As The Raven Dreams Podcast - Diary Of a Drifter, Part 3 by N. Murdock | #Creepypasta

Episode Date: September 16, 2021

I may have some things I want to say about a certain state. Just a fair warning, it won't be kind.  Want YOUR Story Featured In A Video On This Channel? Send It My Way! Direct ➤ https://www.astheravendreams.com/submit  Subreddit ➤ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream  Email ➤ [e-mail] Get Up to 24 hour EARLY ACCESS to my content, Your name in my videos, various other perks and even FREE ATRD Swag, all while supporting the channel! Join My Patreon, or Channel Memberships for as little as $1 a MONTH!   Patreon ➤ https://patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams Memberships ➤ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkW0ihdMHfBUjQrMKjRto6g/join ⋆——⋆★⋆——⋆ ⦕TIMESTAMPS/CREDIT⦖ 0:00 ➤ WARNING FOR CONTENT! 0:49 ➤ Diary Of a Drifter, Part 3 by N. Murdock   24:18 ➤ Leave A Comment, Let Me Know What You Thought!  ⋆——⋆★⋆——⋆ ⦕LEGAL DISCLAIMERS⦖ ➤All stories within are used w/ Either direct permission from the author- or under some level of CC license (where noted) True Stories are not verified, and should all be considered 'supposedly true'.  ➤Some Fonts used are from https://www.misprintedtype.com - Eduardo Recife makes some AMAZING fonts!  ➤If you need to contact me for Business purposes, please contact me at [e-mail] and indicate that the email is for business.  ➤All videos come with a content warning for language, potentially triggering situations, and disturbing content. Viewer Discretion is ALWAYS advised... I do scary stories- it's not all rainbows and daisies around these part.  #TrueScaryStories #AsTheRavenDreams #RedditStories Be sure to *subscribe* if you like any of the following; Glitch In The Matrix Stories, Creepy Encounter Stories, Deepweb horror stories, Darkweb Stories, Reddit scary stories, True Scary Stories, Creepypasta, Reddit ghost stories, Or really anything- my channel is pretty diverse. --- 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

Hey friends, just a quick intro here before we get into the story. Today's video is not monetized. The title should tell you why. The story has some harsh language, which I don't mind. Not a problem in my book, really. YouTube, however, doesn't like that. So at least not like so quick and heavily into the story. Again, I don't mind it personally, so I'm not going to change it.

So I'm just going to go ahead and do this one and not make it monetized. That said, because the video is not monetized, YouTube is likely to not. push it as hard. So any and all interactions with this video will be greatly greatly appreciated. Liking, commenting, watching all the way through, sharing, etc. Please, any and all that would be greatly appreciated and with that said, let's move on to the story. Today's story is Diary of a Drifter Part 3 Fuck Michigan written by Anne Murdoch. I need to say something.

Something serious. Something genuine. Something straight from the depths of my heart. Fuck Michigan. I mean honestly, why does anyone willingly live there? The people are rude. It's fucking cold all the time. And don't give me that, you must be a southerner shit either.

There's nothing to do. The food is goddamn. awful, and while we're focusing on all the thrilling attractions your shithole of a state has to offer, why don't we include a seven-foot-tall werewolf thing, straight up fucking terrorizing innocent cancer patients who clearly don't know when they're in over their fucking heads? God damn it. I hate Michigan. Look, if you've just stumbled across this little diary of mine, take your happy ass back to the first entry. If you're going to be a stubborn ass about it, here's the Cliffman.

notes version. I had lung cancer. Doc said I'm in remission, cool, decide to go on vacation to talk to people, experience life, met some fucker in Illinois who turned me into some weird paranormal dream shit, and now I'm haunted by a fucking door. Got it?

Great. Fuck you. Back to Michigan. So that whole door fiasco got me sort of fixated on the freaky and unnatural. I figured maybe if I focused my search efforts a bit, I might learn something, hopefully before I lose it, and actually open that fucking door. I found myself in America's northern bunghole, the Great Lake State.

I started asking around about weird stories, odd rumors. I came up short every which way, but one. The Dog Man. Everybody seemed to know the legend, and everybody knew somebody who knew somebody who'd seen the damn thing. never a first-hand account. The most common story goes that back in 1887 in Wexford County, a group of lumberjacks encountered a giant dog-like creature. Accounts seemed to vary as to what actually happened to these guys,

but they all ended with the words, Never heard from again. It sounded like a bunch of horseshit, or should I say dog shit. Oh, kill me. Anyways, the more I heard the story, though, the more interested I got, and believe me, it all made for an excellent distraction from that fucking door, which, at the time, seemed to only appear in place of vending machines, which meant I wasn't eating much.

Eventually, I did hear of more sightings. In the 1930s, a man was reportedly attacked by five wild dogs, except he said that one of them walked upright like a man. Depending on who you asked, though, those rumors supposedly date back to when natives lived on the land. Now, all of this is well and good, but it didn't exactly solve my problem of the interdimensional door that plagues both my waking life and my nightmares, which was my initial goal, if you remember. One of the people I talked with pointed me in the direction of a native man who lived out in the forest in isolation. Because he was rumored to know a thing or two about ghosts and shit.

I packed myself a little hiking kit and set out in the direction of the mystical medicine man. And, holy fuck, if I wasn't already dying, I would say that I need to quit smoking. But fuck it. Fast forward to that night, I had made the brilliant decision to try and navigate the northern forests without a guide, without a compass, and without any form of shelter. You're probably thinking, well, what the hell did you pack? And to that, I say, Eminem's, a travel toothbrush, and a sweater in case it got chilly. Get off my tits. I was carefully making my way through the undergrowth.

relying on my phone's flashlight to see. Apparently I had paid too much attention to my feet and not enough to where they were leading me because I walked straight into a low-hanging branch, knocking me on my ass. Ah, but don't worry, dear reader, my cat-like reflexes kicked in as I fell. And, by cat-like, I mean I yelled and flailed like a lunatic

and tossed my phone somewhere into the darkness. Let's just say that all the little wetsets, Woodland creatures learned a few new words that night. As I was dusting myself off, I looked to where my phone had landed about 15 to 20 feet away. At least the light was still on. I smiled a bit. It's the little victories, you know? Well, and then it died.

Fuck. I was feeling around in the grass, now almost completely blind when I heard a noise. Uh, kind of shuffly. I dismissed it at first. I mean, here I was on hand and knee making all kinds of racket. I probably just pissed off a squirrel or something. But then it happened again, and again. And that's when I saw it.

Standing just out of the corner of my eye was something. Someone? Shilabah. I froze for what felt like a long time. Neither of us moved. The air felt paper thin in the northern cold, a stiff breeze blew by and bit through to my bones. Hey, how you doing there, bud? I asked, trying really hard not to sound like I had a cold fear sweat, trademarked, trickling down my taint.

Nothing. No response. I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, the vague shadow of the same. this person or thing started swaying side to side. It was confusing, unnerving. Alrighty then, good talk, I stuttered out. Enjoy your, uh, yeah. I got up to start backing away, and the thing went rigid.

I froze, doing my damnedest not to piss it off. And that's when it screamed. It was the most unnatural sound I'd ever heard, like a cross between a man, a woman, and a panicked lamb. The sound echoed the trees bringing all the natural ambience to a striking halt. I could feel it vibrating in my teeth. It made me nauseous to listen to. My eyes teared up. I felt like my eardrums would burst.

I'm not even ashamed to say that I pissed myself. When the scream finally died out, I felt dizzy, like it had taken a part of me with it when it left. But dizziness gave way to sheer panic, as my eyes focused and saw that the creature had closed the gap between us and was now standing inches away from me. It was like some massive, feral dog standing upright on its hind legs. I'm only 5-11, but this thing towered over me. It looked down at me, its eyes glinting in the darkness. Nope. As fast as I could, I took off running to my left.

I couldn't see where I was going. I couldn't see the creature tailing me, but believe me, I heard the thing. Its footfalls were heavy, deep. It must have weighed a couple hundred pounds. So, there I was. was, dodging, ducking, dipping, diving, and, well, you guessed it, dodging again in near-perfect darkness. All around me, the sound of those massive paws tearing through the undergrowth mixed with that heavy, inhuman breathing. I screamed as I ran until my lungs were on fire.

I could feel the dogman getting closer, that sickly sweet, hot breath beating down my neck and violating my nose. I wanted to fall to my knees. I wanted to quit, to give up, to just let it kill me and be done with it all, but my body would not let me. At that moment, I thought it was just adrenaline. Fight or flight?

But now, looking back, I think there was just no way that I was going to go die in fucking Michigan. Even in the most dire of situations, I knew I could do better than that shitpox of a state. Anyway, back to me being chased. I ran and ran and ran some more. It was right about the time that I started to taste copper in my throat, that something unusual happened.

And yes, I do mean more unusual than outrunning a canine tank in the woods and bitch darkness. The fucking door came back. But more than that, it moved. Just slow enough for me to see it, but not slow enough for me to get out of its way. That goddamn door rose up from the dirt right in front of me. The sterile, pale light from its porthole window bleached the darkness away, making the world around it look like a line drawing.

I really can't describe it better than that. There was no color at all, no shades of gray, no greens, no browns. Even my own arms were turned white in the light of the door. And, as I'm sure you guessed, my dumb ass ran full force into the fucking thing. My head bouncing off of it, particularly hard, and I knocked myself out cold. Thanks, Dor. Eventually, I started to come around thanks to a voice calling to me. Buddy?

Buddy, wake up. Come on, man. I really can't be calling a hospital out here in the woods. I tried to open my eyes, but my vision was hazy. Listen, pal, the voice continued. You're probably going to see some stuff that doesn't make any sense, but I'm going to need you knots to flip out, okay? I tried to blink away the fog. Once, twice, I could just make out a shape standing over me.

Three times, four, things became a bit clearer. By the fifth or sixth attempt, my vision had most likely. returned and to my complete fucking horror, here was the dogman standing the fuck over me, flashing his gnarly fangs and it's terrifying grin. Wakey, wakey, trooper, he beamed. I was dead. I had to be, right? This was just my brain short-circuiting in my final moments.

Why else would the fucking Michigan dogman be standing over me talking to me? He sounded like Kevin Bacon, like when he was in tremors. Remember that? And why the fuck was he wearing a Detroit Lions poncho basketball shorts and crocs? I'm not gonna lie, Duder. You're probably tripping a bit right now. I was burning some African roots when you bumped your nog and I'm supposed to let you convene with the spirits of the forest,

but honestly, I'm just vibing so far. He trailed off, stroking his own fur. I tried to look around and get my bearings, but the walls were made of some amorphous, fleshy, substance. In the center of the, uh, ceiling, I guess, it was a miniature rotating cow that was emitting the only light in the cramped space. Look, I'll level with you here. I have no fucking clue how long I sat there watching the walls shit and the dogman pet himself. And that's not a typo, by the way. You didn't read that wrong. The walls were shitting from tiny little pink

buttholes. So I suppose I'll cut to when we finally sobered up. As you guessed it, the dogman wasn't really the dog man. He was a 20-something stoner named Ezra, and we weren't really in some flesh pit with poo on the walls. We were inside a very small trailer. When we were both able to speak and actually understand each other, I started pressing him for some answers. So, Ezra, you want to tell me what the actual fuck is going on in these woods? Oh, he hesitated. Not because he was hiding something, but rather, I think he was genuinely confused by the question.

Sure, man. Let's see. There's a woodpecker that's been making his nest about a ten-minute walk from here. About a week ago, I fed some peanut butter to a raccoon. I haven't seen many deer in a while, so I guess that's something. I don't know, bud. Not a lot happens in the woods. That's why I like it. Nothing and everything. All at once. Rividing. Um, how about the seven-foot-tall

werewolf that damn near killed me last night? Oh, yeah! His face lit up with recognition. Before he was immediately distracted by the lukewarm microwave burrito he'd placed in front of me a few minutes prior. Knock yourself out, Chief, I said, sliding the paper plate over to him. He took an eager bite out of it, dripping refried beans down his chin. Uh, what were you saying? He slurred through a mouthful of food. Big dog, tried to eat me. The fuck?

I was getting annoyed. Yeah, yeah. Okay, I'm with you. Uh, that's the dog man, bro. You know the dog man. Come on, everybody knows him. He's like, he's like the dog man, you know? I tried and failed to speak a few times before I gave up.

up. This kid was going to give me a fucking aneurysm. Right. Cool. I managed to force out. I slapped my knees and started to stand up. Well, this has been informative. Thanks for the hospitality and worst high of my life. But talking to you makes me wish my cancer would come back and grant me the sweet release of death. so I think I'm going to head out. I made my way to the door and was about to walk outside

when Ezra said something that stopped me in my tracks. That's not my door. I looked up and fuck me, he was right. Sitting right in front of me, with my hand, resting on the cold metal release valve was the door. My door. My thoughts started racing a mile a minute. How was it here?

How did I not feel it? How was I not vomiting? Why was my head not swimming? And then a singular thought bubbled up, repeating itself over and over until it was the only thing left. It warmed its way up my throat and out of my mouth. Why the fuck can you see the door, Ezra? What do you mean?

He leaned forward and his bean. bag chair and gestured at the door. It's right there. Why wouldn't I be able to see it? No, no, no, no, no, you don't understand. This, this thing isn't just a door. It's some kind of spiritual, supernatural shit. This door has been following me all over the goddamn country. Usually it pops up, makes me feel sick and dizzy, and I know this sounds weird, but it wants me to open it. It tries to make me open it. It doesn't sound, weird at all. He trailed off, making his way closer and inspecting the door. He looked it up and down, inspected the seams and hinges. Yeah, I can feel it too, like a, a pulsing deep inside my heart and

brain. Yes, I exclaimed. Exactly. That's why I came up here in the first place. Someone in town told me I could find a kind of medicine man up here in the woods. He found him, dude. His mouth hung open, and he never once took his eyes away from the door. No, the guy that I'm looking for, he's supposed to be Native American. Hell yeah, brother. He blindly went to pat my cheek and instead got me in the eye. One 30-second Chippewa, mom's side. I gotta tell you, though, I've never seen anything like this in my life.

Awesome. So, I came all this way for nothing. I don't know why this thing brought you here, man, but the supernatural stuff is in my wheelhouse. I know I probably don't look it, but I've been around the block a bit. He walked back to his beanbag chair and started rummaging through a backpack on the floor. People like to say that with ghosts and stuff like that, your best bet is to just leave him alone. But I found that you don't really get to the bottom of anything without diving headfirst into your problems. Ezra produced a rope from the bottom of the pack and started tying a loop around himself.

I started to question him, but he shushed me. He tied the other end to a thick metal safe that was sitting in the corner. While he was there, he opened it. I peeked over his shoulder and was surprised to find that the only thing inside was a single envelope. He grabbed it, walked back to me, without a word, slid it into the back pocket of my jeans. He made serious eye contact too, which made me feel a little objectified, if I'm being totally honest. You're not going to open that fucking thing, are you? I asked, with a bit more panic in my voice than I'm proud to admit. I'll just take a peek inside, see what we're working with.

Then I'll come back and we can talk strategy. I'll have the rope so I can't get too far and so I can find my way back. If I tug three times, just start wheeling me back in. That has got to be the stupidest fucking idea I've ever heard, I half shouted. Everything about this door screams open me if you want to fucking die. There's something on the other side of that door waiting, begging for some dumbass to come along and open it. I started to get anxious. My heart started beating like a drum.

My palms started sweating. The hairs on my neck all bow. bolted up and fellas, you know that weird feeling you get when you're super high and your pulse kind of shoot up into your gut? Well, that times about a million. But Ezra, he didn't seem to care. He just waved away my warning and strolled right up on that nightmare door. He looked at it like it really was just a door. He flashed me a reassuring smile and for a minute I almost had confidence in him. But, when he placed his hands

on the door, I felt like I was going to shit myself. The door disappeared before it was opened, and Ezra disappeared too. The rope was there, completely intact. I stood there, staring at the wall where the door had been

for what must have been ours. He never came back. Eventually, I used a satellite phone that was sitting on the table to call for help getting out of the forest. No fucking way was I going to risk meeting up with the dog man a second time, third if you count

my drug trip. When the Ranger got to me, I met him outside the trailer. I told him Ezra was sleeping. He seemed like he bought it. We hiked mostly in silence for a while. Every so often, the Ranger would try to make small talk, but I batted him

away with short, disinterested answers. We made it to a trail not long after we'd started, and my dumbass walked right past it and took the long way. Go figure. He had a little club car waiting for us. We climbed in and made the trip back down to town without incident. Once I was back by my car in the motel parking lot, I felt my stomach rumble. I guess I should have passed on that burrito.

I looked at the vending machine and wouldn't you fucking know it? The door was there. waiting for me. It still had an aura to it, but not the kind that made me sick and want to collapse. Let's just say if a shit-eating grin had an aura, that was what I was getting right now. I felt like the damn thing was mocking me.

I turned my back on it and got into my car. This is pretty much where this part of the story ends. I haven't been back to Michigan since, and, as you already know, I'm not going to get the chance to. If you're wondering what was in Ezra's envelope, thinking maybe it shines some kind of light onto things, it doesn't. I'm not going to share the first page of it.

It was written specifically to his mother. She passed away a long time ago, though. Don't worry. I visited her grave and I left it with her. No. At least she might have some closure out. in the Great Beyond, but the second page only raised a lot more questions. It was an obituary.

Ezra J. Holland. Born, October 8th, 1819 died January 24th, 1827. On the back, there was some chicken scratch, a short message, but one that a... threw me for a loop. Told you I've been around the block a few times. All right, my intro was a little long, so I'll try to make the outro shorter. A huge thank you to Mr. Murdoch for writing this story, for continuing this series, and for getting this one to me. I loved this part of the story.

I really love how the character is starting to not give a damn, as evident by the way this chapter was written. I really feel like, and this is also the reason why I don't mind the language in this one, I really feel like the language and how this one was formatted, the context really shows how little the character is starting to give, how little the character is starting to care about the situation around him. It's more about the door, right? It's more about what he's trying to find. Really, this character is a smart ass, and I love it so very much. Thank you, Mr. Murdoch. And a huge thank you to everyone who listens. Again, YouTube's probably not going to like this one, so if you would, give it a thumbs up, leave me a comment, letting me know what you thought.

If you're new, subscribe to the channel. If you would, if you want to. Yeah, all that good stuff. Thank you again for listening. Thank you again for submitting the story, sir. And thank you to everyone who is here for the channel and all that stuff, I guess. Yeah, I guess I will see you all in the next episode or the next video, whichever one you want to look at it.

Just, yeah, you get the point. Anyways, yeah, just sleep well. And I love you, Michigan.