As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 247 - 8 True Scary Stories [Small Town & Moving Stories]

Episode Date: October 25, 2026

Today, on the 247th episode of the As The Raven Dreams podcast, we have 8 True Chilling stories. These stories come from the shadowy corners of reality, where everyday life takes an eerie twist & ordinary people experience the extraordinary. Today we will be diving into scary Small Town stories and stories about the horrors of Moving. Would you like to participate in the postcard exchange? It comes with a free ATRD Sticker! Just Send a post card to the following... Lucas PO BOX 8198 Rochester, MN 55903 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... ChaoticallyBeige, Maggie, Alex Getts, WormholeInOhio, Carla, Tommie M, CoastalBaby As Well As Any Author That Has Requested Anonymity. TimeStamps… Ad breaks after Story 1 & Story 4 1 ➤ 02:38 2 ➤ 11:43 3 ➤ 21:35 4 ➤ 35:07 5 ➤ 47:23 6 ➤ 59:23 7 ➤ 1:10:53 8 ➤ 1:13:05 ----- 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 #SmallTownHorrorStories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Join me and follow the podcast conspiracy theories, where we explore what's really going on behind the official narrative. Like, what if the Loch Ness monster isn't a monster at all, but an elephant? What do the richest 1% know that we don't? Why are they building all those bunkers? And really, what the heck is going on with the Denver airport? Join me every week to see just how high up this goes on the Spotify podcast, Conspiracy theories. Listen on Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts. Unlock unlimited free grocery delivery with PC Express Pass.

Shop online and get the same low No Frills prices delivered. Get your first year of PC Express Pass for just $2.50 a month. Learn more at no frills.ca. Hey there, friends. Hope you're doing well on this beautiful day. If you're not, hope it gets better for you, of course. Today we have a podcast episode, new stories. I know I haven't done many Dark Dreams episodes lately. Um, it's not really intentional.

It just kind of didn't fall in line with the schedule I was trying to create. And I did miss a couple episodes this last month. It's been a very busy month on all fronts. So just kind of missed them. But you got a lot of new stories coming up this week, and that's my intent at least. You got this one, you have a glitch episode later on. And then you also have some autumn and Halloween stories at the end of the week. I was an end of the month.

Well, technically it was also the end of the month too, but end of the week. week. So, uh, November we'll have normal Dark Dreams episodes, probably one every week. But yeah, I just noticed that I haven't, uh, haven't only done many of those this, this, this month. So, weird stuff. Anyway, today we have some small town and moving stories. It felt like those kind of went hand in hand. So hopefully you enjoy them. Also, weird question. Do you guys have any remedies for like dry mouth issues. I've been dealing with a dry mouth problem for like a week and a half, probably closer to two weeks at this point. Um, I, I brush my teeth. You know, I brush, floss, rinse with a mouthwash and so forth. And my oral hygiene is decent. Uh,

I checked on my teeth to make sure I didn't have like a cavity or something that could become infected. Oh, it looks okay to me. Um, it's not like a, uh, not. I'm not diabetic. I'm fine on that front. So it's definitely not like a dry mouth because it's more of a thirst thing too. The only thing I can think of is the air's gotten drier and it's causing some sinus issues. And maybe I'm like breathing with my mouth open more and not realizing it. And it's causing dry mouth. So I've got lozenges.

I've been drinking a lot of water. I also got like the xiltitol gum or whatever it is. That's silted all, silverthol, whatever. I got that too. I'm trying to avoid a doctor visit or a dental visit. I may have to do that though, but like, does anyone have any just recommendations? I also have a humidifier going to keep a human here, and it's just not doing it. I don't know.

I think I ended up with dry mouth, like, back at the beginning, and it just hasn't recovered, maybe? I don't know. I don't know. Just any thoughts or recommendations. I'll take them. Anyway, enjoy the stories, ignore my rambling. Sorry. And, yeah, much love.

Now that I'm back and in the safety of my home, I have a story that I need to share about. what happened to my wife and I on this road trip we took. We were driving out east to see our friends and celebrate their 10th year wedding anniversary. They got married here in Oklahoma, but they moved out of here a few years ago, and we had yet to visit them. We decided to make a whole trip out of it, to drive there, to do some sightseeing along the way and enjoy our time with our friends. The destination was West Virginia, so we had quite the drive ahead of us. We looked up some places to check out along the way and had it pretty well planned out. As it goes, the drive started out fine. In fact, most of the drive was.

But as we drove through Kentucky, my wife needed a restroom break and I wanted to grab something to eat anyways. Based on the signs, there was a city coming up soon, so we agreed to check it out. It should have screamed at us to keep going when we saw the population 2,100 sign, but it also seemed to attract us to the idea even more. We live in a larger city, so we always liked seeing smaller, more intimate little towns like that. We took the exit, turned left following the sign, and started just driving to see what we could find.

There was a very small gas station with a single pump outside, but we skipped it. We were wanting to find more of a mom-and-pop-style restaurant. Driving a bit further, we pulled into this little strip mall-style building. It looked single level and long, and there was a sign on the building at the end of the strip that said the name of a coffee shop with a coming summer of 2012 sign, and the inside was completely empty. A few more further down also looked empty, and then there was what looked like some kind of thrift store or antique store in the center.

It was like it was the main place, but I don't know. I'm pretty sure it also wasn't open. The door had a chain with a padlock on it. The windows looked extremely dusty, and everything inside looked stacked half-azardly, like it was more so being used for storage. We had parked at this point to look at the store. My wife is an antique junkie, so she actually wanted to take a look. It was honestly kind of eerie looking at the stuff in there.

We got back in the car and continued to drive around the building, to get back. to the entrance. But the back side of the building didn't look like the back of the same building. There were a few business signs on the back. The antique store had a small sign leaning against the wall that was something like the funky room or something like that. It was hard to read with how much it had faded and peeled, so I could be completely wrong. Then further down, there was an awning that actually looked in decent condition. It was all in one piece, but was, very faded. You could see the difference in colors from where the sun touched it and where it was shaded.

There was a small neon sign covered by the awning that spelled a first name. It was half lit, like part of it was busted. Again, some neon signs are hard to read when they aren't on, but it was definitely someone's name, like Arnie or Annie, maybe. There was a single table with four chairs around it that had a plate of something on it that we couldn't quite make out from the car. And best of all, they had one of those menu signs standing by the door, the ones where you write the daily specials or something. Across the top, it looked like a fun, happy template that said soup of the day, and the writing below it wasn't all caps and said, Pat, you ain't welcome here. And below Pat's message, it said fish sticks. This immediately got a good laugh out of both of us, and we wanted to check this place out.

The food on the table was clearly fresh, the sign was sort of on, and they wrote aggressive messages to customers, I think. Even if I got some microwave fish sticks, we agreed that the experience might actually be worth it. We parked, got out, and started walking to the door when it swung open by some very old man. He was wearing an eye patch, and the other eye looked very milky, but nevertheless, he made eye contact with us. We stepped out of the way and we watched him sit at the table and continue eating his plate of what we now think was fries. As we walked in, our senses were overloaded. The entire place was hazy from the cigarette smoke and it smelled like it too. There was very loud folk music playing and talking coming from every direction.

It was also very dark. There was a light over the bar and one dead center of the room and one in the back over what I think was a pool table. but that's about where our opinion of the place changed. There was a person here or there that looked over at us at the open door, but once they actually saw us, everyone's mood seemed to shift. People that were smiling or laughing would immediately drop to a scowl and stop talking. Some would nudge the person next to them who would then look over at us with the same reaction. Some whispered to another while maintaining eye contact.

Instant goosebumps. We definitely did not fit in. My wife has pastel pink hair and was wearing a bright sun dress. I was in shorts and a button-up shirt. Not a single person in there was wearing anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. Even the female bartender had jeans and a shirt with the flag on it, and her dark-colored hair was in a ponytail. She was carrying a plate of food when we walked in,

and she sat it down in front of a guy that was now facing us. I felt it was a little late to back out now, so I put my hand on my wife's back and started leading her in so we could find an inconspicuous table in the corner to stay the hell out of the way. We probably got a few feet in the door when the bartender said in a thick southern accent, Who are you looking for? Still, there was no one else talking, but her.

I responded that we were just wanting, to order food, if that was okay. And before I could even finish that sentence, she said, we ain't got food. My eyes immediately went to the plate that she had just sat down at the bar. She did not look at it. She did not explain herself or what it was. She just continued to stare at us. It was like she was daring me to bring it up.

My wife elbowed me slightly, her sign of let's get the hell out of here, and we turned around to start walking back to the door. And then, to amuse myself, I decided to ask if they had a restroom we could use. And all she said was, nope. One of the guys by the pool table stood up and started walking toward us, with his hand in his pocket. We quickly sped up, flung the door open, and we walked out. The man outside watched us all the way to the car as we got in. I immediately locked the doors and as we drove away, two more guys walked out that same door,

one of them holding a gun at his side. I told my wife to duck in her seat as I burned out of there. Now we both needed to use the restroom, and I was way too afraid to stop. We ended up finding a gas station at the next exit, which was in a different city, or at least a more populated one. The gas station looked a bit more modern too. if not a bit run down. But at the very least,

we didn't have people watching us the whole time we were in there. After we were out of Kentucky, I was feeling better about not being followed or anything, and we both had a good laugh about the experience. We definitely should not have tried

to enter a literal backdoor building, but with a light on and a semi-menu-style sign, we thought it was just really, really old fashioned. Again, my wife liked that kind of stuff. We told our friends about it once we got to their place, and they also found it amusing. We were finally back home, and we took the same way back, and we just stayed on the highway, driving right through that little town. I may not remember the name, but I won't ever forget the experience. And don't worry, Kentucky, I will not be going back.

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Please play responsibly. Consider about your gambling or that as someone close to you. Call 1866-531-2600 to visit connectsonterio.ca. Back in 2006, I was moving from one house to another in the next city over. The drive between them took about 40 minutes, and to be honest, it was time-consuming. I hate moving. I might be a guy, but I'm tall and lanky with almost no muscles, so I was easily worn out. Paring that with a 40-minute drive to think about having to then unload everything and eventually

unpack often made me a bit grumpy. I also drove a hatchback, nothing big, so. Throughout the week, I would move what I could in my car, but eventually, I was going to have to rent. a moving truck. Thankfully, I have an incredible friend named Pete. I've known Pete since we were kids in grade school. We got into a fight at school, just your standard child fight, and we were required to apologize as we sat in a room together.

Neither of us wanted to concede and apologize first, so instead we complimented each other's shoes. He had light-up ones, and I had neon-green shoelaces. From then on, when we pissed each other off, we just complimented each other in the stupidest ways. And that was our way of apologizing. But since then, Pete and I have been incredibly close. We were always at each other's homes. When we needed a place to crash, or wanted to celebrate or even mourn, we were there for each other.

I was his best man at his wedding and would eventually be his kid's godfather. So, of course, he was more than willing to help me in my move, and I was incredibly thankful for him. We set it up to rent a truck over the weekend, and he was going to help me with all the big stuff. In order to get some of it, we had to get the other stuff out, like the boxes and the bags that I hadn't moved yet. The truck that we got was pretty big, because they didn't have a smaller one for us, and we didn't want to try and look elsewhere, so we just took what they had to have.

happened to have available. Even with the large truck and trying to get it in my narrow driveway, we got it in there, and got it loaded up with all of the boxes and tubs and some of the larger things. Between the two of us, we got everything unloaded and against the walls, so we could then go back to get the larger items, like the couch, the bed, the entertainment center, the washer and dryer, and the deep freeze. There were some other items that were large, but not as heavy, more so just awkwardly shaped. This would basically be the bulk of it.

Afterwards, I would just have a few smaller things here and there and my cleaning stuff that I left to use before I handed over the keys. I could handle all of that on my own, but I was just incredibly grateful for Pete's availability and willingness to help me. We packed up the truck for a second time and drove back over to my house. I backed up into the driveway and we started to unload. We got a few things out, but when we struggled to get the giant entertainment center out, we stopped and had to try and reevaluate how we were going to get this into the house.

The garage was not attached, so we couldn't even use it. Ultimately, we decided it would be easiest to remove the screen door and squeeze it through the front. Based on the measurements, it would just fit. So, I started to take off the screen door, and Pete was going to adjust my parking job so it was better angled toward the door, giving us a better straight shot. As I worked on the door, I realized I didn't have the right screw bits, and I went back toward the driveway, to the garage, to go through my toolbox. It was the perfect timing, or rather, the worst. I got to my driveway and realized the truck door was still open. Unfortunately, the glass part of the entertainment center as well as the glass coffee table

was leaning against the wall and was hanging out just enough to cause a slight panic in me. I went to walk up to the truck, thinking I would be fine to jump in while he was moving it, but I was way wrong. I went to take that large step up, and my foot slipped, making me lose my balance. I slipped, and I busted my chin on the back, which was bad enough. Then I finally started to get back on my feet, and I knew that I needed to tell Pete to stop. I needed to at least shut the door before he went over the curb at the end of the driveway because I feared when he hit that, the furniture would bounce and possibly break or fall out. But everything seemed to go too fast around me and before I could react, the truck was rolling

back toward the house, toward me. In my mind, I didn't know what to do. It's like if you've ever been in an accident that you saw coming, you kind of just freeze. Do you scream? Do you close your eyes and wait for the collision? I got as far as yelling at Pete, but the truck kept rolling toward me. It may seem like this was a long time, but I want to remind you that this was all within seconds. I slipped, started to get up and go to the side when I saw the truck coming at me, but by then it was all too late. I yelled, but it didn't do any good because his window was up.

And before I knew it, the tire caught my foot. I couldn't move, and the tire went right over it. The pain was excruciating, and I screamed for him to stop. Finally, the truck stops, and I can just barely see Pete in the side mirror. He was looking toward the house initially and then turned to look toward the right. I was waving my arm to get his help, but he seemed to think that he had stopped the truck on me, so he pulled the truck back forward, running back over my leg and pinching the skin. He opened the door and I yelled at him to pull it forward, so he once again had to start the truck to do so.

After he moved it, he jumped back out and ran to my side with his hands on his head, freaking out. I told him that my leg was definitely broken, as it was already changing colors, so he helped me into his car and took me straight to the hospital. They immediately got me in a room at the hospital and started prepping me for surgery. They had taken x-rays and showed me where the bone had broken. But once they had me back there, they realized it was worse than they had thought. The skin had been pinched long enough that it had practically died, and part of the bone of my leg was completely crushed. The doctor explained that fixing it would be very difficult because of how the bone was basically pulverized.

rather than just a clean break. With my reluctant approval, I agreed to amputation. It was below the knee, so it wasn't the entire leg, but I was still losing part of a limb. I won't lie, I was very upset at first. Your life changes dramatically when you lose a limb. I had to basically learn how to walk again with a walker or crutches until I got a prosthetic. I wasn't exactly a fit person. Like I said, I didn't work.

out or play any sports regularly, but just my normal day to day, like going to the basement to do laundry or walking around at work, or even going to the grocery store, became a lot more of a chore for me, and it took me a while to adjust. But I know that I wasn't alone in these thoughts. Pete was hurting, too. He was carrying around a lot of guilt since he had run me over. He made sure I was okay at the hospital, but then went back to my house and had his brother help him unload the truck and turn it in. He helped me move around stuff as I wanted it in my new home, and even helped me unpack some days. He felt horrible, and I could tell, but it was an accident. I was stupid enough to try and move around a large truck with obvious blind spots. I was more to blame than he was. I was

upset about my leg, or lack of one, but I wasn't upset with Pete in any way. I expressed this with him, too, but it didn't stop him from still feeling guilty. Eventually, I did get through my therapy. I got my prosthetic fitted and started walking on it again, and life got better. Some days, I don't even think about my leg being removable until I get ready for bed or someone brings it up. It's just a part of me. Pete's even gotten past the guilt as well. In fact, right on par with something he would do, the Christmas the following year after the accident, he bought me one of those goofy leg lamps, saying that the least he could do was get me a new leg. And it's still sitting in my living room to this day.

Hi Raven. My name is Carla, and I wanted to share a story about the last place my girlfriend Destiny and I lived at. We moved from a tiny apartment into a house that we were renting in the spring of 2019, and we were pretty excited about it. Destiny moved into my apartment after we got pretty serious, but it just wasn't big enough for two people's entire lives. I don't regret it because her living situation was not stable, and I was concerned for her safety. So, we waited for the lease to be up and found a new place.

The house wasn't anything extravagant. It was a simple, two-bedroom, one-and-a-half bath with a basement, but it was perfect for us. Moving started out fine. It was only about 20 minutes drive from the complex we used to live at, so we could get a lot done in a day. As we were unloading the truck, we had a few neighbors watching us, and a pair of kids across the street waved at us. Then we saw our immediate neighbor to our right. We later learned that his name was Joe. We saw Joe for the first time as we were unloading the truck.

He was walking to his mailbox, which was attached to the fence at the start of the yard. All of the yards were fenced in the same way. I haven't looked into it yet, but I think these houses may have been a community thing or something because they're not the fancy cookie cutter houses, but they all do kind of look the same. They're also individually owned, as we didn't go through a company to get the place, but a sole person. Anyway, he was getting his mail, wearing his slippers, and something I would normally sleep in, and he just stopped and stared at us on the sidewalk. When I noticed him, I waved, but he just grimaced and kept walking to his mailbox, not acknowledging whatsoever.

I looked at Destiny, and without speaking, we both just kind of shrugged and moved on. We continued with unloading until later that night. Then we went to pick up pizza to have our first dinner in our new place, and as Destiny was unlocking the door, I saw Joe sitting out on his porch, once again just watching us. I tried to be polite, and I waved again greeting him. That time, he waved back. I made a comment about it being a nice night, and he just asked if we bought the place. I told him no, but said that we were renting, and his response was, both of you? Like, he was surprised by it. I said that was correct, and he asked me why we didn't just buy the place.

Um, because it wasn't for sale. I thought it was a weird question, but I told him that the owner was renting it out and that we weren't looking to buy. Then he said that these houses couldn't be rented out, and then mumbled something else under his breath. What did he mean they couldn't be rented? I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just told him to have a good night and follow destiny. It was kind of a strange interaction, but it is what it is. We talked about what he said for a moment, and the whole not being able to be rented thing did cross our mind. We gave the owner bank statements and pay stubs for proof of income and a deposit.

There was a slight worry that all of this could have been a scam. Maybe the real owner might show up any day and put us in a bad situation, so we agreed to talk to the person about it as soon as they were available. Thankfully, the owner actually showed up the next day to do something in the basement. He told us about the waterline he was going to replace in the fridge, so while he was there, we told him about the neighbor. I didn't want to seem accusatory, but I hinted at the neighbor claiming that we weren't supposed to be renting the place to see if he understood what he meant. The owners were actually an older couple that owned several properties, and they seemed like very nice people, so I didn't want to seem like I was causing problems already.

But the owner, Dave, said that he wasn't surprised. That's when we learned his name was Joe, and he said that even when he first bought the place, Joe was always a cranky old man, but promised that he was all bark. He also assured us that he went through the proper channels to get a renter's license. That was when we found out about the other places they owned. I was pretty confident that Dave and his wife were legit and that we were safe. It was sounding like we were just going to have a grumpy neighbor, and, well, so be it. We continued with our move the next day, and I had my dad and brother come over to help us with a few of the big

items we had. To my surprise, I came outside and saw Joe chatting it up with my dad. He didn't look happy, per se, but he was at the fence just talking to him, and I hadn't told my dad about Joe yet. They helped unload the truck otherwise, and my dad offered to take us all out for dinner, so we locked up and piled into his SUV. When we got back, we were awake and had our second wind in us, so Destiny and I decided to go back and try to get the last of our stuff. That way, the next day, all we would need to do is clean the place up. We got back to our new place around 7 p.m., so we were losing daylight. As we were unloading, I was inside moving some things around when Destiny called for me.

She had the slight upward inflection like something was wrong, so I went to find her. She was at the front door and said that there were two cops that just pulled into our driveway. Strange, but we went outside to see what was going on. The two officers approached us and asked how we were doing. That's when they said they were called about a noise complaint. We were both shocked. We weren't even being loud. Confused, we pointed to the obvious truck with a few items still in it and said that we were just moving in.

We weren't yelling and didn't even have music playing. We were literally walking from the truck to the house just carrying boxes. I think the loudest thing we did was open the truck lift because, yeah, that's always loud. But it was 7 p.m. It's not like we were doing this in the middle of the night. The officers didn't seem to think it was a big deal either and just explained that they had to make an appearance, make sure everything was okay and do the whole try to keep it down, spiel. but they agreed that we weren't doing anything wrong.

They apologized for bothering us, congratulated us on the new house, and left, leaving us wondering who the hell had called it a noise complaint. We unloaded the truck but became very dramatic about every noise that we made, basically constantly shushing each other trying to make light of the situation. Little did I know that that was just the tip of the iceberg. If you haven't guessed, the noise complaint came from Joe, and he progressively got worse over time. He liked to put little notes in our mailbox about how we weren't allowed to do this, and we had to do things like that.

He said that we had to keep our trash bins in the garage, not next to it. There was literally a cement slab next to the detached garage where the trash bins sat when we moved in. and a lot of people did the same. He also told us that we couldn't park on the street and called the cops on us for it. We lived on the south side of the road, which was the side that you were allowed to park on. We had a small driveway like every other house, so it was easier for one of us to park on the street so that we didn't bother the other to move our cars all the time. I haven't mentioned it yet, but there was no HOA in that area.

There were no rules that we had to follow for them either. This was just Joe being nitpicky about someone else's house. He saw us carrying in paint cans and actually ran out of the house to tell us that we weren't allowed to paint the place without a permit. This was about six months into us living there, and I was so fed up with him that I told him that we had gotten permission from the owners to paint it, and that it was none of his damn business. He seemed appalled that I would talk to him like that. which, to be honest, felt nice. His response to my outburst was to try to sue us.

I don't know how it really happened, but we were served papers, and then Dave called us to tell us he got something in regards to the property and asked us what was going on. I told him that we had no idea. Thankfully, Dave said he would handle it, and it was dismissed or dropped. Joe tried claiming something about us damaging his property, but he had no physical proof and just kept talking about how what we were doing was decreasing the value of his property.

It was a crazy accusation, but from what Dave explained to us, it was dropped pretty much immediately. Since suing us didn't work, he tried to be more hands-on with his threats. He would walk outside every time we were out there. Even when we were outside just enjoying the night, he would go out back and just stand there with a his arms crossed and watched us. When the intimidation tactics didn't work, he decided to get physical with it. We had planted sunflower seeds along the fence line, again, something Dave had given us permission to do.

Once they got taller than the fence, he hacked them all down. Some of them were already blooming, so not only were they not on his property line, they were clearly not a weed. I was just walking outside to grab a package that was delivered overnight. when I saw our poor sunflowers. I went to look at them, which is when I learned they had been deliberately hacked down. Unfortunately for him, we had a ring camera and we caught him doing it. I was livid, and honestly, I was tired of him.

He was the only person on the block we had problems with. We weren't close with all of our neighbors, but we at least got along. I didn't know what the hell his problem was and why he seemed to hate. us. He'd walked outside as I was checking the camera and I just lost it. I yelled at him, demanding to know why he did it. He tried to claim it wasn't him until I showed him the video on my phone. Mind you, this was around 2020 during the lockdown, so I was in my yard, nowhere near him, pointing my phone at him and saying we have him on camera. He marched to our yard, and I told him he was not allowed to enter our property. Well, he opened the gate and entered anyway.

I went to the porch and told him that he needed to leave or else I would call the cops. He continued to approach, and I turned around to open the door and yell at Destiny to call the police. As I walked in, he was holding the door, so I couldn't close it, and started grabbing it anything he could. He would not leave, and I was kind of freaking out. He had managed to knock my phone out of my hand, grab it, and threw it on the concrete. he walked away and back into his house.

Once he was gone, I went to grab the pieces of my phone and went back inside to wait for the cops. We told them what had happened, and showed them the footage of the sunflowers and then him trespassing, taking my phone and breaking it. Too bad for him, it wasn't all saved on my phone. We did press charges, and we called to let Dave know what had happened, too. He was shocked and apologetic, saying, he had never seen Joe get violent.

He explained how he was very grumpy about things that he did to the home, too, like the color of siding he chose for the house, but he also told him he didn't care what he thought. He explained how the last people that rented the house complained about him too, but he had never escalated things to that extent. I wasn't mad at Dave for what Joe did, but I did feel like I needed to tell him since it did happen on his property. Ultimately, Joe was charged for property,

property damage and trespassing. It seemed to bruise his ego, and he had to pay us back for it because we rarely saw him after that. He seemed to actually avoid us. He may have been outside mowing or something and one of us would leave or go get the mail, and he would just go inside until we were gone. It was honestly kind of funny. I hate that it had come to what it did, but at least he finally learned he couldn't bully people.

We still live in the same house, and Dave and Marge have been great. We've actually considered buying it from them, as they mentioned wanting to get out of property management. We just might have to continue dealing with an angry passive neighbor for a while, because I don't think either of us are willing to give up our homes. Did anyone else have that one neighbor that everyone talked about and everyone knew? My story today is about the one that I grew up around. He lived in a pretty small city.

It consisted of one elementary school and one middle school, and the high school was in the next town over. I guess a lot of the adults in that town thought school stopped at middle because there weren't many that went to high school, including my parents. I'm pretty sure the town doctor was the only one that actually completed some form of college, if that gives you any indication of how big the city was. Anyway, back to the real subject, the story, which was our neighbor Harry. Harry actually lived two houses down from us, but he was still on the same block. Everyone knew Harry and his family. He was single, always had been, I think, and lived at home with his own parents. I think around the time that I was a kid in school, he was probably in his 50s or so.

I say this, because I thought that he was old. and a child's idea of old, keep in mind, and his parents were even older. I'd met them a few times when they were outside, and they were all nice people. His mom always called me Hot Rod because I was always flying around on my bike. His dad would give me the rubber bands off his newspaper because I liked to collect them. When we went trick-or-treating, we always stopped at their place because they gave full bags of M&Ms, which were my favorite as a kid. Sadly, as it goes, Harry's mom would pass away, and I remember my parents mentioning it in passing.

Us kids were in the living room watching TV when I heard my parents talk about it. I remember the adults being sad and talking about it at the grocery store. Like, oh, did you hear about the watermen's poor things? That kind of conversation went on for a while, but then everyone moved on. The grief seemed to lift, and, like, went back to normal. I continued to see Harry and his dad on occasion, but it seemed that Harry only became more... eccentric? This is when Harry became more of a known name in the town.

He was loved by some, tolerated by most, and hated by others. Us kids were usually the ones that loved Harry. He was goofy, like us. He would try to skateboard with us, and while he could balance on the board, he couldn't do any trick. That always made us laugh when he failed. He liked to give us all code names, and when he saw us, it was always like a narrator introducing us as an important character. Let me tell you, that does something to a kid's ego, and I always adored it.

There were some things about Harry that were a little strange, though. One of the things I noticed was his collections that he kept in the yard. He had a lot of dolls all over the place. baby dolls, Barbies, even mannequins of different sizes. The mannequins were all fully dressed, even the ones that were just the bust. He seemed to find legs that he could attach. He had the styrofoam heads attached as well, and typically had a wig, hat, sunglasses, and a face painted on. The faces were definitely uncanny, but I remember that Harry was just being weird with it.

I am a girl, and I remember thinking, well, of course, Of course, Harry's a boy, he doesn't know how to do makeup. That was about the extent of my thoughts, in the beginning. And I will add that there was nothing creepy about the dolls and mannequins. They weren't hanging in the trees or messed up or burnt or destroyed. They would just be tarnished due to the rain and other elements, but they were otherwise well-maintained and dressed. But apparently, the adults didn't like it and were starting to like Harry less and less.

I remember being told not to talk to him. The bus stop was at the corner of our street towards Harry's place. One time I stopped and talked to Harry when he was outside adding a dress to a new mannequin. My mom was walking to the stop to meet me when she saw me talking to him and she yelled at me. I remember jumping and she demanded that I move along. I remember Harry becoming upset and he had one of the most creative insult he threw at my mom, but I won't repeat it here. After that, we were all told to stop talking to him,

and when we asked why, the answer was because we said so. And that was that. I think Harry knew what was happening. Because while he still was never mean to us kids, he still didn't talk to us like he used to. He would see us and smile at us, but whenever I would try to wave, he wouldn't respond. So that's how a lot of us stopped talking to Harry.

But he wouldn't stay out of the spotlight for long. Over time we did see him less and less, he became more reclusive and more people talked about the weird house with the mannequins, and wanted to make up stories about the guy that lived there. But not everyone believed those stories, particularly the ones that knew Harry before and those that knew he wasn't the only person living there. His father still lived there with him, but no one had seen or heard from him in some time. As I mentioned, he used to sit on the porch, but he slowly stopped doing that after his wife passed away, and we just never really saw him after that.

Then, there was the day when I got off the bus at my stop, and my mom was already there to meet me. It was a surprise because she didn't usually walk me to the stop or meet me there, especially then, because at the time I was 13. It was unusual, but as we walked by Harry's house, I kind of. kind of understood. There were several cop cars in the driveway, and on the streets, there was a large black SUV and a white van. I asked my mom what was going on, and she very quickly said, I don't know. I was familiar with that tone. That was when she didn't want to let me in on something, like it was an adult thing or a secret, so I just didn't push it. I didn't push it, because I knew that I would eventually be able to eavesdrop and find out,

what happened. Surprisingly, they managed to not give much away when they talked, which did irritate me. The most I had heard was that Harry's dad had passed away, or most likely, had. He was older, and his wife was already gone, so it made sense to me. I assumed that my mom walked me back home, so I didn't see anything, maybe. But it turns out a lot of people, or I guess I should say us kids, had a lot of theories floating around the school. I remember asking my parents one day about it, asking what happens to Harry because we just never saw him after that. They refused to acknowledge me or my question, which definitely frustrated me more. My parents were the type to just not tell us anything that could be slightly unpleasant, and it drove me crazy, because it was

obvious that they were lying. But there was nothing I could do, but just accept it. I filed away the rumors that I heard at school, ignored my parents' fake explanations, and accepted that we were just never going to see Harry again, and that's exactly what happened. Their yard was slowly emptied from all the displays. I actually missed the bus one day because I snuck in the yard and grabbed one of the Barbie dolls, stuffing it quickly into my bag. I don't think my parents ever noticed or questioned the weird doll that sat on my dresser after that. Eventually, there were boards put up on the windows, and several papers stuck to the front door. Then, one day, the family that lived in the little gray house became a fading memory until no one talked about them anymore, including myself.

I finished high school, moved out of our little congested town, and began my life. Now, as an adult, I visit my parents regularly who still live in the same house. They still like to update me on the others that live there, including their kids or grandkids. I don't remember what it was, but something was said that reminded me of Harry. Now, an adult, I asked my parents, whatever happened to him. And my mom acted shocked that I didn't know, joking about how I always seemed to find out about those things. she was right, but apparently that seemed to be the town's best-kept secret. Because of all the things I heard at school, we never actually guessed what really happened. The truth was that Harry's father

had died, but it was not the day that my mother had walked me home. That was just the day they found him. Apparently, his father had actually died literally months prior. I will say that he died of natural causes, Harry did not kill him or anything. However, he did keep him there to continue to collect his benefit checks. Harry didn't work, or at least not that I ever saw, beside the odd job here or there. He kept his father in his bedroom, put cardboard on his windows, and used that expanding foam on the door to keep it closed and sealed. Unfortunately, for Harry, the neighbor next to them that faced his father's window, started to grow suspicious, because she was good friends with him and was concerned that she hadn't seen him for a while. They tried to do a welfare check,

but Harry turned them away with various excuses. It wasn't until his father was due for some kind of appointment or meeting with someone, that they had to be firm. They demanded to see his father, and then Harry snapped. They had to restrain him before they could finally go inside the home and find him. Backup was called, the coroner was called, obviously, which is when all the phone calls started being made. My mom got one of those calls, so she had walked up to his place to watch the scene. She was only there to pick me up because she was already close to the stop. But there it was. The town's darkest secret now sitting out in the open, and I kind of regretted asking. because I liked Harry.

He was always fun to be around until people started shunning him, and he became less and less of the happy person he was. I wonder if it was the town that led him to become that way. Would he still have done what he had done to his dad? I don't know, but even though the thought of living in the same house as your deceased father creeped me out, I still did kind of feel bad for Harry. He went to prison for some time, clearly, and my parents heard about when he got out, too, but he never came back to the town.

No one knows where he ended up, but I'm sure that's exactly what he wanted. He probably wanted to start over with whatever time he had left and not have the whole neighborhood in his business. People may not agree with my opinions, but I do hope that he's at least at peace now, and I hope that he was finally able to grieve both of his parents and somehow live a better life. Unlock unlimited free grocery delivery with PC Express Pass. Shop online and get the same low No Frills prices delivered. Get your first year of PC Express Pass for just $2.50 a month. Learn more at nofrills.ca.

I want to start by saying that I'm in my 40s now, so this was quite some time ago. but this is about the little village that I grew up in as a kid. And to be honest, I didn't think it was strange at all until I left that place. It wasn't until I talked about my childhood with friends that I realized just how wrong I was. I don't want to give a location because there are still people that live there that would link back to me, but I will confirm that it was not in the States. A lot of people ask me that. My parents have been there most of their lives and actually are still there.

I was born there and remained there until I left for college, so it was literally all that I knew. For the good parts, being that it was the only world that I knew, it was peaceful. Everyone greeted one another, they helped each other out. It really did seem like those old school movies where you see the women carrying bags of groceries and the young kid rushing to help or put them in the car. I loved helping people like that. A lot of people gave away beaded bracelets as a thank you or a great job, and I loved it. I loved collecting them.

My parents scheduled regular events with friends involving having dinner together or playdates for us kids. I would come home from school on Fridays, and my mom would often have a bag started for me telling me that I was going to go stay with a friend for the weekend. I was never upset about it either. I loved being with my friends, especially the ones that had cooler stuff than we did. School was even good. I liked the classes, enjoyed the job roles that we did each year in class. We celebrated all the normal holidays, too.

School would be closed, we'd spend time at home with family, the normal things. We even had a yearly village celebration that we all enjoyed. There was a lot of food, music, and dancing. Us kids would play games, and we would always invent new ones to play. It all truly seemed like we were just a close-knit village. But the older I got, the more I started seeing the cracks in the walls. I started to get bored. There wasn't much to do in our little town, and I wasn't really allowed to do anything outside of it.

Our school had a few sports, but none of them had any rivalry or competitions with other schools. It was just always our schools splitting into two different teams. I snuck out one time with a few friends who had taken some money from their parents and crossed the village lines into another one. We bought a few drinks, and we sat out in a field passing around the bottles until we went home. Unfortunately, that small town was my downfall because there was always somebody watching. My parents found out the next day, and I got in trouble.

They didn't like the idea of me leaving the village, mentioning how it could be dangerous. But they also asked about if I was involved with anyone. They thought that I snuck off to be with a love interest. That was the part that they were most convinced about. They had a rule that if I showed any interest in anybody, I needed to tell them who it was first. It was like they had to determine if we would even be compatible. And my parents weren't the only ones like that.

Everyone's parents did the same thing. It was a common conversation at school. Like, oh, he's really cute, but my parents told me no. Again, it seemed pretty normal to me at the time because everyone did it. The closer to graduation we got, the more impatient. I became. I was ready to go off on my own and I wanted to study astronomy. Those nights out with friends were some of my favorite things, and I loved just watching the stars. I loved reading all the books that I could find in our little library about them too. There was

no local college, so I would have to leave the village to further my education. Unlike many parents that would normally be supportive of their children wanting to go to college, my parents were very hesitant. They asked several times why I wanted to go through with more schooling. Because I'm a woman, they both agreed that I didn't need to, and suggested that I'd just get a job with my mom helping out at the school. But I didn't want that. I wanted to learn something we barely touched on in school. I wanted to see outside of our little town, so I stood my ground and told my parents that I would be leaving regardless of what they wanted me to do. My parents refused to help me get a car, clearly trying anything they could to hold me back,

but I had a friend that did have a car, and she wanted out just as much as I did. We promised to not leave each other behind, at least not until we were out. When we turned 18, we took trips to the closest town, which was almost 40 to 50 minutes away. They had a larger library, and we used the computers there to find schools and jobs to get us. us by. Thankfully, I found a college with a program that I was interested in, and I applied. My friend and I also applied to the few stores and food shops to get us some sort of income. I got a job at a grocery store, and my friend got one as a front desk clerk. She had some experience helping her mother at her position since she was 17, so I think that gave

her an upper hand. We also found a really cheap apartment that we were renting. We explained that we didn't have any money at the time, and our situation, and the owner was at least willing to work with us. The place was left a mess, and he told us that if we cleaned it, we could move in with no fees or first month's rent. It was a pain, but it also wasn't too bad since the place was small. Thus began our new life of being on our own and how quickly we began to realize just how strange our hometown really was. One of the first things was the annual celebration that we had in the village. I expected school to be closed that day, but it wasn't, and I got a message about missing class. I remember going to the class the following week and questioning why we still had class,

but the teacher acted like he had never heard of the celebration. I tried to explain it, but I just remember him dismissing it and mentioning something about how religious celebrations didn't stop classes. It was strange to me because it wasn't religious. We were led to believe that it was for the country. Then, there was the realization after talking to my friend that I met in school. She mentioned her boyfriend and how long she had been with him, and it circled back to me. I said something about how my parents had turned down my choices, and she mentioned them being very picky.

That's when I brought up the process of telling them anyone I was interested in, and she looked genuinely perplexed. My explaining it further only seemed to confuse her more. She said that her parents had never done that, and that she had never met anyone that did. She started asking more questions about it, so I had to explain the entire process to her. At first, her thoughts were similar to mine, and that maybe everyone was very specific, on who could date whom because of things like family status or something. But based on some of the things my parents asked for and lack of other things, it didn't really seem to fit. Rarely did they ask anything more than full name and their date of birth.

From there, my friend from college and I spent some more time talking about my childhood. I told her about the celebration and I'll never forget her first response to it. That sounds like some weird cult stuff. And at first we laughed, and then we got serious, and she broke down the celebration more. Keep in mind, I left when I turned 18, so I was only ever part of the children's side of things. When I turned 16, I was able to help with the entertaining of the younger ones, but I was never part of the adult side. As kids, we played games while the older kids hosted them. We started with our families, all sitting on the grounds in a large field.

Afterwards, all of the adults, who were all in robes, read for the men and women in white, would go into the community building and none of the kids were allowed to be in there. We remained in the field playing games. My friend was pointing out how strange this was, and that she had never heard of any normal holiday that was celebrated in that way. Once I stepped back and thought about it, She was absolutely right, which then made us think back to the dating, how secretive the adults were about some things, being hesitant to let me leave. It all just added to the evidence. It gave me time to think about things.

I went back to my friend slash roommate, and we talked about it together. She had also never attended anything with the adults. She was the same age as me. but she did mention how she wasn't feeling good one time and went to find her mom to tell her that she wanted to go home. She had managed to sneak away and went to the community center. She walked in and right at the entrance in the little lobby, there were several women standing there in their robes and masks. She said they all looked over at her at the same time

and it scared the hell out of her and that she ran away. I was the only person she had ever talked to about it. I had no idea what they did in there. And that's when it really dawned on us that our families, our little town that we grew up in, might be part of a cult. It was like learning how to live all over again. The things people did and do outside of our village are completely different. And while it was overwhelming at times, it was also a good experience.

I went and visited my family once since then on a holiday, and I confronted them. They were very vague and short, not wanting to tell me more about it. The only thing I got out of them was about the dating, where they explained they did that to make sure no one was dating someone they were related to. Because so many people stayed in the village, more and more people ended up related. And that alone was a scary thought. We got into a fight, trust was broken, and our relationships kind of for.

fractured. I left there on bad terms, and I haven't been back since. My parents haven't even tried to reach out to me since then. So that's the story of this weird cult town that I came from, and as far as I know, they still exist, but it's not as prevalent as it once was. Technology has worked against them more and more, and kids are leaving them behind, and it makes me happy to know that. As bad as it sounds, I hope that the elders will all just slowly pass away, leaving that creepy society behind so everyone else can move on. The scariest thing that ever happened to me didn't involve a person or creature at all, but more so my home itself. My husband and I were going to be moving out of state due to a new position my husband was offered.

We really contemplated the move because we'd always lived in the same state, and both of our families were there too. However, the job was a huge step up for him, and while he was nervous about moving in the house hunting process, I could tell that he really wanted this position. So, I was in support of the move so that he could pursue his dream career. It made me happy to see him excited for it. We started looking for houses in the new area, but we were currently renting, so we had to find something that worked for us that we could get before our lease was up. We looked online and booked a weekend full of tours so that we could see as much as we could while we were there. We saw a few dream homes that were out of our budget, and two that were a no as we walked in. But we did finally land on one that was perfect for us.

There were minor hiccups on the application, but otherwise it all went well. We went through the inspector, and all he pointed out was cosmetic things for the most part. He said the furnace would probably need to be replaced within the decade, but that was about it. I know that we were both excited about the potential. We loved the idea of doing little renovations to make it our own, so we were okay with the sighting being a little chipped or a dent in a random door. It was going to be ours. Once everything was finalized, we started the moving process. Since we were moving out of state, we had family coming over to help us pack, but the moving and unloading was all on us. The first trip went smoothly. I think it was the

excitement of getting our own place and starting this whole new thing. We left early in the day, so we got to the house with time to unload the truck. We did not, however, have our bed moved, so we stayed in a hotel that night. The second trip we made sure to pack our air mattress so that we could at least sleep in our new home, but of course those aren't ever as comfortable as your own bed or even a hotel bed. After that weekend, we had to work, so we did our best to pack more and clean up as we went. We had completely emptied the basement and the spare room, which made things easier because now everything was on the same floor. But as you explained your own experience with moving several hundred miles away, Raven, which I can totally empathize with you,

with an eight-hour drive one way each time we were exhausted and just ready to be done with it. We were on our last leg. We had one last trip to take with all the little boxes and trash bags of random things that you don't know what to do with, but you know that you don't want to part with them. We fit what we could in my husband's truck, not wanting to rent another U-Haul. I would also have to drive my husband's truck, and I wasn't comfortable with doing that alone.

Anything we couldn't fit, which wasn't much, we gave to our neighbors, friends, family, or left it out for the trash. At that point, we really didn't care anymore. We cleaned up the town home and then dropped the keys off at the office before leaving. It was after they had closed for the day, so we just had to leave them there. Because we had slowed down significantly, we got on the road late. We figured we would be okay with trading off, but I was already dozing while my husband was driving.

The problem with that was that he was also getting tired. We decided to be safe and just pull off to a rest stop and sleep either for the night or maybe a few hours to get a second wind in a us. You wouldn't think two adults trying to sleep in a truck would be very comfortable, hence it wasn't. But we were tired enough that we were both out the minute we parked and pulled our sweaters up for a makeshift pillow. We woke up the next morning, used the rest-stop facilities, and then got back on the road to finish up the last three hours. That's where everything went bad. The closer we got to our house, the more we could see some smoke in the air. We didn't think much of it, just something you saw on occasion, especially as we were shifting to fall.

Maybe more people were burning, even though it was still kind of early. But then my husband pointed out the smell, that it was more like treated wood, and he said something about hoping no one's house was on fire. The closer we got to our street, the stronger the smell. As soon as we turned, my stomach dropped. In front of our home were two fire trucks. a cop car, a van, and a bunch of people. Our home, our brand new home, was blackened and charred on the outside. My husband stopped the truck on the side of the road, and a cop approached the truck getting

ready to tell us that we needed to move it. We explained that this was our home, to which he apologized and then asked to talk to us. We had to stand outside and give them our contact information and answer a bunch of questions. I could see the curiosity, maybe even some suspicion, but also pity on their face as they talk to us. Brand new home and it catches fire and everything is now gone. Apparently our new neighbor had called for help when he heard the smoke alarms. He went to look at our house and saw flames in the upstairs window. He knew the house had been sold but of course didn't know us yet, didn't even know our names and certainly didn't have our contact.

didn't have our contact information. They were in the works of tracking us down, but they hadn't gotten that far yet. They were still making sure that the fire was completely out. We had to go stay at a hotel. We clearly couldn't stay in our new house, and we had no place to go back to at our old place. Our lease was over, and we turned in the keys. Besides, we needed to stay close in case they needed us for anything. We stayed at the same hotel that we went to the first time, now with completely different emotions. As it stood at the time, we were homeless.

We had just moved all of our stuff into that house, our clothes, electronics, furniture, all of it. We had the stuff in the truck, which consisted mostly of cleaning supplies and old decorations. There was a single duffel bag that had clothes in there for when we stayed at our old place, one last time. We were devastated and we obviously wanted answers. What had caused the fire? Everything after that was a nightmare, honestly. Thankfully, we did have insurance before we signed off on the house.

It's a requirement. But the amount of hoops that we had to jump through with them was awful. I get it. We had just bought this home and then there was a fire and now you're making a claim. But we weren't even home. and it had happened during the night that we were in a different state. We had to find an extended stay while everyone else did their inspections and assessed the damage. I had to take extra time off work because my work stuff was in our new house,

so they had to send me all new equipment. My husband lost his stuff too, but he at least had a physical location that he could go into work. Which left me in this low when I was alone in the hotel. We were trying to save money to pay for the place, so we got a few outfits to cycle through. Very thankful for the laundry facilities in the hotel. We survived on microwaved meals or anything that we could make in a single pot. I had used my large stock pot to store stuff in, so I actually had that in the truck. Finally, after all the inspections were completed, we got the details in how the fire started,

and they walked us through the next steps. The fire marshal and investigator determined that it was an electrical fire. There was apparently some faulty wiring behind an old panel that was initially chalked up to being cosmetic. I remember walking through with the inspector and then mentioning how it looked like there was once an issue with it, but it had been replaced, so it was okay now. We didn't think anything of it, but it was on the inside that was the problem. It was arcing or something along those lines, and that's what actually caused the fire. I was so upset that it wasn't something caught prior, that neither of us thought to question it further, but honestly, why would we?

We didn't know anything about electrical issues, and the inspector was telling us that this was a non-issue. Then, there was the whole salvaging and rebuilding part. We were invited back on the property to be there as the same. they pulled things out so that we could inventory and determine what was salvageable. That was painful. The fire actually started in the spare bedroom, which is where we had put a lot of our things to keep them out of the way for the moment. All of our photos and important paperwork were destroyed.

It ended up spreading to our bedroom, and it got part of our bed and a lot of our clothes. It made its way to the bathroom and part of the kitchen, where they finally got it out. It was a one-story house with the basement. We were able to keep some of our kitchen stuff and some things from the living room, but the boxes we had sorted out by room were basically destroyed. We were devastated and still didn't have a clue where that left us at that moment. In all the stress and loss, we finally had some relief. The insurance determined that the inspector should have identified the issues that caused the fire

and at least reported it for us to make that decision. They were going to be paying to help rebuild the house and our living expenses in the meantime. It was time-consuming because they had to basically start from the ground up, but a silver lining is that we practically got a brand-new house. Insurance helped us replace things too, which took a lot of stress off of us. Overall, I would not wish what happened on my worst enemy. Going from a normal day, or a day where everything just feels absolutely perfect, starting a new life in a new state, a new home, just to have it completely ripped out from underneath us, especially for something unavoidable, was terrifying and heartbreaking. We are still living in the same house to this day, but I don't risk anything when it comes to electrical problems, because I cannot risk going through that again.

financially or emotionally. Hi Raven. I absolutely love your content and have been listening to your show for about six months now. I have a couple of stories. I'm not sure if their glitches are paranormal, but I hope that you'll enjoy my stories. For context, I lived with my sister and her family for a little while. This story isn't that strange compared to the other ones I've heard on your channel, but here it is. Back in 2016, I moved to a different house with my family.

I was about 11 years old. When we first moved in, we found some things that were left behind in the basement. Nothing that strange. Some T-shirts, silverware, and a couple of toys. One of the toys was those baby-learning stuffed animals that Leapfrog made. The purple one, I think. It had some marker stains on it, and it was beaten. up pretty bad, but my niece absolutely loved it.

One day she accidentally lost it, probably somewhere in the grocery store because she went with her mom to the store with it, and that's the last place that her mom remembered having it. The weird part is that a few days later she had it again. It wasn't a different one because there were the same marker stains on it from before. No one went to the store and got it, or just replaced it with a new one and gave it the same stains. My second story is from around the same time. I used to collect china dolls when I was a kid.

I remember unpacking some boxes, and one of the boxes was completely designated for my china dolls. As I was unpacking it, my sister was cooking dinner, and when I was about halfway done with unpacking, my sister called everyone to go eat. And we did. Everyone ate dinner together. But when I came back, my china dolls were all unpacked. and put away on the shelves. No one went into my room while we ate.

So how did my china dolls get put away? The town of Simcoe is a small town in Norfolk County, Ontario, Canada. In 2005, when this incident occurred, it had a population of around 14,500. It's not much larger now with the population of around 16,000. It had your quintessential small town feel. close-knit, the community knew each other, and by 9 p.m., most stores were closed, and the town was quiet. There's a notable exception where, during the summer, the town's population balloons with people spending time in summer homes or taking advantage of nearby Lake Erie. Only a 15-minute drive-away by car, there's a town of Port Dover.

Smaller and quainter. Port Dover sits on the north side of Lake Erie, a kind of beach town with a town, with a town of Port Dover. stunning views from its West Pier lighthouse. Normally it has a population of around 6,000, unless it's Friday the 13th. Since 1981, Port Dover has played host to a motorcycle rally. That draws 100 to 200,000 visitors to the town and larger area. These details are important because this event occurred well outside Friday the 13th and after Labor Day, signaling the end of the summer when visitors were gone, and Simcoe ported over in the broader Norfolk region, returned to quiet business as usual. While I don't remember the exact date, this incident would have occurred in late September or early

October of 2025, when there was no particular reason for what occurred. I was a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Most people know us as LDS or Mormons. I'd been stationed in a few different areas of Ontario for about a year, and at the time Simco was home. I'd arrived late in the summer and transitioned through autumn, watching what had been a bustling little summer town return to its normal sleepy splendor. This night was uneventful. It was actually kind of something I dreaded. We had nothing planned and the one thing I did not feel like doing was going out and knocking doors.

The one thing we did have was a referral, a dispatch by a former member of the local congregation to visit someone they knew on the outskirts of town. We'd been putting it off, but since we had nothing else going on, the other missionary I worked with, colloquially referred to as a mission companion, and I decided that we would walk to this house and try to talk to anyone we saw while we were out. Even at this point, looking back, something felt off. Our apartment was in a tiny building on the main street, so we walked down it and turned on to Peel Street, past the county library, and beyond past the hospitals. These were areas that, even in a small town, should have had some people on them well before sunset. But we only saw a handful of people. Beyond the hospital, it was country roads and no one to be seen until we reached our destination.

We got to the house and knocked, and then we waited, and waited, and waited. We heard noise, we heard people, but clearly these people didn't want to be bothered, and I wasn't someone who wanted to irritate people who weren't interested. At this point, the sun was setting, and we'd walked so far that the only reasonable solution was to start going back to the apartment and call it a night. Rather than retrace our steps, my companion and I decided that we would head north first to Queensway-Slaughey-3, and would eventually connect us directly with Norfolk Street, the main road through town. One thing to remember is when you see young missionaries, while we're devoted to our faith,

we're also 18-22-year-old kids. With a long walk on the side of the highway ahead of us, and nothing can. but passing cars in sight, the two of us got laughing and joking, quoting some of our favorite Chris Farley-era S&L skits and singing random goofy songs. It was as we got nearer to Norfolk Street that a car pulled onto the shoulder of the highway, and the driver rolled down the passenger side window, calling out over his partner, and he called to us, Are you guys high?

My companion and I looked at each other. Being stopped randomly by a car wasn't necessarily unusual, but this opening line was. We explained who we were and that we most definitely were not high. Oh, okay, the guy said. It's just that I'm a cop and you guys were being kind of loud. You know that gut feeling you get when something is just off? That was the situation. Aside from not providing a badge or any identification, the way this guy,

said he was a cop, like an afterthought as a reason to pull over, was a giant waving red flag. And if we were being loud, it was because we were walking next to a highway with cars roaring past. Mixed with the sound of traffic and that this guy had to roll down his window to address us, it was suspicious that he would have been able to even hear us as his car whipped down the highway. Fortunately, he rolled up his window and drove off. Bemused, we continued until we got to Norfolk Street and headed south, past Wellington Park and over the Lin River, toward the town center we'd have to pass through to get to our apartment. And this is where it got weird.

The sun, having long set behind us, we reentered the town that just hours ago was largely devoid of any sign of life. What we came back to was a main street bustling with activity. We entered the fray, but as we came closer, we saw people that looked different from anyone we'd seen in town before. Vagrants, drunks, tweakers, and people dressed like sex workers. Wearing slacks, white shirts, ties, we looked completely out of place. Nothing needed to be said. We both knew that if we stayed around, things would not go well.

Picking up our pace, we pushed through, making our way past uncomfortably curious, stairs. As we got closer to our apartment, the crowd got thicker and more unruly, and that creeping feeling of danger increased. I indicated that we should detour west, back by the library and cut around until we passed the town center, and reconnected with the main road there. My companion agreed, so we turned off the main road, barely on our way toward the library, a man stepped in front of us. Without meaning to be disparaging, the man looked homeless. He was disheveled and a bit dirty.

He looked back and forth at our black name tags and said, You guys know Jesus died, right? Taken aback and still trying to process what was happening, I muttered a, yeah, before stepping around and passing the man. While not as populated as the main road, the dark library and street had more people on it than usual at this time of night, but nobody else blocked our way or something. said anything to us. We carried on with a brisk step until passing the town center and reconnecting with

the main road. Looking back, we saw the crowd one last time, took a breath and made our way back to the apartment. The next day was just a regular day, but once night fell, we knew that we had to check it out. But there was no way we were going on foot. We had some appointments that night, and decided that we would take the car assigned to us. On the way back to the apartment, we went down the main street and nothing. It was dead. If anyone was out, they did not look out of the ordinary. But beyond that, the doorways that the people we passed the night before had been going in and out of were all shut.

Buildings were dark inside and locked tight. And so it remained, through November and December through Christmas, until I was reassigned to a new area in Ontario. I thought about this several times over the years and have never been able to make sense of it. One random night in Simco, Ontario, Canada, where the town was bustling with people who didn't look familiar, looked very out of place, and who never appeared again during the entire time that I was there. 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.

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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 Dreams, for early access to all this content. Check out the website, astherravendreams.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 to see if I have a psychological thriller.

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