As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Scary Stories Remade 01 - Paranormal, Gas Station, and First Responder Stories - 22 True Scary Stories

Episode Date: September 10, 2023

Today we have a collection of stories from WAY back in the early days of The As The Raven Dreams Podcast. These stories were redone at the request of listeners. I plan to do more of these as time goes on, and hopefully breathing new life into these stories allows more people to enjoy them. So, turn down the lights, tune in, and let the haunting tales of everyday people take you down that dark and creepy road. Remember, these aren't just stories... these are true experiences that remind us that our world can truly be scarier than fiction. Have a Story To Submit? ➤ https://www.astheravendreams.com Or Post to the Subreddit ➤ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream Support the channel for Early Access AND more! Patreon ➤ https://patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams Join ➤ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkW0ihdMHfBUjQrMKjRto6g/join Or Check out the Merch Store! ➤ https://teechip.com/stores/astheravendreams Thank you to all of the authors that have stories in today's Video 'As The Raven Dreams' is a community where we explore the darker parts of human existence through true and harrowing stories. From sinister encounters with strangers and stalkers, to terrifying experiences that defy explanation and unsettling mysteries that linger in the shadows, I am here to tell you the most haunting narratives ever whispered. Much Love, and Sleep Well... ----- #TrueScaryStories #AsTheRavenDreams #RedditStories ➤ Stories include a content warning for language and sensitive/disturbing content. Viewer discretion is always advised. ➤ ALL Audio of this Podcast are copyright of AS THE RAVEN DREAMS / RAVEN ADAMS and may not be duplicated, in any format, without explicit permission ➤ If you like any of the following stories, consider subscribing! - Dark Web horror stories, creepy lets not meet stories, stalker stories, Glitch In The Matrix Stories, Unexplained Horror stories, Paranormal stories, cryptid encounter stories, Crazy ex lover stories, creepy neighbor stories, quantum immortality, true scary stories from reddit, or any other True horror Stories! ➤ And Remember; You are loved, you are important, and you are valid. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/support Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Lazzang surgellied, Pugance Moines for 15 minutes. We're like it's the hour dojo. Prere to play. Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo.

The casino in line that proposes the more recent machine-as-a-sue of casino in direct. Profite of 50 tours on Big Bas-Bonanza.

Without exigance of mischief and with the payments instantane. Hey! I've gained! Woohoo! Scentire the pleasure

Play-Ojo 18-10 and plus, 1-Depos only depose only depot in Ontario. 50 tours on $1 $1 billion to

$10 million to pay to pay $0 to fashion responsible. The conditions apply. If you have a board of Via Rai. Embarked and profite. Embarked and celebrate.

Rigolet. Publié. Savour. Admire. And profite. Viaray, the voice that we love that we love. If you have a story you would like to hear featured on this podcast, please go to as the ravendreams.com and click the button to submit your story.

Also, if the platform you're listening on has the option to rate this podcast, Please, consider doing so. And thank you. I have been working as a gas station attendant for quite a while. Somewhere close to ten years. Mostly because I have a record, and I had some demons in my past that made me struggle with living a normal life. That said, I am clean and healthy again,

but working at my local station has almost been therapeutic. It's not a terribly difficult time. job. It's not overly demanding. Pay is enough for what I need, and I get to talk to various people that I both want and don't want to know. That, and I just get to do my job, and not be bothered with too much. And it's tough to get fired. The more I talk about it, the more I realize that I really do like this job, which may sound weird, but I'm kind of weird. Anyway, All that aside, I've been doing this for a long time, like I said, and I haven't had too much happen that's been too terribly crazy. We've been robbed once when I wasn't working, and the police were there within literal seconds.

The guy got shot, but survived, and after that, we were pretty much never hit again. We actually still have a bullet hole in the back wall from where one of the officers' rounds hit. It's a good conversation piece for newbies at the very least. It's a good way to say to them, look, this isn't the safest job in the world, and stuff happens, but you're more likely to get attacked walking out in the street than you are behind the thick plastic that we have between ourselves and the customer. So, all that aside,

let's get into the one major event that made me dislike this job just a little bit. It's less of a scary story and more like an under-esely. unsettling event slash situation to be put in. Plus, it kind of messed with my head, to be honest. It all started on a Thursday night, which is not a busy night for our station. We usually get around 70% of our foot traffic Friday through Sunday, so I was pretty tired and bored with the night. Anyways, we get a customer that walks in the door,

and I immediately knew it was going to be a problem. This guy looked incredibly familiar to me, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he recognized me. For most people, that wouldn't be an issue. For me, that meant that he was probably a druggie, and I most likely knew him from back when I was a user. Based on his appearance, which I know I really shouldn't do, he was a user. When you work in retail and when you know those kind of people, you tend to watch them to make sure they aren't shoving things into their pockets. I was watching this guy like a hawk, keeping my eyes on him and on the camera screens. To my surprise, he didn't do anything bad.

He didn't take anything. He just grabbed some chips, candy, a red bowl, and a few other things. Then he walked up to the counter and gave me a little. a mostly toothless smile. Being as polite as I could, I asked how he was that evening, just trying to make small talk and keep it shallow. He tells me he's doing all right.

I start scanning his items and then turn to tell him as total, and he smacks the counter with his hand, making me jump. As soon as he does this, he shouts, Wait a minute, Daniel! I knew I recognized you, Dan! How you've been, man? Which, again, it was something that I was hoping wouldn't happen.

I've been clean for a long time. I've avoided these kinds of people for years and have been trying to keep myself on the straight and narrow. I told him that I was doing good and that I was just chugging along, keeping clean, and working hard. He laughed and told me that he was trying to stay off the junk as well,

and that it was difficult. I agreed. I told him that it takes time and a lot of willpower, but it's worth it. I told him that ever since I stopped using, life became more clear, and I realized what damage I was doing to myself. I knew that it was probably preachy, but I was hopeful that I could get him to see that being clean was important.

After a bit more of me, me trying to convince him that being clean was worth it, and even mentioning that I could give him the name of a great rehab center in the area, he literally asks me if I know where he can score some heroin. I just paused and stared at him. My jaw clenched, and my eyes half-closed. He realized that he had just asked someone that had been clean for years where he could get drugs. I know that he realized because he said that he was sorry and that it was out of line, which should have been enough, but honestly, he kind of hit a nerve. I didn't say much more. I just finished bagging his stuff and told him to have a good night, in a manner that could be seen as cold. I felt bad, but at the same time, you don't ask a former addict, one that worked hard to get clean,

If they can help you score a hit, you just don't do it. After he left, I kind of just forgot about him. I moved on with my night. We had a few more customers, but overall the night was pretty standard. I rang up everyone, stocked the shelves when I could, and pretty much just killed the hours doing some cleaning. About four or five hours later, my second person came in for the end of my show,

shift, so I could go ahead and start doing the outdoor cleaning. The trash, the pumps, cleaning up the lot. Anyways, Jay gets in, he clocks in. I run the count on the register and put it in the book in the back, and I inform him that I'm going to take out the trash, so he takes over the register. I get all the bags ready, and I head out to the back towards where the dumpster is. I throw the first bag in, and the sound seems off. It sounded like there was something in the dumpster.

It may sound really dumb, but after doing this for damn near a decade, there are patterns and things like that that sort of click in your head. They empty the dumpsters midday around here on Thursdays, so it should have been empty, and the trash usually makes a decent thump in the empty dump. This time, it didn't. It sounded like it hit something soft at the bottom. My first thought was that maybe they didn't pick up the trash earlier, which would have been an issue, as the owner pays for that service.

I sighed, and I put my foot up on the rung to look in the dumpster, and I see him. The guy that came into the store a few hours prior. The guy that asked me where he could get some heroin was lying on the bottom of the dumpster and clearly blitzed out of his mind. He even still had the cloth on his arm. I was livid. This guy had seriously jumped in our dumpster to shoot up.

He seriously had the audacity to do this after everything that I had said to him. I threw the second bag of trash off to the side and went back into the store, then told Jay to call the cops. I told him that some junkie had shot up in the dumpster and passed out, and that we needed the cops and probably a medic. He called 911, and I told him to wait out front for the cops,

and that I would take over the store until then. He did, as I asked. I also called the boss to let them know what was going on, and he said that he would be there in about 30 minutes. This whole time, I'm just, fuming at the fact that I told this guy, this guy that I knew from back when I was hooked on drugs, all about how I got clean, how life was worth it, and how he should look into getting help, and even gave him the name of the facility that I went through.

And then he felt it was okay to get trashed in our trash. My anger was, best way to put it, short-lived when the paramedics showed up. I expected them to just pull him out, wheel him up on the stretcher, and get him to the ER. Then, I noticed that with the stretcher, they pulled out one of those plastic body bags. My rage immediately shifted to a deep sense of pity. Jay came back in with the boss and one of the officers, and they asked questions, obviously. I told him that he came in earlier and bought some stuff. and that we chatted.

I told him that I had actually recognized him from back when I was an addict, but that I was clean and hadn't seen him for at least ten years. They then informed me that they found the candy and a half-empty chip bag on his person, along with a card that I had written the number for the rehab facility on. They also informed me that he had pretty much for certain died from an overdose, that he probably just overdid it and passed out, and then didn't wake up. Honestly, this was a terrible situation, and while I was upset that he went and did that, I was just as depressed over the fact that I was probably the last person this guy talked to.

I know there was nothing more than I could do, and I feel like had this guy woken up in the morning and saw the card with the number when he was sober, he might have gone and gotten help. Of course, we'll never know. And it really does haunt me that, had I not gotten clean when I did, that could have been me in that situation. I really do feel bad that he passed away, but users all know the risk when they push that needle in. I really do hope that he found peace on the other side.

The paranormal has been a major part of my life. life for as long as I can remember. My first experience happened when I was just a couple of months old. Clearly, I don't remember it, but my dad does. And I had my first memorable experience when I was six. Things seemed to follow me, or maybe I just ended up in the right place at the right time. Whatever the case, I've had more experiences in 26 years. years than most people will have in their lifetime.

A large chunk of those experiences happened at my dad's house. It's a tiny five-room bungalow built in the late 30s or early 40s. Metal siding, a small attic, and an even smaller root cellar with an eerie crawl space. It sits on about half an acre of land, in a small town that, quite frankly, has a strong wrong foreboding vibe all its own. Beyond the backyard is a small cornfield. Beyond that are woods with small swamp running through it. The swamp has some stories of its own from what I remember.

My dad bought this place when I was 15. I wasn't as excited about moving out of a rusted ancient trailer as I should have been. Dad had spent two or three years looking for an actual house for us. We must have looked at 40 houses at that time, some better and prettier than the bungalow. The first question he asked me the day that we started moving our stuff was, What do you think? Is this place haunted? I said, I don't know, but something feels weird. I moved in with him full time when I was 18, divorced parents and shared custody,

and that was when things started to get spooky. One, it wasn't long after Dad bought the place that things started happening, although he didn't tell me about them until I started experiencing them. I would often smell a smoky, floral perfume moving through the house. Sometimes it just smelled like roses. It never stayed in one spot. Dad said that he smelled it a lot, and sometimes it was so strong that it woke him up. Two, footsteps.

Lots of them. 3. Movement in the attic. There's only one way into the attic, a drop-down door above where my bed used to be. Some nights I would hear walking, stomping, and furniture being dragged up there. However, there was no proper floor up there. If you've ever watched National Lampoon's Christmas vacation and remember the attic scene, you'll know what I'm talking about.

4. I used to want to be a singer, so I would spend a lot of my time alone, which was most of the time, trying to build up my confidence and train my voice by singing loudly. One day I sang a song pretty damn well, and when I finished, I heard a hearty clapping coming from my bedroom. I just paused and said, thank you. Eventually, more advanced spooky things started happening. The first event that I remember was in the middle of a beautiful, bright day. I was folding laundry in my bedroom when I heard a large dog barking in the house. I went out to look thinking one of my neighbor's pit bulls had gotten in.

They had tried before because they think every house is theirs. Not logical now, but at the time that was my only thought. When I got out there, there was no dog. Nothing was out of place, except the dryer was open. I always closed it, because the open door blocked the back door too much. It was also hard to open and had to be slammed shut. The moment I saw the door was when the voices started. Male, female, young, old.

They started as a collective whisper that came from, every wall in the house, and progressed to a mix of whispers, talking, yelling, screaming, and crying. The only place it didn't come from was my room, as I found out from running there and curling into the fetal position on my bed. I could hear them from behind my door, and soon it sounded like the voices had all congregated right there, trying to get to me, only to be stopped by a flimsy accordion door. I put my hands over my ears and cried.

Eventually I started praying and reciting Psalm 23. I wasn't even that religious at the time. After reciting the Psalm, the voices stopped, and I went calm immediately before sleeping for an hour or so. After I woke up, I went to my friend's house down the road. Her mother hates me to this day and thinks that I'm a demon-possessed heathen. and she didn't think too highly of the story that I had either. The second event involved the band.

I've only seen it once. To get to the bathroom, you have to go through my dad's bedroom. His bed is right beside the door, and he has under the need storage drawers. One day I walked in there and saw that one of the drawers was half open. He never kept the drawers open. as I walked past a pale gray long emaciated arm shot through the drawer and tried to grab me with spindly fingers I instinctively jumped over it and went to the bathroom like I'd seen nothing

I figured it was better not to let whatever that was know that I was afraid a couple of days later I was telling my dad about the arm I went into his room which is next to the dining room and tried to sort of recreate the event. Dad has a corner Curio cabinet with a mirrored back in his room. I stood near the bed and looked over at the Curio cabinet, and I saw a woman standing behind me. She was white, not Caucasian white, just pure snow white. Her skin, hair, eyes, even her dress, all one even tone.

Her hair was up in an antique bun style. and her dress looked to be a plain-style dress from the late 1800s. While I tried not to let the hand even scare me, this woman drove me over the line. I screamed and started crying. This was my second or third time seeing a full-body apparition. But it was the first time that I'd ever been so frightened by one. Dad came in and obviously no one was there.

Seeing her was what really started. started the worst of it. She would end up being a major player in all of this. Sometime between the first time meeting her and the most horrifying event involving her, I got a dog. Her name is Ferris, and she's my baby. She had a hard time adjusting, so

I spent a lot of time at night with her by my side as I watched movies by myself. Dad worked long hours and was often in bed by eight. so I always closed the French doors between the living room and dining room to keep the noise down. A few days after adopting Ferris, I noticed that she would look over to the doors and growl. I ignored it for a week or so, chalked it up to her adjusting, and then one night I looked over and really wished that I hadn't. On the other side of the doors were hands pressed firmly against the lower panes of glass. and figures low to the ground, moving in a slithery, almost slimy way.

I couldn't make out the detail, but somehow the images of decomposing bodies writhing in pain on the floor came to mind. Instead of freaking out, I turned up the TV volume and watched my movie, all while glancing over at the figures behind the door. They never left the entire time that I was out there. I'd see them a few times afterwards, but they did eventually go away. Ferris always let me know when they were there, and they also never left handprints. Then there was Quasimodo. I don't know who or what he was, but I only had ever saw him in the reflection of a full wood and glass curio cabinet that my dad had sitting on top of the TV stand in the living room.

He was mostly shadow, although I could make out certain details like the cut and color of his hair, his hunched back and twisted arms. The first time I saw him, I looked over at the Curio cabinet as I walked through the room and saw him walking closely behind me. It made me jump, but I didn't feel afraid like the white woman did. He didn't stick around, long. I wish he could have taken her place. There was a time when our sump pump malfunctioned, and the root cellar flooded.

I was woken up by my dad yelling up from beneath the floors. We got a problem down here. I was a bit upset that he woke me up like that, as if he thought that I had some broke appliance spidey sense that should have woken me up hours ago just as the pump broke. I asked him later why he woke me. me up like that and he said, woke you up. I heard you walking around upstairs before I even said anything.

We both got chills from that one. Now, for the long story. The day of absolute hell. I hadn't slept well that night. I woke up around 4 a.m. I know this because I could hear my dad out in the kitchen, making coffee before he went to work. I'd been woken up to the feeling of someone's entire hand covering my face, using their

fingertips to grip tight. I laid still for a while and hoped that it was a dream. Sleep paralysis, maybe, but I could move. And when I looked up at the wall, I saw something so incredibly surreal. I used to have a beautiful handmade yarn shawl that I got at a thrift store. I kept it hung up on my wall because it was so beautifully made that I considered it a work of art. Popping out of the neck hole of the shawl was a human head.

It was pale, grey, had dark, almost childlike features, but there was something so menacing about it. I stared at the head for a long time. It stared back at me, expressionless, and only blinked a couple times. I eventually heard my dad leave, and I ran to turn on the light. I never broke eye contact with this head, and it never broke eye contact with me. Just like something out of a cheesy horror movie, the moment I turned on the light, the head was gone.

I tried going back to sleep with the lights on, but I couldn't. I sat out in the living room and watched TV until about seven. 7 a.m. About that time, I felt like my heart was being crushed from within my chest. I saw a pale, transparent figure standing in front of me with its hands to my chest. I recognized it as the white woman, and I tried to get up. Somehow, she held me down. I reached for my phone to call my mom, but for some reason the call wouldn't go through. Text did, though.

I sent my mom a play-by-play of what was going on and told her how scared I was, and that I thought this woman was trying to kill me. Of course she was. I used to have the screenshots of the text that I sent my mom, but they became lost after an old phone I kept them on died. Then, the white woman vanished just as I felt like I was going to pass out, or maybe die. I got out of my chair and ran outside. One of my neighbors was out at her car and about to go to work.

She knew that we believed the house was haunted, but never judged us for it. So I ran to her and told her what was going on. She tried to call me down and told me everything would be okay. She said to call her if anything else happened, and she would pick me up and take me back to work with her. I went back inside, and I immediately regretted it. I walked past my dad's room and it gave me a terrible feeling. I peeked inside and saw the woman standing in the corner with her back towards me. Her chest and shoulders heaving as if she was taking long, labored, but silent breaths.

I didn't stick around. I grabbed my purse and keys and I ran back outside just before my neighbor was about to go to work. I frantically told her what I saw. If there was any doubt in her mind, it was gone now. She saw how stressed and terrified I was. She walked over to look at the house and then turned to look at me. Behind her, I saw the woman's face staring at me through the kitchen window. I shrieked, and I watched as the face quickly ducked back to my right.

The direction she moved is illogical. since there's a cabinet, sink, and a wall there. Sometimes, I wonder if she left the house for a moment. My neighbor explained to her bosses and coworkers that I was with her because I had some home issues and needed to get out of there. I'm sure they all thought I was on drugs by looking at me. I was a sleep-deprived mess, dressed in mismatched clothes and slippers.

At one point I tried sleeping on a couch in the lobby. I couldn't sleep. I tried sleeping in the conference room and I couldn't sleep. I wandered the building for a while and eventually made my way to an unused cubicle across from my neighbors. The rest of that day is a blur. Things sort of calmed down after that. There were small experiences here and there, footsteps. and smells.

I moved out shortly after that for various reasons. I've only been back twice. Dad says those small things happen from time to time, but nothing big. My experiences in general have slowed down. Maybe it's because I'm not seeking anything out. Maybe it's the stress of the tangible world overshadowing anything that may try to show itself to me. Sometimes, I miss it. Most of the time, I look back at all the other worldly bull crap that I've seen and think,

nah, I'm good. I do have a lot more experiences outside of that house that I may write about. This actually happened to me a few years ago. I started working at a local gas station part-time after high school. I figured if I was staying home, I might as well do something productive and make my own money, too. Most shifts were at night, so they were either dead or full of drunks, but I usually worked with one other person, so it wasn't too bad, especially when we had people get out of hand.

I actually liked it for the most part. On the slower nights, I let the neat freak in me come out, and I would start to organize the shelves better so that everything was like. upright, not scattered around and piled up. There was one guy, Mark, that usually worked the nights with me, and he would play music on his phone so that it wasn't completely silent, which was nice. One downfall, though, was that I didn't have a car anymore, as mine finally died on me, so I had to rely on rides from my parents, friends, or sometimes an Uber to get to places.

still, it was manageable because I only worked a few miles away from my homes, so I could even walk there if needed. I believe it was in late September when this happened because it wasn't too hot, but it was starting to get cooler overnight. I had decided to walk to work since it was nice out, and my parents weren't home to take me anyways.

It was a normal shift, except it was also football season, so we were a bit busier before games started, dead while it was on, and then we would get a quick burst of people at the end. As I'm ringing people up, I look up to see my line, and I noticed a guy in basketball shorts, socks with sandals on, and a shirt that said something about the gun show. I roll, am I right?

He was looking right at me and smiling, so I just smiled back and continued working on the line, line. After a few, I looked back and noticed that the line wasn't going down, so I called for Mark to come up and help. Sandel Guy was next. I noticed he had one of those tall cans of tea and nothing else, and he was still smiling, so I just said, sorry you had to wait just for this. Without taking his eyes off me, he said, Oh, that's all right, sweetie. As long as I get to see. see your beautiful smile. I haven't really dated much, nor have I had much experience in flirting, so I didn't really know how to react.

Not to mention, he had to be close to my parents' age, so I just made some weird chuckling sound and didn't say another word. He paid with a card. I handed him his receipt without saying another word to him, and he said, good night, sweetie, and walked out. I didn't have time to process what happened, as I had a few more people in line, so I just continued until we cleared out again.

When I was done, I was about to ask Mark to help me with something when he said, Oh, sure, sweetie. He was a nice guy. We never had problems with each other, so I knew that he was teasing, but it snapped me back to that when I started laughing and asked, So you saw that too?

Was that not weird? He said that he thought the dude was weird, but the flustered side of me was adorable. Funny to him, but I didn't know what to say, and the guy was just off, so none of it was enjoyable to me. Our night went back to normal for a while. He was in the back again as he did some of the bookwork, while I was messing with the shelves.

We were kind of shouting back and forth about something that we were both really involved in when someone came in. I started walking back around the counter when I noticed it was Sandel Guy again. He noticed me and waved, so I waved back and he started walking towards the coolers in the back. I quickly made a comment to Mark about him being there and just waited for the dreadful checkout. He then walked up to the counter and said, I forgot to get gas. If that was the case, why did he walk to the back?

I just smiled and rang him up. As I handed him his receipt, he made sure to reach further in to touch my hand and said, I'm glad I decided to stop here tonight. And smiled as he shook my hand. My hand was limp because I had. I was not interested in this. At all.

At this point, Mark had walked out from the back and said, Hey, Kate, my part's done. I'll take over. Thank God. I pulled my arm back really quick and dashed to the back and waited. I didn't hear another word from the guy, but I heard the bell on the door and Mark walked to the back. He said when I turned around, the guy cocked his head, like he was trying to look at my back end.

when he walked in front of his view. He said that when he noticed this, he grabbed his candy and dashed out the door. Who does this right in front of people, though? Anyways, the rest of the night was okay again. We had some lady come in singing, and she got Mark to sing with her, so that was funny. We were just having a good time, and it was getting close to closing, so Mark had taken the trash out back so he could smoke, and I was up front again reading her.

magazine. To my surprise, Sandals walks in, again. It had to show on my face that I was not okay with this, but he again immediately smiled and was looking around quickly like he was trying to find something. That's when he grabbed another candy bar and said, for you, Catherine Lee, I cannot stay away. Can I give you a ride home so that we can talk? I was shocked. My name badge says Kate. I don't go by Catherine nor my middle name, so how would he have known that? I didn't know how to reply, so I just said,

No, thanks. I have a ride. To which he said, but you walked here, right? How would he have known that? I just told him that I had a ride, and he would not stop, saying that he wanted to get to know me more and to take care of me. I remind you, I was around 19 years old, and this guy could have been my dad. I tried cutting him off to ask him if he was going to purchase anything, when he reached for my hand again and I pulled back.

At this point, Mark to walk back in right as he was starting to plead. Mark immediately walked over to the guy, telling him that he needed to go. He started shouting as he was being pushed out that he would wait for me. Mark locked the door and made sure that I was okay, but I was just more shaken up than anything. He had me doing some other things from there, like more organizing, stalking, anything that was empty and mopping while he watched the door. He would unlock the door to let specific people in and then lock it again. At closing, he was finishing the last thing. so I had pulled out my phone and opened Facebook when I noticed I had a friend request.

It was the sandals guy. That's when I figured out where he knew my name from and also realized that my address was on there. I told Mark about this, and he suggested that he should take me home. I did not refuse either. As we left, I was looking around to see if he was waiting, but I never saw anyone. As he was driving, he tried to loosen up the tension and joke with me, but I think that we were both worried about it still. Once we got to my place, the lights were on, so I knew that my parents were still up, thankfully, and I noticed Mark was still out there when I had gone in and locked the door.

I thought it was just to make sure that I got in okay, and after I was in, I changed clothes and went to get something to eat when there was a knock on the door. It was the cops. They were explaining that there was a report of a suspicious person and gave the description of the vehicle and the person. Wouldn't you know it? It was the same guy. So I had to explain to the cops and my parents what had happened.

The cops said they would drive around a few times to make sure that he didn't come back, and thankfully he didn't. But they did tell us that if he did come back to call them, Unfortunately, there was little that they could do since he hadn't actually done anything. The next time I worked, though, Mark explained what had happened. He said that he noticed a car following us, but didn't want to say anything and scare me. After I got inside, he saw the truck turn the corner onto my road, so he got out of his car and noticed that it was the same guy as he was driving by.

He said that he thinks he recognized him too. as he started to speed up. So he called the cops to report it for us. I was so incredibly thankful for what he did. Thankfully, we never saw the guy again, so hopefully he got the hint, but you can bet that I did a full cleanup of my Facebook page. Back in the early 2000s,

I worked in a gas station rest stop that was off of a highway. It was one of those stops that was a stop. in the middle of nowhere, that you see as the single stop for the next 100 miles. So it was quite the drive getting there and going home, but it was also quiet, for the most part. You can get some weirdos crossing the state line, but it's always nice knowing you probably won't see the same person again, outside of truckers, maybe. Sometimes my husband would come in on his days off and sit up in one of the booths reading or something, while I worked. I remember this event happening in the summer because it was so hot,

so I had the fans on near the front door just to keep cool, since I would be close to the door. My husband wasn't feeling well, so he had stayed home, but there were two other people working. An older woman, Rosa, who worked in the kitchen area, where we make the hot foods, and the other cashier, Evan. Rosa had left as we closed the food station at 9, so it was just going to be the two of us.

Again, with our location, and it being as late as it was, we didn't really get a lot of customers. More so, it would be people coming in to buy a phone charger, use the restroom, and sleep in the parking lot. It wasn't uncommon to see cars parked, but we still kept an eye on them for our safety. on this night Evan had just walked away to get something to eat and to take a short break I was up front sitting behind the register reading when a few people had walked in

by this time it was around 11 so the first couple to walk in looked exhausted they were looking at energy drinks and donuts and all I could do was chuckle to myself knowing that they were going to crash soon while they were looking around I saw another person walk in. Because the door makes a sound when it's opened,

I looked over immediately to see them, and she turned her face away quickly as she started fidgeting with her hair. It was a woman who appeared to be by herself, but she stood out to me, because she was wearing a hoodie in sweatpants. Like I mentioned, it was summer, and it was hot. The state that I'm in is known for being hot

and miserably humid, so I thought that it was odd, especially because she didn't look cold. In fact, it looked like she was sweating, so maybe she was ill. She looked like she hadn't brushed her hair either, but was trying to run her fingers through it and pull it around her face. Again, we can get some oddballs, so I didn't think anything else of it, other than to just watch and make sure that she didn't steal anything. After walking around a few of the aisles, she came up and, while trying to avoid eye contact, she asked where the restrooms were. I noticed when she approached that she didn't really look well.

Her face was pale, her lips were dry and cracked, and she was, in fact, sweating. I asked her if she was okay, and she smiled slightly saying that she was just car sick. I let it go as it was none of my business as long as she wasn't in danger or anything, and I pointed her to the restrooms. The restrooms are on the little diner-slash-food side, so she had to walk towards the other side to get there. We had one of those corner mirrors hanging, so we could see people coming and going from that direction, though.

I watched her walk over there and head down that hall with no issues. A couple minutes later, the first couple of people. A couple walked up with, like, six different energy drinks, the donuts, and two bottles of water. I remembered this because I teased them about the water-to-caffeine ratio and convinced them to buy more water. I speak from experience, after all. We joked and talked a bit, about where they were from and where they were headed, and they mentioned how they grossly underestimated how much they would spend on gas. They gave me a tent to put towards their tank, and they left.

Shortly after, Evan came back up from break, and we started talking about the couple that came in when the phone rang. There was a phone up front that was usually only used by us employees to call in, or when we needed to make a call, management when they would ask to remind us to do something, and, of course, emergencies. It was the manager. calling and asking us how it was going and to check if Rosa turned off all the friars and oven,

as she'd forgotten a few times before. I remembered this because the kitchen is creepy when it's closed, because it gets really dark, and all you can hear is the AC slash heater blowers, or faint talking from the front, so what else does a lady do but ask the guy to go do it? I stayed there and started reading again. when Evan came back up in one piece, thankfully, and turned on the small TV that we had behind the counter.

It had been a few hours of us sitting, walking around, getting a customer here and there when we had one lady walk in and again ask for the restrooms. As she started walking into the back, I remembered the lady in the hoodie because I never saw her leave. I started asking Evan if he had seen her, when the woman had come running back to the front, saying there was a baby in the restroom. I remember I just paused for a second to register what she had said when she clarified.

There's a newborn in there, alone. I immediately rushed to the restroom and, in the stall, was a newborn, in the toilet. It looked like someone had tried to cover the poor thing with toilet paper, and the seat covers. I have a daughter. She's a teen now, but I remember when she was born in it being the best feeling in the world, so this made my heart drop. I immediately grabbed the baby and noticed that she wasn't breathing.

She was cold and almost a purplish color. I took her to the sink and tried my best to run some warm water on her to clean her up, and I did my best with CPR. I was so worried that I was going to hurt her or that I was too late, but she finally started crying. I was relieved, but still in shock as I held this baby with no sign of her mother. I picked her up and immediately ran to the front, asking Evan to grab towels from the kitchen as I grabbed the phone to call 911. When Evan came back, he looked just as confused as I did at first.

I wrapped the baby up the best that I could, and I got her to stop crying. The woman that found her said that she had just opened the stall and saw her there, but there was no one else in sight. She was the only person that had asked for the restroom since the woman in the hoodie. That's when it dawned on me, that she probably looked the way she did, because she was going into labor. But, if so, she left her. without me even seeing her and how long was she in there we didn't even hear someone and

believe me labor is not a silent thing with our location the ambulance didn't arrive fast but it also felt like an eternity holding this baby trying to comfort her knowing that one of the first faces she's seen she may never see again with the ambulance and police there they took our statements and that's when I really started feeling awful. We didn't even see the car that the woman was in. We didn't know where she was coming from, where she was going. She could have been in a completely different state by this point. We did have camera set up, so we had to give that to the police, but unfortunately the

one side was the only one that recorded. And none of the parking lot was live and didn't save, so. we didn't have car information. Before they left, the paramedic did tell me that the baby seemed fine, and that I most likely saved her life. I don't know if they ever found the mom, but I hope that the girl is doing okay. After that, I actually took a CPR class and paid more attention to my customers

and their comings and goings. I'm a paramedic, and I have been for what I have been for what I'm a paramedic, and I have been for what feels like forever, though it's only been about four or five years. I just want to say that being a paramedic will absolutely tear you apart mentally and aid you faster than almost any other career path.

Is it fulfilling? Absolutely. I love helping people, but there's also points in time where you are expected to help, and there's literally nothing you can do in the situation. Those are the ones that get you the worst. In my time riding in the back of an ambulance, I've seen some really messed up stuff.

I've seen a lot of death, a lot of blood, and genuinely a lot of chaos and pain. And as much as I hate it, it really does make it worth it when you're able to save even just one person from a terrible situation. This story here is one of the story. stories that absolutely had a lasting impression on me, and is more of a sad story than a scary one, but it fits into the paramedic horror stories theme, just in a different form of horror.

So the story happened in my second year of being a paramedic, which would have been around 2016, maybe early 2017. I was already in the middle of my shift, so I was already in the swing of things, and it was a slow night, which is a good thing when you do my line of work. We were on standby just kind of waiting for a call when we finally get one over the radio. Dispatch pings us and tells me that there's a high-priority call a couple of miles down the way from where we are. They tell us that the caller sounds like they're young,

and that they informed the emergency line that their mom was on the floor and wasn't responding to them. This isn't the kind of call that you want to get, but it happens. Sometimes parents work themselves into such a heavy fatigue that they legitimately pass out. There are also a hundred other conditions that can lead to unconsciousness, blood pressure issues, diabetes, anemia, etc. So, while this kind of call starts off with the worst-case scenario in mind, you have to keep your hopes up, and keep all possibilities in mind.

Within a couple of minutes, we're on the road with lights and sirens going. We're driving as fast as we safely can, and trying to get past the cars that seem to not want to move for us, which, if I may drop in his side here, if you see an ambulance on the road with their lights and sirens going, get the hell out of the way. You not moving could literally be what causes someone's death,

so stop with whatever is in your head that makes you think you don't have to move over, and just move. I know that most people are good about this, but it pisses me off when I see people that seriously think they are more important than a damn ambulance. Anyways, we were on the road for this critical call, and we were getting there as quickly as we possibly could. The GPS gets us to the house. It's a one-floor-style ranch house in a decent neighborhood.

There isn't a car in the driveway and the front door is closed. We park out front, I grab the defibrillator kit just in case, and we make a quick jog towards the front door and knock. A few seconds later, a little girl that couldn't have been any older than five or six answers the door. Her face is a bright red, and she's very obviously been bawling her eyes out. As soon as I saw her, I got hit with a super-de-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-yyyyyyyyyy. deep palpitation. Thankfully, my partner was a veteran and had been doing this for way longer than I had, so he had a better head on his shoulders when it came to these situations.

He leaned down to her and said, Hi there, we're here because someone called saying their mom wasn't feeling well. Was that you? The little girl nodded her head and said that her mother was in the kitchen. She opened the door further and let us in, and then let us through the living room and into the kitchen. As soon as we saw the mother, I knew that this was going to be a worst-case scenario.

The stove was on with whatever it was that she was making starting to smoke, and she was face down on the floor with her eyes rolled back. My partner told me to take the little girl into the living room, and that he would call in for backup so that we could secure the scene and get the situation figured out. basically since it was just the two of us, I had to keep the child occupied while he attempted to resuscitate, if he could.

Though, we both knew that it wasn't going to happen. At this point, I'm in the living room trying to keep this little girl that's in a state of panic because she has no idea what's going on from completely losing it. The first thing she asks me is if her mom is going to be all right. I kind of just sat there for her. a moment before telling her that we were going to do everything we could to help her.

It absolutely killed me to lie to her like that. I tried to pull the subject away from the situation a little bit, and I asked her for her name. She told me that her name was Chloe, that she was about to be six years old next week. I tried to ask if she could remember what happened, and she told me that her mom was making dinner and then said that she didn't feel good, and then she was lying down on the floor. When she went to wake her up, she wasn't responding, so she called 911 on the phone. I told her that she did the right thing, and that what she did was very brave. Then I asked her where her dad was.

She told me that he was at work, because apparently he worked nights. This left me with a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Just thinking that this man went to work and left his daughter and wife at home and that he had no idea what was happening at home right that moment. When the secondary paramedics and the police unit showed up to my house, I took Chloe outside with one of the officers, and they asked the neighbors if they had any contact information for the father. At this point, the officers took over the scene and took care of Chloe as they tried to get a hold of her dad. I told her that she did a great job, and I pretty much had to let it go at that point. I went with my partner in the secondaries with her mother to the hospital, but she was pronounced DOA.

In the end, the situation was heartbreaking. The father was notified, and he showed up at the home with a look of absolute disbelief on his face. And I don't blame him. Like I said, he went to work like any. other day of his life, any other day, only to be called back home and told that his wife was dead and that he was now a single parent. I later found out that she was, as expected, gone when we got there. She'd apparently had a major stroke while she was making dinner, and she collapsed.

Her daughter called 911 immediately like she should have, but there was literally nothing that we could have done. This is one of those stories that made me second-guess my career path. I kept with it in the end, and I hope that I never have anything like this happen again so long as I'm doing this. But I'm sure it will. To all the listeners out there, make sure that your loved ones know that you love them, make sure that they know that you care, and cherish each and every moment you get with them. Never take any of it for granted.

The story happened what feels like a really long time ago. I was still new into my job as a paramedic and had yet to be beaten down by the stresses that come with the job. Honestly, it's a good job, but it will wear you down. Working for 12-hour shifts at some point, running around, getting consistent blasts of adrenaline because of the calls, it will age you so much quicker than other jobs. I cannot tell you how many days off I slept through because I was completely and totally exhausted from my shifts. Honestly, it's enough to destroy your personal relationships,

which is where we can segue into the context for the story. Back when I was a rookie paramedic, I was dating a rookie police officer named Laura. Laura was an incredibly energetic, spry, and fun-loving girl that I genuinely loved. And she was probably one of the nicest people that I've met in all my years on this earth. Laura actually joined the force because of her father, Paul, who was a sergeant in the same department, and he'd been on the force for quite a while. I don't remember how long, but he was pretty well-known and well-respected throughout our small town.

I actually knew Paul from when I was a medic prior to dating Laura, so when I met her and we started dating, it was actually quite the surprise for me when I found out that they were related. Regardless, he knew that I had a good head on my shoulders and a steady job, so he was okay with us being together. Anyways, now that you know who I am and who they are, it's probably best to get to the actual story, slash situation. Like most paramedic stories, this one isn't one that's scary per se, but it's terrifying in its own right.

On the night of this situation, I had been working a full 12-hour shift, and I was tired. I was actually scheduled to be off the next day, so I was ready for it to come to an end. The night had actually been fairly busy, considering it was the middle of the week. I think I'd already been on two calls in the evening alone, and the other pair had already been sent out twice,

and while the calls we had taken weren't that big of a deal, it was a lot more than I was used to having to deal with. Because of this, I was hopeful that we would have a silent remainder of the evening, and I would be able to do nothing for the last hour of my shift. I know this sounds lazy, but trust me, when you're running around for five, or so hours taking care of various things around town, it's enough to make you want to sleep while driving. Of course, that's not how things work in reality. And with around 45 minutes left of an exhausting shift, we get a high priority call.

I'm sitting there and listening to the dispatch inform us of the situation as we're getting everything together to get out as quickly as possible. The whole thing was a pretty horrible mess, apparently. We were informed that we were responding to a shots fired, potential injury at a domestic call. The initial call that the officers had taken was one where a woman had called the police on her husband, because he was drunk and had hit her. The location was actually a frequent call, one that the officers had gone to a number of times, and the situation typically ended up with the husband going to jail for a couple of days,

getting out with a court date, but the wife would not leave him. I know that the cycle of abuse is very real, and these kinds of relationships are really hard to get out of, but it's really painful to see these kinds of things recur like this. Unfortunately, and obviously, this time things had gone south. There were shots fired with injury, and obviously we were headed in that direction as fast as we humanly.

could. It wasn't close, but we were still making pretty good time overall. It wasn't until we were about halfway there that the call changed from shots fired potential injury to shots fired officer down. This kind of escalation turns the entire situation from a big deal to a huge deal. We now had an officer that was in need of immediate medical attention and possibly other injuries. We pulled up to the scene, and we jumped out when we saw a second team of officers had already secured the scene,

and were trying to help out the downed officer. While I anticipated this to be a terrible situation, I could feel my heart stopping when I saw Paul on the ground in a pool of blood. I ran over to him, and I started to do everything I could to stop the bleeding, but I knew immediately that there was nothing I could do. He'd been shot on the left side of his neck, and he was already fading at that point.

I remember grabbing his hand and kneeling down and telling the officer to hold pressure. The look in his eyes when he saw me is something that will stick with me until the day that I die. It was almost like a glimmer of hope. He knew me, so I think part of him had become relaxed when he saw me approaching. Either he started to think he was going to be okay, or he knew that he was a goner, and at that point he didn't feel alone. Like I said, I tried to keep him there, and we tried to get him into the ambulance while maintaining, but he passed away while we were headed to the hospital. Apparently the call had gone bad within the first few minutes of Paul showing up.

The husband was, as the wife had reported, drunk and mad at the world. When Paul showed up, he expected the whole thing to go as it had gone in the past. The husband would fight for a bit, but would eventually end up in cuffs and in the cell for a day or two. What he didn't expect was that the husband was going to be completely off it, and shoot his wife dead, while Paul was knocking on the front door. From what I was told, this guy murdered his wife, and then when he saw Paul, he shot him from the window and then turned the gun on himself. Talking to Laura was nearly impossible after this whole thing it happened,

because there was nothing that I could do, and I had to just watch him die. I tried to talk to her about it and tell her that he wasn't in pain. I tried to tell her that he was definitely at peace when it happened, but it didn't do much. I don't blame her for not wanting to hear all of the standard statement, Lora and I split up pretty soon after. We kind of just grew distant,

and I think that she didn't want to be around me anymore after this whole thing happened. Again, I don't blame her. She also quit the force within the next month. I actually have no idea what happened to her after this, and I'm sure that she took a lot of time to actually get in a good place mentally. I just hope that if Laura is... is out there, she's living to the best of her abilities, and she was able to keep going strong, if not just for herself, then for Paul.

What follows occurred in 2005, when I was going through a very messy and painful, for me, anyway, divorce. In looking back, I remember fighting so hard for so long to keep together a situation, which was a lost cause for years. I set the stage this way to help you, the reader, understand that for months as this dragged on, I was not in a good place at all. And so it was on a certain night,

after another day of too many cigarettes and far too much dark anguish, that I laid there waiting to go to sleep. sleep was difficult during this time for me but at some point I did fall asleep and at some point the following experience happened I found myself standing in about a foot of fresh snow which at the time I thought was really interesting since it was summer in the waking world

the dream was lucid which is not rare for me in that I remember looking behind me that there were no footsteps in the snow. I didn't walk here. It was night, and based on the enormous tree line surrounding me that I could make out in the moonlight, I was in the middle of some vast forest.

In front of me was a small cabin lit from the inside, with smoke trailing from the chimney. It was then that I started to feel cold, and so I walked up to it. I knocked on the door and was shocked when my father answered. He had died in 2000, and we were extremely close. I couldn't believe it. And for a few minutes, it was hugs and tears.

And somehow I had all these pictures of my daughters in my pocket all of a sudden. So I was taking them out, showing him, telling him stories. He was patiently smiling, but I could tell that he was listening for my benefit. and it soon set in that he had seen every one of these moments of me and my kids. He'd seen everything, and I still hold on to this day that he watches over my girls, and now his new granddaughter. Something struck me as odd once I began to take this all in. My dad was not the rustic type.

In fact, he hated camping. and looking around I could see the place was filled with books so that it made it comfortable but this didn't really feel like his place if he catch my drift I must have mentioned that because I watched his face change into something a bit more somber

and he answered it's because I don't really belong here I'm supposed to be somewhere else I didn't understand what he meant and he must have read it on my face and he went on. I'm here for you, son. I came here to this place to help you,

but we're running out of time. You're here because I have something to show you. In the next instant, we were back in the snow, behind the cabin. The moon was really bright. I remember because I could see pretty clearly. We were standing in front of this gigantic kennel

with a high fence all around it. I was confused. It was then that I could see two large shadows moving in the back. I began to hear the sounds that they were making, and I will never forget it. It was like a growl and a whine at the same time. I think they sensed who I was, or something, because they shot forward into the light, and I saw them for the first time.

They were two huge black wolves. but so horrible looking. They were so enraged and at the same time so sick. Their hair was matted in filth and gone altogether in sickly patches with bloody spots where they had bitten themselves or each other. They were throwing themselves at the fence, almost blindly to get at me.

I remember they were biting at the fence until their mouths were bloodied. Once or twice they bumped into each other and they would immediately tangle in a bloody, violent fight. Dark blood fell on the snow. Somehow I knew that this must have been going on for a very long time. The whole scene was so frightening, so repulsive and so confusing. Again, this sort of thing was so out of character for my dad, who loved animals. I asked him why he was doing this.

Why was he keeping these things around? I remember my dad's face. So kind, but pained too, I could see. He said, Son, don't you understand? This is what I'm here for, in the middle of nowhere, hidden a way out here. I'm here to help you.

He motioned to the kennel. These two wolves are your anger and your fear, and they're tearing everything apart. I came here to keep them here, to keep you safe, but, son, I can't hold them here any longer. You can't hold them here any longer. They will destroy everything. You aren't going to live much longer like this. I stood there in silence.

Even the wolves had fallen silent, and I wanted to cry. All of it came into view. the beating myself up, the huge toll that was taking on me, my mental and physical health, all coming to the point where I was actually facing my own death. I knew that part to be true. I would be dead within days. All of it was because someone didn't love me, but what was actually doing the most damage, what was killing me, was that I refused to love myself.

I could tell by my dad's face that he saw me coming to this realization, and he smiled in relief. Are you ready? He asked. I was terrified that they would attack me, but I knew there was no choice. With the whole world watching, it felt like I walked up with as much courage as I had, and I flung open the gate. With that growling wine that was deafening, the wolves leapt out of the kennel, finally. free. They stood there for a moment locking eyes with me, their hair standing on end. For a second, I thought they were going to kill me. Payment for keeping them in a cage. And finally,

without a look back, they charged together into the forest. Where they went, I don't know. I remember looking at my dad not knowing what to do next. There were no words, just a feeling that the experience was over. I knew that this place would never be here again for me, but my father would, which was more than enough. And it was then, when I woke up. It was early morning.

I felt mentally and physically drained, somehow not the same. But there was also a knowing that the worst was behind me, that I was not going to die yet. The wolves were released. Day by day, I slept better. As the moving day approached, I found myself looking forward to a new life. My girls and I had the best adventures when we were together,

great memories that we talk about to this day. I owe much of that turning point to my dad, who put himself in a cabin in the middle of nowhere to keep me from tearing myself apart. When I was around 12 or 13 years old, my mom moved my two sisters and I into a new house with her new boyfriend. The house was two streets away from our old house, so we moved in quickly. I'm going to try to explain the house, so bear with me. The staircase was in the center of the house, facing the backyard. If I'm standing with my back to the backyard, looking up the stairs,

The living room is to my left, kitchen to the right. In between the living room and staircase is a hallway leading to the garage with the bedroom, bathroom, bathroom, and laundry room. There's a built-in shelf in the hallway. Between the staircase and the kitchen is a hallway leading to the front door with a front room and breakfast nook, separated by a half-wall. Upstairs to the left was the master bedroom, with a bonus room, slash office.

Upstairs to the right was mine in my sister's room, connected by a Jack and Jill bathroom. So the house always had this feeling that I can't really explain. It just always felt off. The worst place to be was upstairs and in the front room slash breakfast nook. Everything started very slowly, spare change flying off the built-in shelf in the hallway, to hearing footsteps upstairs when you were in the living room. It seemed as if the only people affected by the weird noises and weird feelings were my mom, my middle sister, and myself.

We decided one day to go through the attic-type space in the bonus room off of my parents' room. All we found up there were a bunch of white jeans, looked to be true religion genes that were never finished. Now, I'm not sure if this is related at all, but after we found the genes, everything went to hell. My mom's BFF lived down the street, so middle sister and I would watch her three-year-old often. She was at our house, sitting in my sister's doorway, looking into my mom's dark room. She kept looking into my mom's room and eventually asked my sister and I, who's that guy in Auntie's room?

We went to her house after that. I couldn't walk through the hallways without a feeling of dread. Like something wanted to hurt me. My sister and mom shared the same feelings. Mom's room ended up always being dark. No matter how many lights were on, the room was just never bright. We all had nightmares constantly. But my oldest sister and now stepdadden,

never experienced any of it. Our dog would always stare from the kitchen into the front room and growl, and he never stepped foot in that room. He would not go upstairs either. One night I'm out of sleepover, and my middle sister is at home on her computer, about to go to bed. She's falling asleep when she feels someone crawl over her and lay down next to her. She thought it was me because she didn't know I was gone. I slept with her a lot because my room scared me.

She woke up in the morning with a huge black and purple bruise on her leg. And when she found out that it wasn't me and I wasn't home, she lost it. We moved away shortly after that. For years, up until recently, I had a recurring dream about being back in that house. I would be standing, looking up the staircase. and just have a horrible feeling in my stomach that whatever it was wanted to hurt me. But I couldn't move. I would end up going up the stairs anyways,

but then my dream would skip to me being in the front room. I could hear my middle sister crying for help, but I couldn't move. I would be back at the stairs, looking up, when I could feel something awful behind me. I'd wake up quickly and it always felt like, something terrible wanted my sister. It finally ended recently when I was having the same dream, but I was finally able to get to my sister upstairs, and we ran out of the house and shut the door.

On the way out, though, there was the ghost of a sickly woman who looked as if her face was stuck in a scream. She chased us out of the house, but she didn't give me the bad feeling that I had before. It was like she was the one getting us out. out. Then, I never had that dream again. Hi, creepy Reddit. I have a story from about two years ago that really captivates me to this day. When I've told this story to close friends, they tell me it's straight out of a movie, and I really can't disagree with that.

This starts when I finished my first year of college in the Bay Area. I worked my rear-off in school, and I worked my rear-off in school, and I really didn't. I just wanted to have a wild summer, and I would do anything I could to get out of the house. My cousin was, and is my best friend, and we basically did anything and everything together. When there wasn't anything to do, we would take walks together around my rural neighborhood. I always lived near this old hospital, which used to operate as the biggest trauma unit in my area. sometime when I was in high school they shut the hospital down due to unknown reasons. It basically just sat there rotting for a few years before we found it.

One day my cousin and I were drinking a cold one, taking one of our routine walks, and we ventured away from our usual route through this peaceful, random field. We stumbled across this huge parking lot after making it out of the field, but it didn't hit me that this was the old hospital parking lot that we'd found. We made our way through the lot until we saw this massively grand building standing outside of the lot. The deteriorated banner said emergency room, and this is when we knew we had struck gold, and stumbled across a back route to this abandoned hospital.

We knew of this place, but we had never been here. We hadn't heard any weird, weird, outlandish, urban legends, nor had anyone we knew been here before us. We pushed forward, and we checked the perimeter. To our surprise, the first door we walked up to had a rock jammed in between the door frames, so we could waltz in. This is when we realized that this could potentially be a bad idea if we got caught, and we could suffer some consequences.

We agreed that we would be quiet and respectful and make it a quick. trip. This is where things take a turn, or a few turns. We entered the building, and it was the most deafening quiet that I have ever heard. The sound of the door closing behind us sounded like a literal bombing. Once the echo stopped from the door, it dawned on us that this place was freaking creepy. We walked slowly, but the floor was covered in glass, which made even the smallest steps sound like bigfoot lumbering around a library.

We found a patient room which still had a bed inside. We stopped at the doorway to look inside because the floor looked sketchy. Out of nowhere, from around the corner, we hear the faintest slow, drawn-out, whistling. I've never in my life stopped what I was doing so suddenly. I just stare wide-eyed at my cousin, because even a whisper sounds like yelling in this place. We both have our feet planted to the ground,

because if we moved at all, we would make ourselves known. At this point, we both assume that there could potentially be a squatter, or a guard of some sort. My cousin hand gestures to me that we have to leave, and we can't just stand there, because the whistling was obviously not going to stop at that point. We turn towards the opposite side of the corner that the whistling is at and are tiptoeing out to a perfect science.

Then the whistling stops. We freeze, and then we hear the glass crunching from around the corner. So we started running. Once we get to the door we came from, we realized that we didn't put a freaking rock in the door frame when we came in, and the door is completely stuck. As we're trying to get this door open, the glass crunching is now running. We hear this glass crunching until it sounds like it's dangerously close.

I'm horrified. We turn around and try another door and the noise of the glass is literally right in front of us. Yet no one is there. No one. We book it to a door that says pharmacy and peel open the door. The pharmacy is completely empty except a single, perfectly placed. perfectly placed and aligned landline phone plugged into the wall. The phone is off the hook and making a tile tone.

The whole thing was perfectly lined up and centered with the whole room. I've never seen anything like it. The dial tone was so loud in such an empty place. There was power throughout the hospital, so how was it working? I was in shock. We left and we never went back. I'd heard of some other kids going there at night. They told me that they heard the whistling and thought someone was lurking in the shadows the whole time.

It is a freaky world out there. So, these two stories aren't mine directly. They're actually stories I've been told by my dad from his 20-some-odd years as a police officer in Southern Michigan. working for the force that long will absolutely net you a number of stories. But I recall two of them specifically that bothered him, and strangely both of them were on the roads. Actually, thinking back, a lot of the stories that he had to tell were about drivers or car accidents.

It makes sense, though. A lot of terrible things happen while people are driving around, and far too many people out there drive with zero regardless. guard for the safety of others. Anyways, this first story is a testament to the fact that you should always wear your seatbelt regardless of how uncomfortable it makes you. On top of that, you should take even further precautions when it's snowy or cold. My father was on his shift and was patrolling when he got a call of a rollover accident

in an area that he was near, and the call-out informed that there were potential injuries. Seeing as how he's not a medic, his job on this call was to basically get to the scene, secure it, and attempt any basic assistance to anyone injured. He hit his lights and guns it out to where the crash was reported, and he saw it at the corner of the main road and a side road. He parks his car to block traffic in that section and runs over to the car. From what he always told me, this was a sedan, something like a car. a dodged neon, and it was still upside down. Even worse, the driver in the car was completely out of it. At this point, he's trying to see if the driver is even still alive, checking for his pulse,

checking for breathing, when the man wakes up. My dad is trying to ask him if he can hear him, just trying to get a response out of him, and when he finally responds, my dad said that the words were completely, incoherent. That's when my dad realized the smell. This guy is three sheets to the wind, completely trashed, and barely conscious.

My dad's just trying to get this guy to the point where he can help him out of the car when out of nowhere he hears a kid screaming. As soon as this starts, the driver freaks out and starts yelling about his son. He looks in the back of the car and there's no one else in it, which then led to the assumption

that the kid had been thrown from the car. My dad gets up and goes to look for the sun, and he finds him in a decent-sized snowbank. He's barely moving, but screaming his lungs out and crying in pain. My dad runs over and kneels by him. Obviously, this kid is scared and hurt, and he's trying to get up, but my dad keeps telling him that it'll be okay and that he needs to not move,

just in case he had a head or neck injury. From what he said, the kid didn't look like he was in good condition, but the fact that he was conscious enough to cry and yell and tell him that he was hurting was a good thing. Obviously, this situation wasn't good, and the end result was pretty terrible. The father was fine. He wasn't hurt at all.

The son had a broken leg and a concussion, but he made a full recovery. That was the good part of it all. The bad part of it was that the father, as stated, was completely trashed at around 4 in the afternoon and was driving with his son in the front seat without a seatbelt, and the roads were not in good condition, hence the snowbank I mentioned. My dad never figured out how the guy ended up rolling the car, but when he did, the son had apparently gone out the window, and thankfully the car didn't roll on top. top of him.

This was a pretty awful situation that ended with a decent ending. The father was obviously charged and the kid removed from his custody, but it could have gone much, much worse. This second story does not have a happy ending. And if you are sensitive to grim or gruesome stories, I don't recommend reading it. I'll keep the details low, that way it doesn't become too much for those of the of you that do read it. The story actually happened closer to the beginning of him working for the force,

and it's one that has absolutely haunted him. Based on what he'd said, he was patrolling like any other day, when he actually saw what was a jumper on a nearby bridge down onto a highway traffic. He said that he actually saw the whole thing from where he was stopped, and again, I won't get into the graphic detail, but he said that there was a young woman on the bridge, and he knew what she was thinking about doing. As soon as he grabbed his radio to call it in, he saw her jump down onto the road, and then saw a semi try to swerve out of the way.

Obviously, this doesn't work with a large truck like that, and he couldn't move quick enough, but her act actually took more than just her own life. When the truck tried to swerve, he actually ended up hitting another call, that was beside him. My dad said that the damage to the second car was an indication that there was zero chance that the driver could have made it out of this accident alive. So, while it is sad that the first person decided to end their own life, and yes, I wholeheartedly think that's a terrible thing to happen, her method ended up taking the life of someone else that had nothing to do with her, or her decision. In the end, my dad said that the truck driver was traumatized.

He had attempted to not hit the girl, but ended up taking someone else's life too, completely by accident. This whole thing was a wrong place, wrong time situation, and there's no way to not feel horrible for the guy. I can imagine the years of therapy that he had to go through to get past this in his mind, and I really do hope that he was able to move forward with his own life. My uncle was an officer on a narcotics team that was tasked, basically with finding who was selling the hard drugs in this town, and building a case against them, so that they could set up stings and take them down.

He was pretty good at it, and he had taken some decent-sized dealers off the streets. A lot of his cases were based on a number of his cases were based on a anonymous tips, with names doing deals in X, Y, or Z areas. They would then tell the person, and once they were satisfied that they had someone they could get, they would typically set up a sting, record a sale, and then go for the bust pretty much immediately after. Most of the time, this went perfectly. They would get the sale on the video, and would have the probable cause to arrest the dealer right away.

and more often than not it would be a quick and easy arrest and a straightforward case. This case was actually one of my uncle's last for reasons that will be obvious later, and this one was actually pretty serious for his unit and for his station. He had been assigned to tail a fellow officer that was accused of dealing, and he had to take the case very delicately as he needed to prove that this guy was guilty. and not let him know that he was being investigated. My uncle said that they followed him for a while, and while it was certainly a struggle,

they did get a hold of the evidence that he was dealing. The problem was, since this guy was a cop, he wasn't willing to deal with just anybody. From what they had gathered, he had specific people that he would work with and they didn't really have the ability to get a deal on tape or anything. My uncle told me that they tailed him for a long time, and they finally decided to just arrest him.

He determined that he would do so in a secluded area, and would do anything he could to not make it a big scene. Of course, being an officer, there's a whole honor thing, and he decided that he would offer the guy a chance to come clean and willingly go in. My uncle said that he followed the guy until, at one point, he went into one of the locker room areas, and he decided that that would be the point where he would confront him. He mentioned that he went in, and he started the conversation casually, until the room was cleared out. Then he basically confronted the guy and said,

Look, we have a case against you. We have all the evidence that we need, and it would be best if you just turned yourself in. without causing a fuss. Basically, like I said, just giving this guy a chance to go in willingly. He says that at the beginning, this guy acted like he was going to go with my uncle. But the second my uncle's guard was down, he pulled a knife and jammed it into my uncle's shoulder. My uncle fell from the scuffle and, well, you know, being stabbed. But this guy couldn't have chosen a worse course of action.

and a worse point in time. As soon as he stabbed my uncle, another officer entered the locker room and saw what had happened. My uncle doesn't remember much of it, but apparently the guy ended up with a round in him and the entire station went into a frenzy. They both pulled through, though my uncle lost a majority of the use of his right arm.

The other officer went in for attempted murder charges, I believe, how he attacked my uncle with an obvious intention to hurt him. In the end, they found out that this guy was actually pulling items from the evidence locker to sell. He was using what had been confiscated for his own profit. While this may not have been the most terrifying story, it's one that my uncle will never forget, because this guy could have absolutely murdered him then and there. It's just likely that he had panicked, and he had panicked, and he was.

went for a stab instead of anything that would have actually done my uncle in. My uncle admits that he went about this really stupid, and that he should have had backup, or just said screw the honor system and taken him in out in the lobby. Either way, he went to prison, and he won't be out for a very long time. My uncle now does desk work for the station, so it is unlikely that he'll ever end up getting stabbed again. So I was a wildland firefighter back in the day in Arizona. I worked in a forest that was generally popular with a lot of recreation in the northern portion, but I worked on the southern portion of the forest that was really remote.

It barely had any roads or campgrounds, so if you wanted to recreate there, you had to work for it. The fire crew I was on had two duty stations, one in a small town where the rest of the forest employees worked out of, and one that was about two and a half hours away, up a really winding and mountainous road. The remote duty station had an old Forest Service ranger station and a newer double-wide trailer that was recently put in. When I worked at this place, it had no cell phone reception. When my crew and I weren't working, we were playing horseshoes and watching movies. They did eventually add a cell phone booster, which sadly made people play on their phones, but I digress. So, for my creepy story, I want to keep it pretty simple, but my supervisor from that crew had experienced some weird things as well working up there. There was one night that he told me he was cowboy camping, sleeping outside with...

no tent, and he kept getting a weird mucusy drop of liquid on his face. He kept looking around and even yelling, and no one was around him. He told me he wasn't below any trees, so he knew it wasn't tree sap. He never slept outside there ever again, which leads me to believe he was telling the truth. Now, for my story, I've had other interesting experiences at that remote, duty station, but this one was scary. It was the night of July 4th, and we weren't on a fire, so the crew was playing horseshoes and having a good time.

Everyone went to bed pretty early, because we were going to have a PT hike the next day. I had my own small room on the double-white trailer, and my bed was situated next to a big window. I started dozing off, but felt a while. awake still. And I hear one of my coworkers outside my window asking me to come outside. I was laying on my side facing the window and I didn't look up, but I felt their presence by the window. It felt as though something tall was looming over me from outside.

They kept beckoning to me, and I said no. Pretty quickly, their voice started changing to a deeper, raspier, angrier, voice. They started cursing at me. Get the F out here. I just froze. It was sort of a demonic voice.

I lay frozen not moving while they yelled at me. Eventually it stopped and I fell asleep. I woke up the next day and wanted to ask my co-worker if he was standing outside my window, but I felt too weird. Perhaps this was a mild form of sleep paralysis, but it was still weird. I want to add a content warning for this story as some of the language is very descriptive, and it involves a car accident and the damage done during said car accident,

and it is kind of graphic, so just a heads up on that. So I've been a career paramedic, but this happened when I had only been one for five, years. This has never left me to this day, and I kid you not, it happened exactly like this. I was driving home on a rural highway one rainy afternoon. It was really pouring and traffic had slowed to about 50 miles per hour. I was following two vehicles, and we rounded a bend in the road as a small sports car on the opposite side, crossed the center line and hit the small SUV that was leading. the three of us vehicles on my side of the road. I immediately pulled over and called 911. It was a bad one.

I got out to check on everyone. There was a whaling coming from the SUV on the side of the road. That's always a good thing because it means people are breathing. So I went down into the field past the ditch to check on the sports car. There were two young guys in the car. The force of the impact had driven the engine to where the front passenger seat should be. The passenger was still buckled, his crumpled hand grabbing the old crap handle overhead. The entire section of the car shoved into the back seat area.

The back of the car had peeled away, as had the passenger's top of his head. His jawbone jutted out rawl and jagged, and he was clearly deceased. But I felt for a pulse anyway, all while listening to the gasping, ragged and dragging breaths of the driver. No pulse on the passenger. I tried to figure out how to deal with the driver, but there was nothing that I could do. The car had literally wrapped around him, and it would take an extrication team to get him out. listening to his dying breathing, I apologized out loud to him that I couldn't do more.

I told him I was sorry to leave him, but that others needed my help too. In my heart, I knew that he would never make it. So I went to render aid where it was needed. In triage, we call this black tagging. It's a patient who isn't going to survive. I did what I could for the family and the SUV, emergency medical people and fire services got to the scene and took over.

The entire family had injuries, but all survived. The mother did have permanent brain damage, and she lost an eye. But the whole day, those two guys in the red sports car stayed on my mind. That night, I was home alone and getting ready for bed with just the bedside lamp on, and I heard something in the hallway. It got louder as it came closer to the dark hallway towards my open door. It was like a thump, drag, thump, drag. I absolutely froze.

A broken hand curled around the frame of my doorway, and then that kid from the passenger seat was standing there, busted up like he was in the car, and I'm totally serious. He looked at me, and I can't really. I might recall the exact words of what he said, but it was something along the lines of, Hey, my friend wants you to know that he understands. You want you to know that he's okay. We both are.

Thanks for trying. He stood there for a few more seconds just looking at me, and then he stepped back into the shadows, let go of the doorframe, and I listened to him drag back down the hallway into nothing. I turned on every damn light that I could. I slept with the lights on for two full weeks. I clipped out their death notices from the paper later that week. Turns out, they were both high school seniors. On their way home from a wrestling tournament, their car had hydroplained from what the investigation determined.

I never have recognized the blonde-headed kid had he come to me as his healthy, unwrecked self. This freaked me the hell out that he came to me busted up. I still have the newspaper clippings, and I'll never forget them, nor the ghostly visit. Anyway, that's my experience. I've seen a lot of stuff in my 29-year career, but nothing quite that visceral before, nor since.

Due to my profession, I come across the dead, and anything related more often than your average Joe. In the past eight years, I've been working as a funeral director here in Germany, and me and my colleagues have experienced numerous, unexplainable things that have stuck with us. Out of these, I would like to share one with you today that was as clear as day, and surely not my imagination. The story begins at the end of a pickup in the middle of the night, around 2 a.m.

We had just finished rolling the casket into the cooling unit, and we were sitting by the desk around the corner, filling in our nighttime sheets. You need to know that our hygienic area and the makeshift office are separated by our cache of caskets, waiting to be put to use. The light there is always off, so all the lighting you get is the faint shimmer of cold white light,

coming from the hygienic area. I looked to my left as I finished writing my time sheet and was startled to see a dark figure standing right on the walkway between the caskets, illuminated from the back by the mentioned light. I slowly poked my colleague to look. He also saw the figure. And after a few seconds of blank staring, I called out thinking that it was one of our other colleagues, maybe.

No answer. so I called out a second time. Yet again, nothing. Since we had intruders in the funeral home before, both of us got up and slowly walked towards the figure, further calling out to it. About halfway towards the figure, it suddenly turned away and audibly walked out of sight

towards the cooling unit. My colleague and I quickly followed, but as we got around the corner, nothing was there. The big back door was still locked, and the only window was barred up and cluttered with stuff anyways. Out of fear of an actual intruder, we looked around,

searching anywhere but gave up eventually. Both of us are sure that we saw a ghost that night, since it was too clear to be some strange shadow. I'd be happy to hear your thoughts on that, because we're still looking for some explanation. Second post. Since so many of you requested it, and I've got some time on my hands,

I decided to give you more insight into my experiences and thoughts on ghosts, shadow figures, etc. This time I would like to address strange occurrences around the funeral home, the crematory, and other places connected to my job. death often strikes fast and unexpected, possibly leaving numberless spirits wandering around not knowing what happened to them. These, as it seems, follow their body around,

leaving them in places that the body passes on its way to the grave. Normally they don't appear to us as full-body spirits or shadow figures or whatnot. They mainly just mess around with stuff and make noises. such as one that recently started throwing personal data sheets, each and every one of the deceased gets one, off of the door of the big cooling units every time someone new gets into the unit. We push them in, close the door, add the sheet,

and once we've left, one or two of the sheets will all of a sudden fly off the door. We've already adjusted to this by going away, waiting one or two minutes, and then coming back. I'd like to have footage of that, but I don't have cameras to put up there. Another thing is that you'll hear voices sometimes. The most extreme example of that must have been my colleague running out of the office, claiming that somebody screamed at him. Voices are so common that we generally try to ignore them.

It's unintelligible in most of the cases, and if we understand things we usually can't make any sense of it. I personally talk to every single body that I prepare, stating what I'm going to do and what I'm doing just in case someone is listening. Little things go missing all the time too. Tools, pens, candles, and many other small objects. They're often gone for about a month until we find them again, in the most impossible places.

A key went missing once, and we later found it under a metal cupboard in our hygienic area. Odd thing was, when it went missing, it was hanging in its destined place on a holder in the office. This could as well be a colleague, but none of us gains anything from hiding stuff that we need constantly. We also have the occasional slamming-slash-opening of doors, drawers, shelves, and even empty caskets.

The last one happened to me while I was alone. I noticed a strange wooden banging sound, and something similar to creaking floorboards. I went to check it out, and I found a casket, which was ready to be used and on the ground, slowly pulling one corner of its lid up for about half an inch, and slipping back down causing the banging. I watched it for a couple of bangs,

and I got so fed up with it that I just decided to grab the lid and push it shut. It stopped after that. So, these are some of the random encounters that could be of paranormal origin that I've had over the past few years. Again, I'm looking for answers or explanations, and would be happy to hear your thoughts. I'll share more in future posts, since these things are not at all rare occurrences. I'll also try to get a hold of some evidence so you can better understand what me and my colleagues are dealing with.

About ten minutes ago, my boyfriend, a non-believer, and I were sitting in our living room watching a YouTube video about the real conjuring house. In the video, the new homeowners were talking about shadow people, and so I said to my living room, watching a YouTube video about the real conjuring house. and so I said to my boyfriend, I think I have a few experiences with Shadow People. And literally just as I said it, a weird black flash went through our apartment. I saw something black move very quickly past my peripheral, and my boyfriend described it as like a camera flash going off in our apartment.

We were both like, what the heck was that? he's trying to explain it away as some sort of light from outside, but we've lived here for years and never seen anything like that. This is not the first weird thing that has happened in this apartment. Our ceiling fan used to turn on by itself all the time, and it used to scare me so bad that I asked for it to please stop, and it's never happened again since asking it to stop.

I always feel like there's someone in the bathroom with me while I'm showering, to the point that I have spoken out loud to my boyfriend thinking he's in there, only to move the shower curtain and see that he's not. There have been times I could have sworn that I heard someone opening the bathroom door while I'm in the shower, but sure enough, every time I look, no one is there. One morning I woke up to my boyfriend whispering to me, it's time and I opened my eyes with a big smile on my face, only to see that he wasn't even home. The man who used to live here's name was Tom.

Tom died in our kitchen, and we moved into the apartment three months later. Tom was actually a family friend of my boyfriend's family. Tom knew my boyfriend when he was a kid. It was actually a fluke that we ended up moving into this exact apartment, When we first moved in, we had no idea that Tom used to live here and died here, until we already signed the lease and met our neighbor, who happens to be Tom's son. We oftentimes hear weird banging noises coming from the kitchen, and we both say out loud, somewhat jokingly, Oh, you stop it, Tom. And then the banging stops.

My boyfriend claims to not believe in any of this stuff, but I sometimes do think that we have a spirit visitor. The incidents that I'm describing are very far and few in between. They're not enough to convince me that we have a consistent haunting. I also have no proof that there is a spirit that's actually Tom. The weird camera flash slash-black whoosh just happened ten minutes ago, though, and we both saw it. So I thought I would share.

This is a story from when I was about six or seven. One of my old neighbors used to babysit some kids my age during the summers. Since they were about my age, and the only boys on my street, I would always go over to see them. My neighbor's house is right on the edge of a small forested area, and there are tons of trees. and areas to hide in. There was also a small path

cutting right through the wooded area, so sometimes people would go through my neighbor's yard to get to it. One time I was playing with my friends in my neighbor's yard when I looked over at one of the trees. I saw a dark black figure, like shadow black, standing beside the tree.

The figure was pitch black, no figure. facial features, no clothes, nothing. And he wasn't like seethru like a shadow is, it was just pitch black. He ducked behind the tree before I could get a better look. I told my mom about it, but she didn't think much of it since I was so young. A few months later, I was riding my bike past my neighbor's yard. I looked over at the trees, and sure enough, he was there.

I stared at him for a moment before looking back. back in front of me, hit the curb, and then scraped up my knee. When I looked back, he was gone again. And this is the last story that I have about him. About a year, after I first saw him, me and my sister were in the backyard playing on our play set. All of a sudden, I heard my mom yelling for me to grab my sister and come in. My sister was like three or four at the time.

I grabbed her and ran back in, but just before I got it, got inside, I glanced over at the fence, and there he was, staring at me and my sister. I asked my mom why she called us in, and she told us it was because she saw the man too, and thought he was some creep or something. She described it exactly as I had. Then I never saw him again. Nowadays, I still don't know if it was some sort of spirit, or just some type of creepy dude that I had. happened to see multiple times.

My sister was too young to really remember him, but me and my mom still talk about it to this day. Edit, tonight, I was talking to my mom about the Shadow Man, and she told me that one time she was pulling out of our driveway, and she saw him in our other neighbor's yard. She didn't tell me this originally, because she was afraid that it would scare me. I have a few stories. The first is mine, the second is shared between my family, but mainly my niece. One. My family has always told me that when I was a toddler, I would stand at the window and speak up to the tree outside.

And when they asked who I was talking to, I would say, Papa, which is what everyone called my dad's father, who died of cancer long before I was born. so I never even met him. They never really felt anything bad about it because everyone loved him, and I would laugh and giggle and just talk away for apparently hours. And two, we were four when this happened, but my sisters are older, so they remember more and have told me countless times. After my parents divorced in 2004, my mom and two sisters, M. and AI, moved to a duplex next to my sister A, her boyfriend, D, and her daughter, E, who was born

a month before I was. While we lived there, E developed an imaginary friend named Justina, who told her to do sinister things, and also did some sinister things in the house. Justina apparently looked like E, and was the same age as her when she died. She told E that her and her parents were in a car accident on the road that we lived on. And later on we found out that there was actually an accident near our house where a family of three died. Anyways, she would tell E. to turn on the gas burners on the stove and touch them. And if she didn't, she would harm E's family, which apparently she was capable of doing because while they were moving in,

She threw a dime at A's head, because she had reprimanded E earlier. This was a common occurrence. If someone yelled at or spanked E, and then was there alone, something weird would happen to them. M was babysitting E, and E was doing the usual bad child behavior, and got spanked for swearing at M and then was sent to bed. Later on, M was reading a book for her high school class, and saw, E come out of her room in the corner of her eye and start spinning on the computer chair, something we did all the time.

When she got to the end of her paragraph, she went to yell at E to go back to bed, and the chair was empty and kept on spinning, even though no one was in it. No one was making it move. She was just speechless and then found E asleep in her bed. Another time, AI was babysitting E and refusing to go to bed. So, AI yelled at her and made her go to bed, crying like children do when they don't want to go to sleep. When AI went to sleep on the couch that night, she woke up and felt a weight on her chest, and she couldn't move or breathe. And when A&D walked in, it immediately stopped.

After all this happened, they looked into it and found the article. with pictures of the family, and Justina looked exactly like my niece. I don't remember anything happening, but I know I experienced some things because one time I was staying the night and Dee was messing with the living room TV, with the remote from their bedroom TV, and I was so scared, because I thought she was coming for me, and I didn't know what to do. I'm hoping this won't get too long, considering there isn't too much depth to this story. At my high school, we have an old stage and a new one.

Not going to disclose the name for privacy reasons. The older one doesn't really get used as much since the construction of the new one, and is actually getting bulldozed this summer. Now, there's been rumors of both stages being haunted for as long as I've known. I know upperclassmen who swear they saw an old woman sitting up on the catwalk, but when they went to check it out, no one was there. The old stage is where my story takes place. During some free time one day, me and a few other friends went to investigate the old stage.

We were messing around in the costume area, backstage, and in the sound booth. We even pulled out a cheap ghost tracker app just for fun. Keep in mind, this is during the school day, but it's almost pitch black in there. We started to leave, and the people that got to the doors first held them open for us, so that allowed a little bit of light to come in. As we were walking back up the rows of seats to leave, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It looked like a woman on all fours quickly crawling towards me.

Now, this wasn't a normal crawl. It was practically a sprint on her hands and feet. She had dark, messy hair, and ragged clothing. I quickly did a double take, and she was gone. Normally I would say that I just got in the spirit of things and tried to convince myself that I saw something, but the way my heart jumped, I know that that can't be true.

I don't know what I saw there, but it scared me more than anything else ever has. So, for context, my great-grandpa on my dad's side was a total badass. He was there at Normandy on D-Day, fought, and then his entire platoon was blown to pieces. He was dragged away to a German POW camp and pronounced dead when his dog tags were found in a puddle of blood. For a year, my great-grandmother insisted that her husband was still alive out there, and then the camp was liberated, and he went home a Purple Heart awardee. He had a big family, had a long life, and was all around a great dude.

Ten years after he passed, my brother is in a Boy Scout, and my dad is the troop leader. They were working on a badge that required them to tour the local library. While on the tour, the librarian shows off the genealogy section of the library. It is massive, and it's composed of rows and rows of files in multiple metal drawers. She explains that they contain things like newspaper articles, death records, etc. From our county dating back to the 1800s. She then opens a random drawer and pulls out a random file. Um, that has my grandpa's name on it, my brother says.

on the file it was labeled with my great-grandpa's name and a date shocked the librarian opens it and inside is the newspaper article announcing the date of when he died on D-Day and a bit

about him and my grandma we didn't even know that that article existed before that day obviously my brother and dad are thoroughly creeped out as there was literally no way that woman could have known to pick that file.

Was this just a weird coincidence? Or something else? I apologize if this becomes a lengthy story, but I would like to tell you a story of how I encountered what I can only describe as a manifestation of evil. Perhaps a demon? Perhaps a rather angry spirit of less biblical form? So, this was about... seven years ago.

I was living with my father in a mobile home in Palmdale, California. I've always been the kind of paranoid person. It was worse when I was a kid. That being said, I tended to get up at night to do a perimeter check and walk around the inside and outside of the house. This always goes well. I never find anything. One day, however, I got up to do my check and something.

Something was... off. Something in the air? How heavy it was? How cold it was? The lack of music from across the street, the pressure. I couldn't tell what, but I knew for a fact that something was wrong. Being myself, I got up to do a check anyway. As I went from my bedroom to the kitchen, the air got colder.

The feeling was not pleasant. Instead of going out the front door as normal, I continued to the dining room. I did a check of everyone's bedroom and made my way to the living room. Before the living room, there's a tiny hallway, and at the entrance to it, I stopped dead. That air started to get hot. The rest of the house was cold. As I continued down the hallway, the air got hotter and hotter, and the pressure in the air got greater. This happened every inch that I traveled until I reached the door onto the porch.

Once I was there, the pressure and the temperature were at their max. I could tell that whatever was there was not normal, and not something that I should be involved with. But something was drawing me to open the door. I reached out my hand and touched the knob and immediately was filled with the deepest rage and hatred that I have ever felt. I held on to the door handle for a few moments before realizing that I was even doing it. I let go and felt some kind of shift in pressure. Like it was agitated.

It was getting hard to breathe. I spoke out loud and said, I do not know you, and you are not welcome in this home, with as much confidence as I could find. It seemed to be in a little. enough. The presence faded away, and it got much cooler. I could hear the crickets, and then the neighbor's music. Everything was normal, but I didn't go back to sleep that night. Is anyone else find that they experienced paranormal happenings more when they were younger? I had this soldier toy holding a flag who would sing We Will Rock you when you pushed a button, but it stopped working. for whatever reason, so I took the batteries out and saved them for another toy. Anyway, like I usually would, I packed my toys away and climbed into bed.

Bunk beds were the stuff back then. I looked down at the floor. All my toys were packed away, so it was time for sleep. Usually it's very easy for me to fall asleep, but for some reason, I couldn't. The hairs in the back of my neck were standing up, and I started freaking out. I threw the covers off of me and looked down on my floor, and the soldier toy was there staring at me. I screamed for my mom, and she could see me clearly distressed as I tried to explain what happened, but she just put it down to me forgetting to put that particular toy away.

There's no way that I forgot to put the toy away. I was a very tidy child. When I was about four or five, I remember waking up to somebody. talking to me, but of course nobody was there. I kept hearing a little voice that said, Hi, hello, good morning, how are you? I tried finding the source of the sound, and according to my memory, it was coming from a plush lobster that I put in my closet.

I noticed that it was moving on its own, and I think trying to wave. Well, as nice as this little lobster was, I was terrified and ran out of my room to tell my mom. She told me the sound had to be the hamster running on the wheel. Except the hamster was all the way downstairs, and I'm pretty sure that what I heard was someone talking. The lobster wasn't mechanical in any way. It was simply a plush lobster, with a hole for puppeteering. and that was it. No voice box, no nothing.

Although I did have electronic toys at the time, I am positive that none of them said anything that I heard that morning. Hey there, friends. I hope that you enjoyed this collection of scary stories on this episode of the As the Raven Dreams podcast. If you did, make sure that you follow the podcast on whatever platform that you're utilizing, and if the platform you are on has a rate the podcast option, please consider doing so. Those ratings push the podcast into the algorithm,

and we all know how the algorithm controls everything, so yeah. I also do have a Patreon. If you go to patreon.com slash as the Raven Dreams, you can support the channel further. For as little as a dollar a month, you can get early access to all of my content in audio format. The content's a little different as it's based on what I upload to my YouTube side, but it's the same stories, just in different collections of stories than how they're presented here. Speaking of stories, if you have one you would like to submit to me, please go to as the ravendreams.com

and click the button in the middle of the screen that says submit your story. These stories are mostly sourced by listeners, so let's keep the podcast alive. If you've got one, I'd love to read it. Anyways, friends, I hope you're all having a beautiful day and a lovely week. And I hope I see you again very soon. But until then, remember you're loved, you're valid, you're important. You're the best you that you can be, never forget it.

And until next time, much love and sleep well.