especially when it was breezy. I loved living in West Virginia. We had a good sense of community, and I had a lot of friends to play with.

On Sunday, my family, along with many other families, went to church where Father Homer Flanagan was the pastor. Father Flanagan was a nice and calm-speaking man who looked a hundred years old to me at the time, because I was only a child, but was 50 years old in real life. He was around six foot tall with a bald head wearing round glasses, on a thin build. Under Father Flanagan, we enjoyed church functions like annual summer picnics, church donations for the needy and outside baptisms.

I especially enjoyed the church picnic where I played with friends, and there was an abundance of good food to eat. Father Flanagan even took some kids up a ride in his back of his old Model T pickup truck on these functions, putting hay in the back of the truck, making it more fun. Father Flanagan was a widower.

His wife died a few years before. His home was right behind the church, which was a nice, brown-and-color, country-style home built in the 1920s with a white picket fence surrounding the property, and a nicely moat lawn. He also had well-manacred bushes in a nice garden. Father Flanagan sometimes invited my family for supper on Sundays, where we would have chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, rice, gravy, corn on the cob with lemonade on the side.

He often made a delicious dessert of pumpkin pie, lemon pie, apple pie, or chocolate cake waiting for us after our meal. Father Flanagan was a good cook. I also liked all the old photographs he had around the house of his parents and grandparents. I especially liked the big picture of him and his wife with his wife sitting outside of their home on a chair, and him standing proudly beside her. Both dressed in their Sunday best. The picture must have been taken in the 1940s when he and his wife were very young. Next to the big picture, sitting on the table,

was an old Vitafone record player that still played records. Remember that this was the early 70s before the computer age, so no computer cell phones are answering machines at this time. All was going well in my life. life in West Virginia, until it didn't. It all started innocently enough when Father Flanagan saw me playing outside alone one weekend and asked me if I would like to help him with his garden since I liked gardens so much. I readily agreed.

I did love beautiful gardens, and I loved to help my mother do hers often. Father Flanagan's garden was indeed beautiful. It had beautiful insects, like a... a couple of monarch butterflies and bumblebees flying around them. After I finished helping Father Flanagan in his garden, he asked me if I wanted to come inside his house for a little dessert treat before I went home. I readily agreed. I knew Father Flanagan was a great cook like my mom and had something good for me to eat inside of his house.

At first, though, I washed my hands before I sat down in anticipation on what he was going to serve me. It almost felt like the female version of Charlie of the Chocolate Factory, because there were so many good homemade things to eat at Father Flanagan's house. But would unfortunately find out soon that appearances can be deceiving, even deadly. When I sat down in the chair, I spotted a delicious-looking pecan pie, but it only had two pieces of it left, so I thought, better let Father Flanagan finish it. I also saw some very tasty-looking chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies and a glass-covered plate. Behave, Carolyn, don't be too greedy for the scrumptious delights, I thought secretly to myself.

As I looked at Father Flanagan in anticipation on what he would serve me, he then said, How about a nice ice cream cone, little Missy? It's hot and you look like you could use one. He said this to me with a smile. This was in the month of May, and the day was hot. That sounds great. I replied, gushing excitedly.

What flavors do you have? Well, let's see. Vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. He replied beaming at me. I'll have chocolate. That's my favorite. Father Flanagan looked at me happily as he began making my ice cream quickly. Coming right up, he replied.

When Father Flanagan gave me my ice cream cone, he had put an assortment of ice cream sprinkles on it that I loved as I started to eat it. When I was eating the ice cream, Father Flanagan surprised and embarrassed me and telling me what a pretty little girl he thought I was. He loved my golden mane of hair and ocean blue eyes. He also went on to say that my body had blossomed very well for my age group, much more so than the other girls in church, that he also liked all the pretty dresses that I wore.

I looked up at Father Flanagan smiling at first, trying to be polite. When my focus all of a sudden started to get blurry, and my head started to spin. I felt a bit sick to my stomach. The chocolate ice cream still tasted delicious, but yet, underneath it all, it had a sour taste. Father Flanagan must have put something in it. Must have spiked it. I thought to myself. And I suddenly passed out.

right at the table. The next time I woke up, I was in a nice pink little girl's bedroom, under the covers with no clothes on, with a big teddy bear and a big doll on the bed beside me. On the table next to the bed, there was a toy pink phone. There was also a big swing hanging from the ceiling, even a carnival-like mini popcorn machine maker. The room looked like a child's fantasy room.

I then looked up at Father Flanagan, himself smiling and standing over me. Where am I? I said to him, startled. Father Flanagan told me I was in a bedroom that he had made just for me to play and sleep when I came to visit him. He assured me that there was no need to be afraid and that he was just washing my clothes in the laundry that were dirty from gardening, and that I would get them back soon. He also told me that he called my parents about all this. I put you in bed because you needed a little sleep as all. You still look tired from gardening.

I'll turn off the lights for a few more hours so you can sleep, and then I'll bring you back your clothes and you can leave. He said to me smiling. I nodded my head weakly. I was still tired and needed more sleep, but it did seem like something funny was in that chocolate ice cream that he had served me to cause me to be like this. Father Flanagan turned off the lights and left the room.

But two minutes later, I heard the door creak open again and was surprised and shocked that Father Flanagan started getting into bed next to me. And even more shocked that he was naked with himself fully there. It was darkened in the room, but I could still see well enough. Carolyn, you're such a pretty girl. I've had my eyes on you for quite a while now. After tonight, you won't be a girl, but a woman, he said seriously. You might want to hold your teddy bear doll tight for a moment. It'll only hurt for a minute, he said.

As soon as he said this, I hugged my big teddy bear tight and gritted my teeth as, well, you know what happened next. And you know how severe this was as I was still a child. But I didn't know all this at the time. After this, Father Flanagan cleaned me up as I went back to sleep. After a few hours, Father Flanagan came back with my clothes. While I was putting them back on, he had me do a pinky promise that I would never tell my parents what had happened here. He also told me that this playroom was mine, and I could come any time to play there when I wanted to.

I nodded my head and started to smile since the child's bedroom and playroom did look inviting, and it did seem like something I'd want to come and play in. As a child, I did what Father Flanagan promised, and I didn't tell my parents about the assault. I was a child, and I didn't know any better. Like I said before, the playroom looked so inviting with the swing and the stuffed teddy bears and dolls. I actually did go back.

Father Flanagan often took photos of me with his, camera playing with the teddy bears, the dolls, on the swing and phone, and he even got me to pose without clothes for him on occasion, too. He kept telling me that I was so grown up now, so this wouldn't be a problem anymore, if I posed for him like this from time to time. He also got me some new toys in various colors of pretty dresses, including a sailor suit dress that I loved. How could a little girl say no to all this? As I posed in the child bedroom and playroom in front of a big mirror in the clothes he bought for me, and all of this I see now was just more handy to keep me as his little plaything in his secret bedroom.

This is all very sad, looking back at it. I was just a scared little 10-year-old girl trying way too hard to be an adult for an adult man that was far too old for me. This was child endangerment. It was against the law for me as a child to be with an adult man like this in the first place. But again, I didn't really know any better then. There was one thing that I discovered under the rug by accident when I was playing alone in the bedroom for a while. Under the rug was a medium-sized hatch, a floor doorway. I knew the father would leave me alone to play for at least 30 more minutes, so I decided to go through this hatch and down the darkened steps.

and when I turned on the lights, I saw something that chilled me to the bone. There were old photographs on a table of little girls my age from probably the early 40s to 1972. And the last photo was myself, Carolyn, smiling that he took of me recently and framed. I felt like screaming in absolute terror and shock when I saw this. What's more above the smiling child table. photos were undressed females posing sexually. No doubt for Father Flanagan.

Some photos were in black and white and some were in color. The oldest ones went back to the early 1940s, and that wasn't all that I saw. On the side of the table, there were some old and crinkly newspaper articles of some girls found dead and strangled in the woods of West Virginia, nude, with their bodies violated. articles again from the 1940s to the 1970s. I took a moment to look at all the pictures and the old articles of the girls, and a big chill went up my spine. Again, I felt like screaming my lungs out, but I held it all inside. My thoughts about Father Flanagan were correct.

Father Flanagan was a petto, and now I was finding out a murderer for years also. I surely was not the only female child that the pastor had assaulted in this small West Virginia town. He'd obviously done this for many, many years now and had never been caught. Never been discovered, maybe. Possibly his deceased wife may have known but didn't let in on the church community since this was a close and tight-knit West Virginia small town. And often back then, good church-going ladies often kept their mouth shut.

especially with matters involving men. Many small towns do have their terrible secrets. Maybe quiet whispers scattered about by some townspeople, but most kept their mouth shut. After seeing all this and after the assaults, despite enjoying my big bedroom playroom, I'd had enough. I had to tell my parents about the evils of Father Flanagan and quickly before I threw up all over the floor and disgust.

This was truly frightening and sickening, especially for a young child such as I at the time. I had just made it up the old stairs, closed the floor door, and put the rug over it just in time, before Flanagan came through the door. He didn't even knock, just came in smiling devilishly.

At first I thought he might violate me again, but he said it was time for me to go home, or my parents would ask a lot of questions on where I was. He offered me a ride home, but I decided to walk home since it was close enough, with walking distance away. On my way home, though walking down a path, I stopped to sit down and I cried. I had to let it all out.

One of my male friends, whose name was Timmy, was a few years older than I was, he was in eighth grade. He was a well-built and muscular kid, and he saw me crying and said, sat down next to me as I told him what had happened. Timmy was a nice guy, but he did have a bit of a temper that showed itself sometimes. But he was also the sort of guy who would fight for you if you were his friend. He always had your back. Timmy told me to go home and that he would take care of everything because his father was a policeman.

Looking back at this, I should have told my parents first. Making it worse, I let my friend Timmy, who was a kid himself, try to handle a huge problem such as this. When I got home, I told my parents everything that had happened, and Timmy's father, who was a policeman, would handle the matter. The bad thing that happened, though, two days later, I heard that Father Flanagan was actually found dead in his own bed with his neck broken. His eyes and mouth were wide open. My father asked questions around town on what happened to the pastor and who killed him, since Timmy and his dad couldn't be found at the time. One townsperson told him that it was Timmy,

my friend who had murdered Father Flanagan and broke his neck with his strong bare hands because of what had happened to me, and the other girls that Flanagan had abused and murdered. Timmy's father was a policeman, who protected him for being prosecuted for murder, and the whole thing was eventually pushed under the rug. No prosecution or prison time at all for Timmy, nothing. My family and a few townspeople were the only ones who ever knew about who killed Father Flanagan.

In fact, most of the townspeople thought that the murderer might have been a hobo from a train, or someone asking Father Flanagan for money and they broke into his home and killed him, because Father Flanagan was hesitant to let them in. Once again, most townsfolk did not even know it was their own townsfolk Timmy who did it, because Timmy was nice to everybody, the type of kid to cut your grass in the spring and summer and shovel your snow in winter or paint your fence for you. Nobody would have suspected that he was ever part of any murder, but tragically he was. Timmy and his father, the policeman, just acted regular around town like it was tragic,

that they were not part of Father Flanagan's death. About a year later, I guess to further protect his son, Timmy's family moved out of West Virginia for parts unknown, and I never saw Timmy again. I did want Timmy's help, but not like that. Timmy's temper caused him to make rash decisions. He didn't even tell his dad the cop that Flanagan was a petto, and a murderer,

until Timmy had already taken him out. I wish that Timmy hadn't lost his head and decided to kill Father Flanagan himself. Just have his dad arrest Flanagan and let the courts deal with it. I think Timmy's dad probably wished this also. I think Timmy decided to murder him knowing his father's being a cop would protect him from going to prison, and he was right, especially in small town West Virginia such as this. I guess Timmy wrongly thought that it was right to take matters into his own hands and do away with Father Flanagan himself in a small town justice kind of thing. One thing that I was happy about, though, Flanagan could no longer harm or murder a little kid again.

This all happened a long time ago, in a small town in West Virginia. As for me, I'm now a happy grandmother and I no longer live in that small town West Virginia. and thank you for listening to my story. Hi, Raven. These two stories happened within a few weeks of us moving into our first house in Derbyshire, UK. The house was about 80 years old. I'd gotten home from work and went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, and there on the worktop was a small brass weight,

the kind people used on those old-fashioned weighing scales. I picked it up thinking my partner, Jonathan, must have found, found it and left it there that morning. As I had gone to work before him, so I wouldn't have been aware if so. So I made my tea and then Jonathan arrived home. I showed him the wait and asked where he had found it. He looked totally surprised, stating that he had never seen it before, which I believed, because he was not the type of person to play tricks.

We still have the weight, but we never figured out where it came from. The second story is about us in the same house a few weeks later. We were sat quietly reading late one evening in our living room which was located off of the kitchen. Then suddenly we heard a bell ring. It came from the kitchen. It wasn't a doorbell because we didn't have one. It sounded more like one of those bells they have on hotel reception desks to alert staff that someone is at the desk and needing assistance.

We both looked at each other and I said, Did you hear that? Jonathan confirmed he had, but continued reading. He's not easily spooked. But I am, and I jumped up to peer into the kitchen, seeing nothing there that could have made the noise. We didn't have neighbors and the road was not busy because of the time of night. And the noise definitely came from the kitchen.

Jonathan then stated that he was going, to bed, so I quickly followed him, saying, wait for me. It really spooked me, and it still gives me goosebumps when I tell the story to anyone. I hope you enjoy the stories. We stayed in that house for 17 years, and nothing else happened. And we never figured out what could have caused the two incidents to happen. Thanks. I love listening to your stories, and you have a great storytelling voice.

Thank you. As the topic of this write-up is... is of the Islamic lore. It's proper that Tom wanted to open this with a quote, and I did not create the Jin and human beings except that they should worship me from the Quran. The rest of this is Tom's write-up. I have to start this by thanking Raven for letting me do this one as it could be considered a bit of a niche topic, but it's one that I find absolutely fascinating, and I look forward to sharing it with you all.

The Jin are some of the most prevalent entities in Islamic lore, and they're a very complicated species to really quantify. Some would call them ghosts, but that implies that they are undead, when they in fact do not fall into the category of undead whatsoever. Others equate these beings to demons, but even this isn't quite accurate, as this label implies that all Jin are malevolent beings, and, well, that's just not quite true. You see, while they feature very prominently in Islamic culture and lore,

the origins of the Jin actually predate the Islamic faith, appearing in far older religions of the Middle East. Although in the Quran itself, when it speaks of the Jin, it does mention that much like humans, Allah gave the Jin free will. This is something that I find incredibly interesting, because not even the angels were given free will. It also piques my curiosity because, being raised, in a Western Christian household,

I've always heard that only humans were given free will, and so to hear that there was another speech he's given free will, it's actually really quite kind of exhilarating to me. So, while the Jin don't quite fit the label of ghost or demon, just because they have free will, it still doesn't quite make them fall suitably into the human category either. Although, just like humans, Jin have the capacity to be both good and evil.

Some Jin are either believers in God while others are not. So the very nature of the Jin is as varied and complex as that of the human condition. Since they're definitely a supernatural entity and can be both good or evil, then the most suitable Western explanation to draw a parallel with, I would have to say, would be the Faye. The Faye are generally tied to nature or referred to as nature spirits, and that isn't far off from what Jin would be seen as in their native Middle East. They also have both good and evil Fay as well, as Fay that kind of

played jump rope with the lines of morality. Fay also take up residence in trees, caves, and other places associated with nature or the outdoors. The same can be said of the Jin. If you were ever outdoors somewhere in the Levant's and found you needed to relieve yourself, then most locals would probably caution you against doing so under a tree, as there might be a Jin living under that tree, and perhaps even sleeping there as we speak. And, well, it'd be quite rude, wouldn't it? The consequences of actually insulting a Jin in such a fashion

could range from suffering incredibly poor luck, severe illness, and even death. But the Jin's relationship with humans can be even more complex than such encounters, counters and reprisals. During my research on the Jin, I even found a fatwa issued in 2024 that spoke about using Muslim Jin as servants. I'll paraphrase a bit here, but the gist of it says that the world of Jin is real, and that to believe in it is obligatory. It also states that interactions between humans and Jins are not the norm, but states that a Jin may be subjugated and made to serve certain humans, just as other humans.

humans are often made to do. Nephahua cites the story of Solomon enslaving the demons and using them to build his temple in Jerusalem as a kind of basis or justification for using Jin in similar ways. This sounds even more messed up once we consider the fact that Jin have free will. And then we hit the ethical wall in regards to slavery and all of that's other really dark stuff, which is probably a topic better suited to a different podcast than this one.

Many of the entities in Islam today that are recognized as Jin actually date back before the existence of the Islamic faith, and are deity figures from the more ancient pagan tribes that once lived in the area that have kind of been annexed into the Islamic faith, even if their lofty titles of being some kind of God might have been downgraded slightly. But the cultures of the Levant have never had much in the ways of issues when it comes to co-opting other people's religious pantheon into their own. In fact, going back to the earliest days of civilization in the region, each town once had its own patron god.

And when another city came to attack, it was common practice to carry the shrine or statue of the conquered city's deity back to the conquering city's temple. By doing this, you acknowledge the other civilization's god, but at the same time, declare the supremacy of your civilization's god. As such, the tradition of incorporating other society's religious beliefs into their own dates far back before the time of Islam. Jin, it seem, are no exception to this. And while some of them may have gone from being regarded as some kind of deity figure to something a bit more mundane,

the fact remains that the Jin are as ancient as humanity. And if religious texts are to be believed, then we share a common origin as well as share space on this planet. While the Jin might be considered a largely Middle Eastern kind of thing, I'm compelled to tell you that this is really not the case. The Jin are definitely not a phenomenon restricted to the Middle East by any means. Let's keep in mind that, for all intents and purposes, they are like human beings with their own agendas, once, etc. There, let's call it society, would be pretty similar to ours.

And so it seems to derive from this that Jin would of course want to travel and see as much of their world as we humans want two of ours. So, while they may not be called Jin in all corners of the world, you can certainly find entities that fit the general description of a Jin. In the Western world, the Fay have a lot in common with them, they're supernatural creatures with extremely long lifespans, and are often associated with magic and other extremely good or extremely bad fortune. Many times in stories they are referred to as tricksters, who often try to lead humans astray, usually for their own amusement, or as punishment for some perceived slight. Sometimes in encounters, if someone is able to outwit the Jin or Fay,

they will often be granted some kind of prize or boon that often ends up being some kind of double-edged sword. The last thing really is an expression of a Jin's free will. the creature would be actively making a decision to engage with humans, either for its own entertainment or its own amusement. At least, I can only surmise that these would be the two primary motives for tricking or punishing humans. From the religious standpoint, it would probably seem as if the nefarious Jin were seeking to tempt humans into sin and draw them off the holy path and onto one of temptation.

a kind of spiritual hurdle to be cleared in order to progress along one's religious journey and to grow. This, I suppose, could be why some people view them as demonic, or infernal entities. Although, I would argue that there are humans that seek to do these kinds of things as well, and yet we don't classify them as demonic, but evil most certainly. I think that it is truly interesting that Jin are such a common cultural phenomenon, that even the dominant religion of the area has had to acknowledge them, and even make them a part of its dogma. But it's also intriguing that the Jin themselves have kind of transcended religion, and even fit into the more secular aspects of the culture. They feature in art and literature both religious and not.

In fact, we're all quite familiar with the famous jinny or genie from the story of Aladdin's Lamb. Another famous story of a jinny also comes to us from the 1,001 Arabian Nights in the form of a story called The Fisherman and the Ginny. The story goes that a fisherman casts his net four times a day and catches nothing but useless items until he retrieves a copper jar. When he opens the jar, he unleashes not the benevolent, if mischievous jinny, such as from the story of Aladdin, but a creature that is fueled by vengeance.

The jinny have been imprisoned by King Solomon and had sworn to grant whoever freed him from the jar their choice of death. The fisherman, realizing he's in terrible danger, questions the jinnee's power, saying that if it were so large and powerful, there is no way it could ever fit into such a tiny jar. Eager to prove its power, the jinny shrinks itself down and re-enters the jar, allowing the fisherman to reseal the jar and save his home. life. So while often described as incredibly or all-powerful, paranormal or supernatural beings made of

smokeless fire, even the most powerful and angry Jin can be outsmarted if one has quick enough wits. The moral of the story actually teaches us that, what seems to be an overwhelming powerful enemy, can be defeated by means other than brute force, not only teaching that there are non-violent solutions, but solutions that aren't always evident. But there are other famous tales about Jin, many of them coming from the 1,000 Arabian Nights. Some of these stories include Sinbad in the Valley of Diamonds, in which the titular character finds a valley full of diamonds that is guarded by a giant snake, which the famous sailor soon figures out as an evil Jin in disguise. Again, using wit, the protagonist proves that even the most powerful Jin can be outsmarted.

and Sinbad escapes the valley with a substantial amount of the timens. Also, such stories as the city of brass where three explorers search for the fabled city of brass and tells of a brass vessel in which Solomon had trapped a gin, again highlighting the recurring theme of gin being bound to vessels such as pots or jars. It also once more links a specific story about a gin and King Solomon being the one to have sealed him. All in all, I would recommend anyone that is more curious about some of the Arabian lore or anyone that loves a good adventure story to check out the 1001 Arabian Nights as a whole.

The stories tend to follow what could be called the traditional formula of an adventure tale, but you can't deny that the formula works, as most adventure stories today follow it almost to the letter. Most of the stories begin with the introduction to the protagonist, a brief overview of the journey he is currently in the middle of, and then we meet the antagonist or encounter whatever obstacle is on the path, and ultimately learn some kind of moral lesson as the brave hero escapes with the treasures, saves the girl, or otherwise emerges victorious from his tribulation.

Simple, effective, and it makes for some of the best stories. In some ways, the tales that we have of the Jin often have them serving as some kind of fodder for the tale of morality. or of overcoming the odds. The genre often portrayed as arrogant and full of themselves, so very confident in their ability to best another mortal in some kind of twisted game of chance. All in all, I think the lessons that can be taken away from stories like these are that there are always unseen solutions to your problems

and just because you can't outfight a threat does not mean that all hope is lost. And there's always the chance that you can outsmart, the seemingly unbeatable and all-powerful foe, even if it is supernatural. Then again, as I think about it, that sounds much like the Faye from the many morality tales from the Western world. Arthurian and Irish legends abound with similar stories of encounters with the Faye or fairy folk. Often, with them, the antagonist foil for the valiant king or Ireland's child of light.

Oh, and just a little lore for you all, did you know that the purpose behind knocking on wood is done to ask for a favor from the fairies. So now you know what you are in fact doing when you quote knock on wood. So whether you call them Faye or you call them Jin, make sure you consider who might be sleeping or otherwise residing under that nice shade tree before you relieve yourself while you're out camping or hiking. First of all, I love your voice, Raven. It's soothing to me, my mom and my sister.

we all listen to your podcast. Thank you. Second, I'm bad at spelling, but I'm sure you can get what I'm trying to say. Third, I'm not trying to get anyone to believe in what I believe in. For context, my grandma used to babysit us a lot. And not that it matters, but my sister is about two years younger than me. She's a funny, caring, and kind lady. I've had plenty of paranormal experiences in my life, and yet, I believe in it.

I was little, like a toddler at the time, and this happened several times. My grandma told me about this, by the way. I would go into our living room just fine with others, but when my grandma would tell me to go watch TV, I would tell her that the boy was in there. My grandma would say that there was no one in there, but I thought there was a scary little boy in there. I even remember what he looked like.

She would turn on the TV and I would be fine. But I was persistent that this boy existed and that he stayed in the living room. This is one of my many paranormal experiences. I would normally think this was an imaginary thing that I made up as a kid, but I remember this little boy, and I was terrified. Also, my grandma would never tell me something like this

and have it be false. Hi Raven. As they say, long-time listener, first-time submitter. I have a few stories to submit, but we'll start with the one that I often forget about because it was, frankly, so far out of left field for the kinds of things that happen, or rather don't happen in my life. While I've had plenty of things happen that make me question the world we live in in terms of spirituality, the matrix, etc., this one was boiled.

down to simply mental illness, I believe. And while it wasn't necessarily scary in some of the other ways I've heard scary stories on the podcast, it was certainly weird, so feel free to use it or not use it as you see fit. On to the story. I was attending school at my local community college, wrapping up the three classes that I needed to complete as a 22-ish-year-old that had previously dropped out due to not knowing what the heck I'd, I was even going to school for.

I had college credits from my high school days that were going to expire if I didn't obtain a degree, and so I begrudgingly signed up for the final three classes that I needed, as I knew I would like to continue with school eventually, and knew that this would save me both time and money in the long run. The story takes place in my composition two class. The semester goes by fairly normal. The class is taught by an older woman, I guess probably in her mid to late 50s.

She's on the slender side with graying hair and is one of those teachers that has a very specific way she wants to run her class, expects you to behave in class, and for how you'll turn in your work. Most of the people in this class are young adults, 18 or 19 years old with the few exceptions, myself being one of them.

While being young and defiant isn't an unusual trait, I would say that I've been told that I was more headstrong than a bull at this age, and so I'm sure you can guess that I was not particularly fond of her rules for the sake of having rules. That said, I was an A student all throughout high school and college, and I wasn't going to break my streak now, so I found loopholes as needed throughout the semester. The teacher and I didn't fight per se, but I would push boundaries. Fast forward to the second to last day of class. We're supposed to be writing an essay for our final, and we have two days to do it.

The classroom is silent as everyone faces their school-provided computers and types away. This was about 10 years ago, so every student having their own computer to bring to class wasn't necessarily common, though it was gaining traction. Maybe half to three-quarters the way through the hour-long. class, the teacher comes up to me and asks if she can talk to me in the hall. I tell her, sure, and to be honest, I assume she was going to grill me about being on my phone throughout the semester, and finally wanted to just lay it into me before she likely never saw me again. So, I'm mentally gearing up for this conversation in the few moments I have as I follow

her out to the hallway. She goes and sits down on a bench nearby and asks, me to sit with her. I do, and she begins to start telling me about her husband and a therapist. It wasn't clear if it was her therapist, his, or theirs. How she had pictures and how she needed help. As you can imagine, I'm about as confused as it gets, both in terms of what she's telling me and why I'm the one she's telling it too, given my general attitude in the class. Treading carefully, I tell her that I can try and get her some help. I ask if there's someone I can call for her. She tells me no.

She can't call anyone because they might be listening. After circling around this a few more times with nothing ever really making more sense to me, she finally says to me, didn't my people talk to your people? They told me they were going to. If you're wondering who any of the theys are, or who my people or her people are. Congrats.

You're as confused as I was in this moment. I tell her no, that no one has contacted me. At this point, she reiterates that she needs help and adds that she has to hide. She can't go to her place or take her car because they are watching. She asks if I can take her to my home in my car. Stupidly, out of, I assume, shock, I say, yes. I lived in Iowa at the time and stuff like this just didn't and doesn't. I still live in Iowa really happen here, so the shock factor is real. So then she asks me, a student, and still very

young adult myself, tough girl image aside, what she should do about her class. I tell her that she should just let them know that she's dismissing class early. She goes up and does this, collects her things, and we go to my car, and, again, stupidly I take her to my house. I was at a loss for what to do or how to help her, having honestly never dealt with anything remotely close to this in my life prior, and not having much knowledge on how mental illness can truly present itself. My justification aside, this was just dumb. Finally, I'm starting to get some sense back once we're at my house.

I lived very close to the school, so probably only 30 or so minutes have elapsed since she pulled me out of the class. I told her to stay there and that I had to go run an errand, which was true. I shouldn't have left her in my house alone. Another stupid thing, but I also felt like I needed to get help and I didn't feel like I could call anybody in front of her. I got in my car to run the quick errand and immediately called my mother, who, thankfully, is a very, sane and grounded woman, and immediately provided some direction to my adult brain. She told me that I should not have left the woman in my house. She could be planting drugs or any number of crazy things, she said understandably,

that she was going to call the school and, after verifying that I didn't feel in danger, suggested that I go back home and bring her back to the school. I want to clarify that if I had not felt safe, either my mother or I would have called the police and that she was in no way suggesting I go back into the situation that I was scared to be in. So my mother and I did the things she said. She quickly called back after calling the school

and told me where to drop the teacher off at. Back at my home, I convinced her that, quote, my people cleared us to go back to the school where they could help her. I dropped her off with the security guard and left in the house. a days. I didn't hear much about what exactly happened to her other than she was going to get the help that she needed. I did get pulled out of my night class later that day in front of everyone, which was

dramatic, as you can imagine, and I had to give a statement to the night dean and head of security. Afterwards, my night class teacher held me after class and tried to let me know that she was here in case I needed to talk about anything. To this day, I'm not. not sure if she meant it, or was just curious about what happened. But either way, I thanked her and didn't comment. I didn't tell anyone at the school outside of the dean and security what happened as I felt bad for the woman,

and honestly, awkward for myself. The last day of English class, there was a substitute teacher for our final. I couldn't even tell you the original teacher's name to try and look her up now, but this was such a wild experience. that I often forget it even happened to me. I will say that this experience did make me much more aware of what to do in surprising situations like this. So, while it certainly wasn't ideal, I'm in a way glad that a safe, crazy experience happened to me. It's easy to say you'll do X, Y, Z when something happens to you,

but it's so much different in the moment than it is just thinking about it. The situation helped prepare me to be much more on my toes, regardless of shock, and I'm sure it helped me navigate life in a much safer way that I potentially would not have if I had not had this experience. Oh, and for those of you wondering, I did get my associate's degree from the community college. After taking an approximately two-year break, I also enrolled in a four-year school at the age of 25, I've completed my bachelor's and then continued on to get my master's and found relevant employment in my field.

Not knowing what you want to do right away out of high school can feel scary too, as well as dropping out of college, which I also did. So there's a little mini scary story with a happy ending in there as well. Thanks for listening and reading if this makes it, and stay safe. Hey there, friends. I hope that you enjoyed this collection of Scary Stories. stories on this episode of the As the Raven Dreams podcast. If the platform you're on has the option to follow podcast and you enjoyed my work,

please do consider doing so. Also, leaving ratings and reviews are super important for the algorithm to support the growth of the podcast. I'm just one guy doing this. I don't have a team. It's literally just me doing everything. So any supports like that is greatly appreciated. Never expected, though.

So if you go above and beyond with that, I do appreciate it. Some platforms also allow you to leave comments, and if you feel inclined to do so, please do. I would appreciate that. I do have a Patreon in a merch store that you can also check out if you want to support a little further. The Patreon side of things get you early access to all of my content. It is formatted differently as it goes in line with what my YouTube channel is, but it is the same stories. Just different collections. There is also a website, as the...

The Raven Dreams.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. can be, don't forget it. And until next time, much love and sleep well.