As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 213 - Stories Of Survival & Scary Snow Day Stories

Episode Date: February 17, 2026

Today, on the 213th episode of the As The Raven Dreams podcast, we have 6 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 Scary Stories Of Survival & Scary Snow Day 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 on 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... MarshmallowCake, CiaraV, Jimmy P, CliffG, RFDS_FTW, FWatson As Well As Any Author That Has Requested Anonymity. TimeStamps… Ad breaks after Story 1 & Story 4 1 ➤ 1:32 2 ➤ 12:47 3 ➤ 24:04 4 ➤ 33:39 5 ➤ 45:16 6 ➤ 55:30 ----- 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 #CloseCallStories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hey there, friends. Good afternoon. Hope you're doing well. Today we have a collection of stories of survival, so close call stories, if you will. And some snow day stories as we're slowly creeping our way out of winter here in the U.S. This part of the hemisphere shouldn't just say U.S. Not be so Ameri-centric with my statements, but you know what I mean. As it's middle of February and we're slowly crawling our way out of this cold, time of year. Figgered some snow day stories would be good to throw in here as well, so. Hopefully, you all enjoy them. If you do, go down to the comment section, if you're on Spotify,

of course, and let me know. Just let me know how you're doing, your thoughts, how your day's going. What'd you have for lunch yesterday? I had... What did I have? Oh, I did some chips in queso, uh, tortilla chips and pre-made queso. Um, because then I didn't want to eat too much because we were going to have, I went to the grocery store and got like their barbecue ribs because the grocery store near me does that on the weekends. Anyways, I recorded this obviously just after that. It's whatever. What did you have for lunch? Tell me in the comments.

Anyways, have a great day. Hope you're doing well. And enjoy the stories, I guess. I was working as a wildlife photographer back in 2018. I have my own photography blog and also had my photos in a few art magazines. It had always been a hobby of mine that quickly turned into a career and I couldn't be happier. But there was one time that I was out on a job that nearly took my life that I wanted to share. I was in a large national forest taking photos for a contracted job.

I had been out there all morning photographing a family of black bears, tracking them through the forest with my equipment. But here's the problem. There had been a fire in the area. There had been reports about it for a few days, but it was supposed to be over 15 miles away from where I was in the forest and moving in the opposite direction. The air quality was poor and there was smoke visible in the distance,

but I also had worked in worse conditions. This was going to be a pretty important job to me and I was willing to risk it to an extent. Around 2 p.m., the wind shifted. I didn't realize what was happening at first. I just noticed the smoke was getting thicker. Then I could smell it. It was no longer that weak lingering smell of wood smoke,

but the sharp, acrid stench of a fire that's drawing close and getting closer. Something told me that I needed to get out of there. I packed up my gear and started hiking back to where I had left my truck, which was only about three miles from me. As I was walking, I heard this really weird sound. It was like a freight train speeding along the tracks mixed with this low roar. It was the fire. It was creating its own weather system, generating winds that were feeding it and making it move and spread faster.

Then I saw one of the most horrifying things ever as I headed back. I could see the orange glow through the trees in the distance. Some of the things that I learned that day was that wildfires don't move like you see in movies. There's not this neat line of flames that's advancing slowly. It's erratic. They jump, they skip around, they launch embers hundreds of feet into different directions

and much faster than I ever expected. The heat hit me like a wall. Even though the flames weren't visible yet, the radiant heat from the fire was intense. It was like I was standing close to a large bonfire. I guess I kind of was. I started coughing and my throat was beginning to burn with every breath. I started to panic.

I was still trying to navigate back to my truck, but the smoke was everywhere. My eyes were streaming and I could barely see ten feet ahead of me. The sky was already turning this orange black color and I spotted these little particles falling. It was ash. I tried to pull my shirt up some over my mouth to prevent me from breathing it in. I was still running around trying to find my way out, but I was clearly panicking too much. I had gotten myself turned around at some point, and I was lost. The smoke had gotten so thick that I couldn't make out any landmarks.

I was running around the forest trying to find the trail, but nothing looked familiar. One of the sounds that I will never forget was the sound of basically the trees exploding. I later read into it that the sap and the trees get so hot and boils until they literally explode from internal pressure. It sounds like gunshots echoing through the forest. It made me stop for a moment thinking that maybe someone was out there with me, but then my irrational and rational thoughts joined saying that, that it didn't matter. I needed to get out.

They had a gun and no indication that they were going to help me. Just run. And that's what I did. The fire was getting closer every time I turned to look, and I could see the flames towering at 50 to 60 feet high. I was running out of energy. I was a smaller girl, but certainly not what I would call fit. I didn't think I was going to make it out of there.

I saw a small creek bed barely flowing, but it was there. I remember passing it on my way through the trees when I arrived. I couldn't remember how far I was when I had crossed it. I remembered the basic safety tips we learned as kids, and that water might be a saving grace. So I dropped into the creek bed and pressed myself as flat as possible against the wet rock. I flipped over to get my back wet, soaked my shirt, and then covered my head with it.

I could hear the flames getting closer and closer. The fire was hot like a wave of just pure heat surrounding me. Even with the wet cloth over my head, I felt like I was being cooked alive. Like when you're out in the sun and you feel the one spot on your scalp or shoulder growing hotter and hotter, as if it was in direct light of the sun. Imagine that feeling up and all over.

your body. The sounds of a large fire like that one was deafening. Between the pain from the heat and the roar, I remember crying so loudly. I hadn't cried like that since I was a kid. I kept my face pressed to the wet rocks, breathing through the soaked shirt trying to get the air that wasn't superheated. I don't know how long I stayed there,

but I remember getting so worked up that I passed out. I remember opening my eyes and they felt heavy. I was incredibly sore and still felt hot. I could feel my exposed skin blistering. I could smell the burnt hair around my head. I was still breathing in superheated air and every breath seriously felt like a fire in my lungs. I stayed in that creek bed for probably about an hour, occasionally splashing water on myself. The intensity gradually decreased.

The heat became at least bearable even though it was still intense. I lifted my head to look around and I started crying again. Everything was burning. Trees become nothing more than torches. The ground almost looked alive with how it was smoldering, but thankfully the main fire had passed and somehow I was still alive. I finally willed myself to move. I knew that I had to find help if I was ever going to make it out of there.

I needed water. I needed clean oxygen. And I needed medical attention. My back felt like it was on fire and I could smell the skin burning. It was sickening. Yet, through all the panic, I could finally think a little clearer. I knew the water flowed downhill to, towards roads and civilizations, so I followed the creek.

I think I walked for probably close to two more hours. Everything around me was black and still smoldering. Trees were still falling around me as their trunks gave way. I could feel the heat from the ground through my boots. Finally, I found my way onto a road where a Cal Fire crew found me. After they were certain that I was going to be okay, they said that I looked like something straight out of a horror movie. I saw a picture of myself that was taken of me.

I was covered in ash. My skin was blistered and my clothes were burned and tattered. One of the firefighters gave me oxygen, while another called for medical transport. I had somehow made it out alive. I had second-degree burns on my arms, back and neck, my back being the worst of it. My hair was burnt up enough that I ended up having to cut it really short.

I had severe smoke inhalation that actually damaged my lungs. I see a pulmonologist regularly now and will probably need to for life. The respiratory damage was permanent. I have reduced lung capacity and I'll probably deal with breathing issues forever. I can't exercise like I used to without getting completely winded. and those nice hikes into forests are now a thing of the past for me. I can do it for a very short period of time, and I refuse to go alone,

which then makes me want to do it less because I feel bad for constantly stopping. I also have to carry an inhaler everywhere. I spent a week in the hospital, and then another month recovering at home. My parents took turns coming over and helping me out, but I did okay for myself for the most part. and of course all of my equipment that I had with me in my truck was ruined beyond repair. I left most of my equipment in its bag by the creek when I lied in it,

and my only thought after getting up was to find help. My camera itself was still around my neck, but was ruined with the fire and the water. I managed to salvage the card in it, and now every time I see those pictures I took right before I packed up, it becomes this terrifying reminder of what happened afterwards. And that made it all worse. On top of the physical damage, I became nervous around fires. I won't say that it became a flat-out phobia.

I still use candles and lighters to light them. I've been around people grilling, but I don't like campfires, bonfires, fireplaces, or even fireworks. Those made me too nervous. The crackling of the wood always makes me flinch, and I hated it. I used to love hanging out with my friends around a bonfire, but now it's a thing of the past for me. In the end, though, I was just needing to be patient with myself. I had survived the car fire that killed several people and burned over 200,000 acres. I made the mistake of not taking it seriously, since I wasn't being directly affected by it,

and I learned how dangerous and stupid that was. If I hadn't found the creek, I'm not sure that I would have survived. So all I can provide to others is to say, please take fire safety very seriously. If you are being warned or told to evacuate an area or not to enter other certain areas, just follow those warnings. Your lungs will thank you.

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Back when I was in my sophomore year of college, I was a disgruntled delivery driver for a local pizza chain. The job wasn't glamorous, and to be honest, I hated it before this event. but I did the job because the extra cash was good. This was especially true when it came to days where the weather sucked.

I drove a mildly beat-up Ford Bronco that was an absolute beast when it snowed. So I knew that if I delivered on days where it had piled up, I would most likely be fine. I depended on it, because on those nights the tips were always great. A $20 run could easily turn into a full $20.00. and Tips, because people would feel bad about making you get out and drive through the snow. It was just after 11 p.m. on a day where we'd been getting blanketed since around noon, and the roads were absolute garbage. We got an order for a large pepperoni and a side of wings that needed to get to an address

on the furthest road of our delivery circle. It was a part of town where there weren't many houses, closer to where it actually became more rural. But there were a few houses out there, and with it being that far, my thought was immediately on how much this guy was going to tip. I was greedy. What can I say? My manager actually asked if we should cancel it, quote, for safety, but I told him that I would take it. He asked if I was sure, and I waved him off. I told him I'd be fine, and he just nodded and said okay. I grabbed the heated bag with the food and loaded it into my passenger seat and then started out at the parking lot. The drive was white knuckle the whole way.

The Bronco was usually a tank in this kind of weather. I could get through drifts that would bury a sedan like they were nothing. But the visibility was near zero. The wipers were fighting a losing battle against the huge wet flakes. When I got to the customer's house, I was hit with that ear. silent stillness that happens in a blizzard. The driveway was the first red flag, though at the time I didn't really see it like that. It was completely untouched, with easily ten or so inches of snow piling around it.

I should have parked on the street, but I was also a victim of laziness. The driveway was a decent length, and I really didn't want to walk all the way through the snow, so I pulled my car into the driveway, so I was closer to the house when I parked. I trusted the old machine to make it in and out of the driveway. Unfortunately, as much as I trusted the vehicle, I also misplaced a lot of trust in myself. After I pulled up, I decided that I would go ahead and reposition myself to make it easier to turn around and pull out forward, basically pull a pre-exit K-turn. The driveway looked wide enough for me to do so,

so I figured I would be fine. That assumption was dumb. The driveway was not as wide as it looked, and my decision would be what set me in a really bad position. I turned hard left, and then I put it in reverse to back up, and within a few moments, I felt it slide. Then gravity took over,

and my back passenger side tire dropped off solid ground and into what was basically a drainage ditch filled with snow. I shouted out an expletive or two, grabbed the pizza and threw my door open, thinking that I would have to figure this all out after delivering the food. I knocked on the door and an older guy answered wearing a wool sweater and sweats. He didn't smile or really say anything. He just looked at me, glanced past me, at my car, which was obviously in a precarious situation, and then gave me a bit of a huffed laugh. He then handed me the cash and took the pizza, and then just stared at me blankly.

I stood there for a second, thinking that surely he would say something, but when he didn't, I just said, okay, thanks, have a great night, and then turned to walk away. I got to my car and I threw it into four low, trying to get it out of the drainage dish. I rocked it back and forth. I tried drive, tried reverse. No matter what I did, the rear wheels were not moving. The passenger side was in the ditch, and the driver's side was partially on a slant, but I was just spinning on thick snow that was turning into ice.

This was something that I wasn't used to. The Bronco never got stuck, but here I was not able to move it. After a few moments, I opened my door and was met with someone, the customer, shouting at me. I had a feeling you were stuck. I already called a tow truck. Why don't you come on inside? You can call your store and let them know why you aren't back yet. My head was telling me not to follow him inside, but it was freezing out there, and I really didn't want to stand outside waiting for a tow or burn my gas running the heater. In the end, I agreed with him and the two of us stepped into the front door.

It was warmer inside, but the house was also a mess. It looked like the start of a hoarder's home. There were piles of stuff in random places, strewn about here and there. It was like he was starting to become a hoarder but wasn't quite there yet. Yes, I judged, and I still am. And yes, I know that's a dick move. He motioned toward what looked like a dining room and said that the phone was on the hook in there. I walked in and grabbed the phone off of the base and put it to my ear, only to be greeted with silence.

I pressed the button on the base a few times and nothing changed. I glanced over at the living room where the man now was, only to see him standing there and staring at me. I had this really deep, painful feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was at this point that I realized that I was an idiot. I put the phone back on the hook and mentioned that it wasn't working and then stepped into the living room like I hadn't actually realized what was happening. I very calmly looked around the room for anything I could use as a weapon. Then the other shoe dropped,

and he made it very clear what. his intentions were. You know what this is. How much money do you have on you? I sighed and basically fell into a minor plea for my life. Dude, I have the cash you gave me in like 20 bucks. If you want it, you can have it. I don't care.

Just let me leave. He looked like he was contemplating it for a moment, and then shook his head and said, nah, I think you have more than that. Don't make me hurt you, please. At that point, I figured that it was do or die. I grabbed a broom that was propped up against the wall, and I swung it as hard as I could in a way that would hit with the handle instead of the bristle part.

It was one of those old brooms, the ones that were completely made of thick wood, so it had some heft to it when it smacked against the guy's face. I took that moment of distraction to turn and run to the back door, flipped open the lock and took off out and around the house to get back to the road. I heard him grunt and shout something at me as I ran down the driveway. I have no idea what he said, but he didn't chase me out into the yard. He probably just assumed that the cold would get me, plus I couldn't escape in my car since it was stuck in his front yard.

I had to book it on foot, and I knew that that was not in my face. favor. Thankfully, I actually had a bit of a miracle moment. As I got a bit down the road, a plow truck turned down the same street. I stood there waving my hands like a maniac, and thankfully he did stop. I explained to him that I was a delivery driver, and that the guy at the house had just attempted to rob me, and then I told him that my car was stuck in a ditch at that house. At first he looked me like I was yelling in a different language, but I guess he decided I wasn't a threat, because he told me to hop into the passenger side and that he would get the police out there. The cops did show up about 40 or so minutes later, the snow slowing their response.

I explained to them that my car was stuck in the ditch at the house and told them about what had happened, how the guy told me to come in and that he'd called for a tow, but then he tried to rob me. They took me up to the house and told me to wait in the car as they checked in on the homeowner. Much to their surprise, and mine, the front door was wide open, and the house was actually empty. The officer told me that there was signs of a struggle, the broom on the floor, a small blood trail to the front door and knocked over chairs. But the guy was gone. The pizza and wings were actually still on the coffee table and the living room untouched.

but the house also looked completely deserted. So at this point, it was pretty clear that this guy had used an empty house full of trash to try and get a driver there in hopes that they could use the weather to take advantage of them. And I had fallen into it, despite having a vehicle that was normally capable. An unfortunate situation that he was able to follow through on because I messed up and decided to try to turn around in the driveway. The officer got the tow truck there to get my Bronco out of the ditch and took a statement from me for the whole thing. When I got back to the store and gave my manager the money for the delivery, explaining everything,

I told him that I was done. He thought that I meant for the night, but no, I told him that I quit. He tried to ask me to reconsider, but I told him that that was the end of it for me. It wasn't worth it. I know that nothing like that was the... likely to ever happen again. But really? Once was enough for this guy.

If you want food in a snowstorm, you can starve for all I care. I'm keeping my ass inside. I'm an experienced skier and had been going up until 2015, which is when my story took place. My friend Scott and I had been going on these ski trips for years and always had a lot of fun on them. It was the adrenaline rush for me. I loved being up high in the snow and flying down these mountains. We were in the backcountry of British Columbia, not the first time either, and Scott and I had checked the avalanche forecast that morning. It was rated as considerable,

but we'd skied in those conditions before. The fresh snow from the night before was too tempting. We convinced ourselves that we would stick to safer terrain. That was our first mistake. We were on what seemed like a moderate slope, something we were very familiar with. When I felt and heard this deep sound that every backcountry skier dreads, it was like a wump, the sound of a weaker snow layer collapsing.

If anyone who reads the skis, you probably know what I'm talking about. The entire slope fractured around us, watching it spread like glass breaking. Scott was slightly higher up and to my side. I saw him try to ski out of it, and thankfully he made it to the tree. Unfortunately, I wasn't so lucky. The avalanche hit me fast. I had also gone white water rafting, so I know the feeling of the violent waves and trying to keep control.

But this was different. It was more violent and more chaotic. Before I knew it, I was tumbling and completely disoriented. I didn't even know which way was up, with snow being all around me. It was forcing its way into my mouth, my nose, and even my goggles. I tried to remember my training, fight to stay to the surface, try to, quote, swim or dig upwards, and most importantly, create an air pocket before the snow settles. Through the fear of breaking my wrist or arm,

I managed to get one hand in front of my face as the avalanche slowed. Then everything stopped. The snow around me turned from this soft fluid state to concrete in seconds. I quickly realized that digging my way out of this was not going to happen. I couldn't move at all. My right arm was pinned across my chest and my left arm was somewhere above my head, I think. At least that's how it felt. I couldn't move my head.

I couldn't feel my legs at all. The pressure was insane, like I was wrapped tightly into a full body cast. One of the most eerie parts of being buried in snow was the silence. I used to love that dead silence after a large snowfall, but not. knots after this experience. After the roar of the avalanche, that's all I was left with. Nothing. Complete darkness and total silence.

I tried to scream for help, just a quick one to try and alert Scott or anyone of where I was, but barely a sound came out. There wasn't enough room for my lungs to expand properly. I could feel my breath creating a small space in front of my face where I had managed to cup my hand. However, with each exhale, the moisture from my breath was freezing, making my little air pocket smaller and smaller. I could seriously feel the ice forming on my face and inside my nostrils, wherever there was even the smallest amount of dampness. When you're quite literally stuck in a situation like this, time becomes meaningless. I tried counting seconds but kept losing

track. I would start hearing my own heart beats, or I would try listening for sounds around me. I remembered the training we went through. I knew Scott would activate his beacon and then would search for me, but until and unless he did, I had no way of knowing if he had made it to safety. I mean, what if he had ended up buried too? What if he was injured? Those kinds of thoughts lingered in my head longer than they should have, too. And of course, it was all making the situation worse for me. At least in my head it was. Between the anxiety, the physical exertion, and most importantly the limited oxygen,

I started having troubles staying conscious. I kept telling myself that I had to stay awake. I didn't have a choice. With hypothermia, you have to stay awake, and I feared that it would set in soon too. The carbon dioxide that I was exhaling was starting to build up in my own small air pocket, and I could feel myself getting drowsy and confused. I remember at one point just repeating my daughter's name, like I was looking for her and then I would come back confused as to where I was,

making me panic for a moment. I knew this was bad. I was running out of oxygen. At one point, I really fought to stay away. waking. Sleeping sounding so easy and I could just do that and conserve energy. This was a very dangerous way of thinking. Sadly, I was losing the fight. I kept finding myself closing my eyes longer and longer.

Until I felt a vibration. It was rhythmic and familiar. Someone was probing the snow above me with an avalanche probe. I tried to scream but only a groan came out. I tried to move my arms, but they were like concrete and pinned in place by the snow. Then the vibration stopped. My heart sank as I feared that they didn't locate me, but then it came back. And then I heard the most beautiful sound that I have ever heard in my entire life.

A shovel hitting snow. While I was in the hospital, Scott told me that he managed to get out of the slide, but that there was no way he'd be able to help me without getting himself buried, and then we would both be trapped. I understood that, too, and there was no ill will towards him for not saving me either. Once it stopped, he started searching with his beacon. My signal was showing, thankfully, but I was buried under nearly seven feet of snow. He dug for 40 minutes straight not stopping until he reached my hand.

Turns out it was above my head, and I'm thankful that it was because he may not have seen me. He said that he was worried at first because I wasn't moving. He kept digging to clear the area around my face, clearing the snow from around my nose and mouth. It was an incredible feeling taking that first breath of fresh air. It was a relief, but it also burned my lungs. I started coughing, gagging on the snow, that was packed into my mouth. I was still slightly out of it,

but that was the best cough in my life as it jolted me back. I spent four days in the hospital. I had severe hypothermia, frostbite on my fingers and toes, and my oxygen saturation was dangerously low. The ski patrol said that another ten minutes, and I probably wouldn't have made it.

The carbon dioxide poisoning combined with the cold was well on its way to shutting down my organs, which was a terrifying thought, knowing how I was having trouble staying awake. I did end up losing two toes to the frostbite, and I had to partially learn how to walk without them. You wouldn't think a toe or two could change that much, but my balance was completely off. Simple things like going upstairs or standing on one foot, they felt it possible at first. The frostbite damage also affected the circulation in my remaining toes, which meant more months of treatment and monitoring.

So, there's my story. I may not have been doing something that caused this, but that's even worse. Mother nature can be a beast, and you have to both respect it and know how to react in those kinds of situations. And I will always be thankful for Scott. He did everything right, and he said, saved my life. We're still great friends, and we have skied since, but I don't like doing the extreme ones like we used to, even though this happened over a decade ago. I don't ever want to be

in that situation again. Just no matter what you do or where you go, be as detailed as you can about your location to someone, anyone, so you can always be found. This happened in either late February or early March of 2015. I was living in North Texas at the time. I was 17 years old. I was driving my dad's hand-me-down Honda Accord, gifted to me as a birthday present the year prior. At the time, I loved the car and was super excited to call it my own after getting my license.

In the car with me was my friend Maya, also 17, and my younger brother Josh, 15. We had just left a basketball game at a school about 30 minutes from home. The weather had been weird all day. It was unseasonably cold for Texas, and there were a lot of dark clouds in the sky. At first I thought we were just about to get a really bad storm, which wouldn't have been a big deal. But then it started to hail. Again, hail is pretty common in Texas, especially with spring just around the corner.

but I decided to use it as an excuse to make a stop. We were all in agreement, so we ended up stopping at a McDonald's that was close to the school we were at to get ice cream and cookies. It was pretty crazy hearing the hail hit the roof of the McDonald's, but my car was old and already cosmetically damaged, so I wasn't concerned about it. What I was concerned about was when the hail slowed and got quieter and then turned, to sleet, and then soon after, snow. Heavy, thick chunks of snow were now falling.

We had just been talking and messing around on our phones, but once we saw that, we all agreed that we needed to get going in case it got worse, and that's where I wished that we would have just driven through the hail and sleet. Once back on the road, I quickly realized the snow was already sticking to the road. In Texas, that almost never happens. We might get a light dusting once every few years, but that was it. I could probably count the amount of times I've seen snow on my fingers. But the snow wasn't going anywhere.

It was coming down fast and thick. There was a little sliding until we got on the highway, and it was making Maya nervous. She had moved here from Florida two years earlier and had never driven in snow either. The problem is, I think most people on the road that day really hadn't. The most training and experience with winter driving for me was my dad telling me to go slow and don't break too hard. Other people didn't get that same lesson, I guess, because I had several past me and stare like I was crazy for not going 70 down the highway. When I felt the tires slip when it hit dips in the road, I slowed down even further, going around four,

I believe. At one point there was a huge lifted truck that just roared past us going full speed. I was angry. It sprayed slush all over my windshield and I had to slow down further just to let my wipers clear it up. Who does that? But then, shortly down the highway, there was a clover turn that I had to take to stay on the part of the highway that I needed to take. I slowed down even further to make sure I could take the turn correctly and, to my surprise, I had seen that same truck that flew past us, stopped on the side of that turn,

the front of it smashed into the construction barrel at the start to warn others of the turn. No one else was around. Part of me wanted to stop because I felt bad for them, and another part of me just wanted to give them the old I told you so kind of look, for being a jerk earlier. The former one. Even with Maya and Josh telling me I should just keep them. keep going. I stopped, rolled down my window, and the guy rolled down his passenger. I asked him if he

was okay and if he needed us to call anyone for him. It was an older man, probably close to my dad's age. He just said something to the effect of, no, I'm fine, but thanks, in a very annoyed tone. Can't blame me for trying, though. So I told him to be safe, rolled my window back up and was on my way. Stopping probably wasn't the best idea, as we struggled to get around that hill, but we made it. That wasn't the last car that we saw like that either. We saw a van sliding across two lanes ahead of us until they came to a stop on the shoulder. We saw another car clearly overcorrect and end up perpendicular across two lanes on the other side of the highway, which was terrifying on its own. I was coming up on my exit, so I slowed down even more, preparing to exit and stop at the light.

I could feel the occasional slip, and every time it made my heart drop. Josh had now gone quiet in the back telling me that he was clearly nervous. Maya was also nervous, but she was trying to make me feel better and lighten the mood as much as she could. I hit my turn signal to indicate that I was exiting and slowly veered to the rest of the right to get off the highway. But as I was exiting, feeling better that we were in the home stretch here, I heard Maya say, oh, please tell me that they are not exiting. I saw her look out the side view mirrors, so I checked the rear view.

There was a van that was going way too fast down the highway. You could hear the skids as their tires spun, and they started fish tailing. And they continued up the exit ramp. the same ramp that we were on. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't really get over. I tried to get to the side closer to the shoulder, but that's all that I could do,

and that still wasn't enough. The van came barreling toward us. Josh was cussing, Maya was screaming and bracing herself. I remember clutching the steering wheel really hard and being frozen in place. The impact was deafening. It managed to hit the back, causing us to spin.

I don't know how many times. The side airbags had deployed, smacking the side of my head causing major whiplash. I tried to control it, slowly breaking, but it felt like my efforts were fruitless. We didn't stop until we were nose down in the small runoff ditch on the side. Once we were at a complete stop, I asked Maya and Josh if they were okay,

and they both quietly responded, but at least they were conscious. After making sure they were okay, I knew there were a few things I needed to do next. One of those was to make sure the people in the van were also okay. Looking out the windshield, I could see the van stopped at the intersection with their hazards on. I started opening my door to get out when the van took off. Their tires slid a few times and they skidded through the intersection, but, afterwards, they were fine and long gone. I was shocked.

They had just hit us, causing us to end up in the ditch and then they kept going. We could have been seriously injured, or hell, if either of us was going any faster, maybe even dead. But they didn't even bother to check on us. I was furious. I didn't expect them to leave, so I didn't even bother to look at the plate to get a number. I got out of the car and tried to help Maya, as she was too close to the ground to open her door, so she had to crawl over to my side.

Josh was able to easily get out from the driver's side. I knew the only thing I had left to do at that point was call my dad and the cops. I told Josh to call our dad and tell him where we were, and I called for help. I explained to them what happened, and they said that they had someone in route already. We all stood by the back of the car, trying to keep warm, too afraid to get back in it. Thankfully, the cop showed up pretty quickly, with my dad pulling up almost immediately after. I remember my dad hugging all of us and asking if we were okay, and all I wanted to do was cry. I was scared and angry.

Not to mention, I felt guilty that the car was totaled. The police asked a lot of questions, trying to get us to remember anything we could about the van. Thankfully, Josh remembered what the logo looked like, so we were able to tell what the model was. Plus, we had the color of the van and the direction that it had gone. While we were talking, a tow truck pulled up to get the car out. At that point, there was nothing else that we could do. We were told that we could leave and that they would tow the car back for us. We all piled up in my mom's jeep that my dad had taken and we went back to our house.

Maya was supposed to be staying over that night, so she called her parents to let them know what happened. My dad consoled me and said that I did everything right and explained that you just can't control other people. I was pretty shaken up and devastated that I had just lost my car, my first car. I was still angry that the people left without as much as seeing if we were okay. Hell, that jerk in the truck passed us and we still stopped to make sure he was okay. They just left us behind. But karma always comes back around, because apparently they were spotted and pulled over later that day,

because part of their bumper was dragging on the road, catching another cop's attention. We were able to identify the van, and they were able to identify the van, and they were charged with hit and run, among a few other things. As far as I was told, the guy driving wasn't under the influence or anything. He just didn't have insurance, but that was about it. He left three young people in a car that they put into a ditch,

not caring what happened. This was a decade ago. I am an adult now, all of us are, and I think we all took it seriously, and made sure that we were well prepared in the event of future severe weather. Thankfully, I haven't had to drive in a snowstorm like that since, but I have driven in the snow.

That snowstorm was a pretty bad one, and it caught a lot of people by surprise, so I also tried to keep that in mind. Some were just not as prepared, but it certainly taught me to be. So whether snow is a normal thing for you or not, no matter the weather, Just take your time getting wherever you need to be.

It sure as hell beats not getting there at all. Back in 98, my dad and I were camping in Western Australia. He's a geologist and would sometimes take me on his field trips during school holidays. This particular trip was to a remote area about 200 kilometers from the nearest town. We were completely isolated. No cell phone coverage. This was 1998, so we didn't have one. And even if we did, there were no towers out there.

No other people, just us and the red dirt. What followed while we were out there was the most terrifying moment in the 11 years of my life up to that point. We had set up camp near some rock formations that my dad wanted to study. It was late afternoon and I was ready to take it easy, so I'd been reading in the tent when my dad was collecting samples. about 20 meters away. It was normal for me to settle into the tent while he wandered off, neither of us concerned about the other. Everything was normal until I heard a weird yell.

I remember looking up from my book, but when nothing else happened, I went right back to reading. Shortly after, I heard my dad yell for me, and it was not a good call. I could tell by his voice that something was wrong. I quickly tossed my book aside and ran out to find him. I ran toward him and found him sitting on the ground holding his leg, his pants at his ankles.

He told me that he'd been bitten by a snake, an eastern brown snake. And even through the slight fear in his voice, he did his best to speak calmly and explain what I needed to do. I had to run back and get our first aid kit, and I helped him wrap his leg in press. pressure bandages, something I had never done before. Then, what he asked me to do was completely new to me, and a shock. He asked me if I remember what the different gears and pedals did in the car, and I said, I think so. He said that I needed to drive the vehicle and go get help.

I remember telling him there was no way. I was only 11 at the time. The closest thing to driving I had ever done was a riding lawnmower. Now I had to drive his jeep somewhere. I remember being scared at first, thinking my dad was going to die and it was going to be my fault because I couldn't drive. He then explained to me that he needed to remain as motionless as possible to slow the spread of the venom, but that I needed to go quickly. He explained to me how to drive his jeep again, how the shifter worked, because it was a manual, and then encouraged me to go quickly but safely. telling me to flag anyone down that I saw for help.

I didn't want to leave him alone, but I knew that I had to do something. Sitting there next to him crying would just kill him. So I ran back to the truck, adjusted the seat as far forward as it would go, started it, and turned around to follow the tracks back the way we came. I remember watching my dad use the shifter to change gears,

a concept that I didn't really understand. understand at the time, so I didn't use it. I stayed in first gear the entire drive, and it was a struggle. I remember as I started driving that I was instantaneously crying. My eyes were blurry because of it, and I was struggling at the time to keep both hands on the wheel and clear my eyes. I drove for what felt like forever, getting nowhere and spiraling in my thoughts that I was getting lost, and now we would both die out here alone. Because I didn't understand the different gears.

If I hit a rough part of the terrain, the Jeep would stall, and I would have to restart it. I remember crying and screaming every time not knowing what to do and how to stop it, wasting precious time every time it happened. The sun was going to set, and I was going to be losing daylight soon. There were no signs to tell me if I was even going the right direction. So all I could do was follow our trail, but in the dark, that was going to turn impossible. Finally, I saw a familiar rock that I remembered.

It curved around itself, almost looking like some kind of hook, and, based on that, I was able to identify when to turn. I kept driving straight from there, losing daylight faster and faster. I don't know how long I drove, but I kept going, praying that I would find help soon, and thank God I did. Further up the road, I saw a small group of people standing around next to a truck. I cut through this field to get to them faster, and I remember them all stopping and staring at me as I came toward them. Thinking back, I remember one of them moving out of the way of the Jeep in case I was going to hit them.

And another was in almost a fighting stance ready to stand up to whatever jerk just interrupted their fun, I'm sure. I don't think they were expecting a kid to. to get out of the driver's side. Through tears, I tried explaining to them that my dad was bitten and dying and that I needed help. They asked me if I knew where he was, and I remember saying that I thought so. One guy told another to go to town for help, and the other two got in our Jeep and offered to drive for me. I didn't refuse. The guy knew how to drive a manual.

We were hauling it through those roads as I tried to explain where we were camping. I got him to the hook rock, we turned, and then drove all the way back. Once we got close enough, I could make out my tent, and he pulled the jeep closer to my dad. I got out carrying the flashlight from his compartment, and I could see his chest rising slowly. They were shallow breaths, but he was still alive. The two guys debated on what to do, talking about how it may have been too dark for FDS, and that we probably needed to get him at least to a while. a better and more open area.

They pushed the back seats back as much as possible, and both of them lifted my dad slowly and carefully. They got him into the back. I had to help pull him across, which was not easy, but we did it. Then, I had to cram myself into the small back as they sat up front. They started driving, clearly knowing the area better than I did, until we were in a more open and flat area. Then we heard the sound of a plane above us.

The guy stopped the Jeep and got out for a moment. I was confused as to why. We didn't have a lot of time, but they were stopping. That's when I saw the plane landing. I was shocked and hopeful. People got out of the plane with a stretcher and ran over to my dad. I watched as they inserted a cannula, and when he didn't budge, it scared me even more. I thought he was dead, but the people in the place continued talking to him like he was completely conscious.

They finished quickly, lifting him on to the stretcher and they brought him back to the plane. They asked if I was his kid, I confirmed, and then asked if I wanted to go with them and I said yes. This was, admittedly, one of the coolest yet most terrifying moments in my life. Once my dad was at the hospital, they helped me. with phoning my mom, which filled me with crying all over again, but I was glad to see her and not feel alone. My dad spent a week in the hospital at Perth. The doctor told my mom that I was very brave and that I saved my dad's life, between acting fast with the bandage and driving to get help. The venom had caused some muscle damage and had affected his kidneys, but he survived. The whole ordeal from the bite,

To when the Royal Flying Doctor arrived, it was a little over an hour. Much longer, and he would have died. We were incredibly lucky. When he was finally lucid enough to walk, the first thing he asked was if I had managed to drive the Jeep and if I was okay. I was back home with my grandparents at that point, and my mom told him just how far I had driven to get help. It was somewhere close to 60 kilometers, I believe.

When I saw him for the first time after he was awake, he hugged me tightly and told me that he was very proud of me. I'm 38 now, dad's 68, and he still likes his geology work, but he's a lot more careful now. Now he has a cell phone on him at all times, but he also doesn't go out into areas like that alone either. Being a little older, he doesn't like doing that anyways. That night, I had to grow up quickly and learn several things all at once. I was terrified. Terrified I was going to do something wrong that I would crash the car or that I would just be too late and my dad would pay the price. But it also made me realize just how much kids are capable of when given the opportunity to prove it.

Not that I would ever wish what we experienced on anyone, but I did learn a lot about snakes and venom after that. So, I guess there was something good to come of it. Just remember that when it comes down to it, have faith in your kids. But please, own an automatic transmission just in case. Even though I've lived in North Dakota my whole life, I have never grown tired of the snow.

I love it. I loved playing in it as a kid, and even as an adult with my own kids and pets. But there was one winter when I was 11 that things became pretty scary for the neighborhood, and we all learned a fairly valuable lesson. It was late December. We were actually on our Christmas break, so we had plenty of time to play in the snow,

and not have to worry about anything. My older sister and I got all bundled up and dashed out the door before our mom could assign us one more chore to two first. We lived in a pretty close family-style neighborhood. The front yards were all open while the backyards were fenced in. We usually played in the front, so when another kid came out, we would holler for them and all hang out together.

It was the same thing on these snow days. When it came to snow, we usually played between Jason and Martha's house. Jason was the same age as my sister. Martha was an older lady who lived alone, but she had probably one of the largest yards. She loved having us kids around and didn't mind that we took her snow, especially because one of us would end up shoveling her walkway for her. She was the sweetest. So we would meet up between those two yards and just do whatever from there.

Eventually, all the kids in the neighborhood would be out to play or do something at that time. We tried to build snow castles, but never really got that far. We made snow angels or silly messages in the snow. Snowball fights were a given, and we would also build a snowman and the whole family, really. With a few of us out there, we had a quick snowball fight, and then something was mentioned about needing backup. That's when we started building a snowman. our snowmen. My sister, my friend Lacey and I, started working on hours when another neighborhood boy

named Tanner came to join us. Tanner was an okay kid. As bad as this sounds, he was the type of person that was fine to be around in small doses. He would start out fine, but then would do something to get on your nerves. He started helping us with the snowmen, but then would do other things, like try to make them way too big, or even make one smaller snowman, but then throw it in the air and let it smash into the ground. He would just get too impatient, I think.

At one point, he got too rowdy and started acting like he was fighting the snowman and punched a hole through one. At that moment, we were all mad at him because we had spent all that time on them, and angrily, even regretfully, told him to go away. We kicked him off our team, so to speak, and told him to try helping someone else. He just laughed about it and walked away to do something else. No big deal to us, and also was not a surprise. That's how Tanner was.

I don't know how much time passed at this point, but we played for quite some time. After a while, we got called in for lunch. We took off our layers, had lunch, and then did. decided to stay inside for the rest of the day, since our gloves and pants were pretty wet. We were in the basement, playing or watching something, when my mom came downstairs and asked if we played with Tanner at all today. We told her that we did for a little while, but that we told him to go away when he started being mean. She asked when the last time was that we saw him, and we had no idea. We didn't have a watch or a cell phone, so we didn't know.

the time, but we guessed that we were probably only together for the first hour or so. My mom asked us to really think about it and kept saying, are you sure? And I remember thinking that she sounded like we were lying and I was scared. My sister tried to explain better what happened, and my mom just nodded and said okay and then went back upstairs. We didn't really know what that was all about, but we just continued with. with our day. It was probably half an hour later.

We were in the kitchen having a snack when my mom answered the knock at the door. I thought I was scared before. I was even more scared when she went to the kitchen with a cop and Tanner's mom. I remember them smiling and being nice and soft-spoken. They just asked some of the same questions about Tanner that my mom asked earlier, but the cop asked more about what we were doing, but was said, who else was around. We went over it all again and explained that nothing crazy happened.

We got mad at him, yeah, but he walked off laughing about it. So why were we being questioned so hard about him when he was just as mean to us? Remember that this was all my thought process as a kid. That's when the officer explained to us that we weren't in trouble, and neither was Tanner. But the real concern was that he was missing. No one could find him. His mom had been calling for him for some time, but he wasn't responding. She walked around the neighborhood, and she could not find him.

And none of the kids out there knew where he was. That's when she started going to the houses and calling people to ask if maybe he was in someone's house, or if anyone had seen him. So far, everyone had given him. given a similar story. He played with us, got too rowdy, and then was told to try somewhere else. Tanner's mom was really sweet. I always thought it was odd that Tanner was such a bully sometimes,

but she hugged us and thanked us for helping and for playing with him. After they left, I remember feeling scared and a little guilty. Would he still be around if we hadn't told him to leave? And where could he have gone? I felt bad and I wanted to do something to help out, even though I was just a kid myself. It was getting late, and I knew the sun was setting because some people had flashlights. My sister and I were nosy with people walking around outside, so we went and sat outside on the porch. My parents wouldn't let us leave.

We were watching people talking and walking around, and that's when it really struck me that This was a full-blown missing person situation. Police were involved. They were looking everywhere. So what happened to him? And could it have happened to any of us? Turns out, it really could have been any of us. We were still on the porch, playing with a little snow up there

when we started hearing someone screaming. They were yelling, I need help. He's here. I found him. I remember seeing Tanner's dad running across the yard, down the street, looking down. Several other people followed him, and I started hearing more yelling in the distance. They ran around the corner of the street, and shortly after, we heard an ambulance. Something had certainly happened. With our parents walking toward the end of the street, we followed to see what was happening.

I watched Tanner's dad walk back down our street holding Tanner. I remember the fear that I felt as he carried him. He was limp. And when he turned him around to put him on the ambulance stretcher, his lips were a dark blue, and his skin was super white pale. They quickly loaded him up in the ambulance, and his mom jumped in with him as they drove away.

Tanner's dad said something to my dad, and the cop standing nearby, and then he got in his car and drove away too. We went back inside and it became a normal night from there for us at least. My mom was on the phone a few times, but otherwise I did my best to put Tanner in the back of my mind. But right before I went to bed, I remember crying. My mom asked me what was wrong and I told her about how I felt bad about Tanner and how I felt like it was partially our fault.

My mom explained that we weren't in trouble. None of us kids were, and that it was just a scary situation. I asked what happened to him, and she explained it to me. Apparently, at some point, after playing with us, Tanner ran off to do his own thing when he spotted one of those huge piles of snow. Of course, at our age, they were taller than us. It was like a mini mountain. Sometimes, we even got snow from them, but not often because they were typically pretty dirty

on the outside and hard to dig through. However, Tanner took it as a challenge, and he tried climbing it. He must have hit a soft spot toward the top and immediately fell through, leaving him stuck there and unable to get out. Now, this was all I knew at the time. My mom told me that they found him still alive, but he was very hurt. and she promised to tell me what happened to him whenever she found out more. I didn't see Tainer at school when we returned from our break.

In fact, he didn't come back for about a month, and he was limping too, trying to use a crutch. He didn't play outside at all either. When he did finally return, I was hesitant to approach him, thinking he may have been mad at me. I told my mom about him being at school, and she suggested that I talked to him and be supportive. So I did.

To my surprise, he was happy to talk to me. He seemed like old Tanner, but maybe a little less rambunctious. He actually explained to me how he climbed up that pile and was stomping on it when he fell through. He tried to dig his way out, but every time he moved, the snow packed around him more and more. He told me that he remembered being really, scared, cold, and tired.

Then he explained that he was using a crutch because they had to cut off two of his toes, and the tip of one of his fingers and one of his ears. As Tanner did, he had taken off his gloves and hats before he fell in. From then on, Tanner and I actually became pretty good friends. He was still a goof in class, but not nearly as crazy as he used to be. I think that this was all a pretty stark learning experience for him. It was still a pretty scary experience for me, knowing that we were all outside playing and even went in while he was buried in the snow.

I learned more about hypothermia and Tanner's experience when I was older. If he was in there much longer, he really could have died, and that was terrifying. Something all of us kids enjoyed every year could easily kill any of us. Thankfully, even with Tanner being a bit of a jerk of a kid, our neighborhood stuck together to look for him. Someone had noticed shoe prints around the pile, but no one apparently thought to look in the pile,

because it appeared undisturbed. But then someone noticed the prints on the side and the slightly indented top of it, and I think all of us are grateful that they actually checked it. Because if they hadn't, Tanner might not be here at all. Hello there, friends, Raven here. Welcome to the end of this episode of As the Raven Dreams.

I hope that you genuinely enjoyed this collection of scary stories, as I enjoyed putting them together for you. If the platform you're on has the option to follow the podcast or leave ratings or reviews, please do consider doing so as it helps the podcast grow. Of course, if you enjoy the content, that is. If you didn't enjoy it, then feel free to be. also leave a rating as honesty is important, and I take all feedback seriously.

Also, I do have a YouTube channel. It's a lot of the same content, but we do live streams on Saturdays around 6 p.m. Central, so if you're free one Saturday night and want to come over and say hi, I would love to have you there. We just kind of have a good time doing whatever we want for the few hours that I'm online. You can also join the Patreon, patreon.com slash as the Raven Dream for early access to all this content. Check out the website as the ravendreams.com for information and where you can listen to the podcast, find all my social media links, find the merch store, and send in your own stories to keep the podcast going as it pretty much exists on crowdsourced content at this point.

All of you really do keep the show going, so a huge thank you for that. Also on the website is information about the book that I wrote, titled The Insomniacs Experiment by Raven Adams. It's a psychological thriller, and I think it's pretty good. You might actually like it. Check it out. It's available on Amazon. Or if you want a signed copy, you can email me to see if I have any left, and I will absolutely oblige if I do. All that said, friends, I hope you have a lovely rest of your day. I hope I see you again here very soon. But until then, remember that you are loved. You are valid. You are important. And the world is a better place with you in it. Don't forget that. Until next time, much love.

and sleep well.