As The Raven Dreams Podcast - Hell Or High Water by Ray Beaman | #CreepyPasta Narration

Episode Date: July 17, 2021

I'll figure this out, I'll put this puzzle together... Come Hell Or High Water... PLEASE Check Ray out on all of his platforms. This man is an amazing author and deserves SO MUCH recognition. http://www.awritestruggle.com  http://www.instagram.com/a_write_struggle  http://www.twitter.com/awritestruggle  Want to see your story Featured in a video? Send it my way!  ➤  https://www.astheravendreams.com/submit  Or Post It To My Subreddit!  ➤ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream  ✯✬✯✬✯✬ New Terrifying True Scary Stories - Mon, Wed, Fri. Horror Fiction on Saturdays! ➤ https://www.youtube.com/c/astheravendreams?view_as=subscriber?sub_confirmation=1 Watch TRUE Scary Stories! (Glitch In The Matrix, Deep Web Horror, Etc.) ➤ https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyjanWDZygZ-cq9gavLVSGHbuC9XkpYkW  Watch CREEPYPASTA and FICTION ➤ https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyjanWDZygZ_RmFLHdyo7XdwhcsyR3rFU  All stories come with a Mild Content Warning for Language and/or Graphic content. Viewer Discretion is advised. ✯✬✯✬✯✬ 【The Nevermore】 Subscribble to the Chibble! ➤ https://www.youtube.com/c/astheravendreams?view_as=subscriber?sub_confirmation=1 Raven Investigates ➤ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCX9TQVx8YUuuI5gBP58NTtA Spotify! ➤ https://open.spotify.com/show/1EFYMKPBTTkmKyDla2JE1Q Apple Podcasts! ➤ https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/as-the-raven-dreams/id1543612283 Patreon ➤ https://patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams Channel Memberships ➤ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkW0ihdMHfBUjQrMKjRto6g/join Merch Store ➤ https://teechip.com/stores/astheravendreams Kofi-Shop ➤ https://ko-fi.com/astheravendreams/shop Twitter ➤ https://twitter.com/RavensDreamYT Everything Else ➤ https://www.astheravendreams.com/the-nevermore You're valid, and you are important- Never let anyone tell you otherwise.  ✯✬✯✬✯✬ 【TIMESTAMPS 🕠】 0:00 ➤ Hit That 👍 Button if you liked the video! 0:07 ➤Hell Or High Water by Ray Beaman   38:35 ➤ Leave A Comment, Let Me Know What You Thought!   ➤ Bloodhounds get 10 times more neuronal information from their nose than humans get from their eyes. ✯✬✯✬✯✬ 【Disclaimer】 ➤All stories within are used w/ 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! #TrueScaryStories #Reddit #AsTheRavenDreams Be sure to *subscribe* if you like any of the following; #GlitchInTheMatrixStories #DeepWebHorrorStories #CryptidEncounters #RedditScaryStories #ASMR #CreepyTrueStories #Creepypasta #RedditGhostStories #DeepWoodsHorrorStories #DogmanStories #SkinwalkerStories, #RedditStories - Or Really anything, I'm a pretty diverse person.  --- 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

Today's story is hell or high water by Raymond Beeman. My fingers. I need to push them. Push them in. Push them through the delicate, squishing balls that are my eyes, through and into the inside of my skull, into that dark, hollow space. and I need to grasp what is housed inside.

I need to pull it, to destroy it, to ruin it. I need to remove it, pull it free, back out of the small spaces on my face, back out, into my hands, free from my body and free from its temple. And then I need to squeeze. I need to tense, I need to clench with every ounce of strength in my body. Transform it, reduce it, erase it completely.

I need to keep going until my brain is nothing more than a liquid. A horrid, sticky mess that drips through my fingers. Nothing but remnants of a personality, a dirty mess of memories and regret. that fall unaided to the floor. And then, I can be free. Free from my past. Free from my choices. Free from my nightmares.

And free from myself. And that is the only way that it will ever stop. I cannot go on. I cannot continue for any longer. The pain is real and the pain is everlasting. I cannot sleep. I cannot escape. Every night the dream is the same.

I close my eyes and my subconsciousness fantasizes of oblivion. The in inky blackness of nothing. The open void of thoughtless existence. It haunts me. It torments me. I imagine not imagining. My consciousness ceasing and on my own reality fading. My mind fixates on the horrifying piece of decay and the endless ocean which is death.

I am a ship in the sea of forever and every night I take on more water. I've known it for a long time now. But it only gets worse with each and every passing day. I may be the ship, but the vessel is sinking. When I awake, it is always the same. In that moment, those fleeting few seconds where my mind returns to me and my own life burns back into the fray, I usually feel a slight glimmer, a festering hint of sadness.

It is a feeling that persists, and it is always. Always there. Almost as if, for that split second before I return from the void, I am saddened to realize that I have yet again awoken from my slumber. That I have yet again opened my eyes. That I yet again continue to breathe. It usually dissipates somewhat, and I usually just continue on with my day. that morning, however, there was no feeling of sadness, but a thought, a memory which had persisted, one of which I had carried with me, back from the realm of sleep, and back into the waking nightmare which is my life.

It is clear, and it is crisp, and it is encapsulated by three words. three single words that for some reason together create a feeling of despair. A despair so deep. One, like none of which I have ever experienced throughout my entire life. To the tombs. Before I can even start to comprehend the words, my phone begins to ring. Hello? Dante, I didn't wake you, did I?

Yes and no, Matt. Yes and no? No, there is an interesting question. One for another time, perhaps? Dante, look, listen, there's something which I need you to look at, quite urgently, actually. It's a tape, and it's not the usual kind of tape. So, wake up, will you? I posted it through your door last.

night. Go get it. It's in your hall. I yawn and climb from bed. What do you mean, not the usual kind? Me, Luke, and Lily foundered at the old hospital last night. You really missed out there. Lily spent most of the night screaming. It was a blast. But no, really, I'm getting distracted. I really need to know what you think you see on this tape. What I think I see? It's Probably just going to be the usual specks of dust that you three idiots convince yourself her orbs. I highly doubt that you finally found yourself a ghost. Matt went silent as I bent over to retrieve the tape. No, Dante, you really don't understand.

This? This isn't that. We found this tape there. It's not one of ours. We all watched it. it, all three of us, but it was... Different. What do you mean different? As in it wasn't the same.

Dante, all three of us watched it last night, at the same time. And for each of us, we all saw something different. We spoke about it after, and we all saw something entirely different. Dante, this is something else. Something else. Are you messing with me? Again, Matt paused. Just watch the tape, Dante, and call me back straight after.

I agreed and hung up the call. Matt really hasn't had his coffee this morning. I had used to be a paranormal investigator. Eh, paranormal investigator. Try putting that on your CV. We had bits of work here and there. We made a small amount of money, but it was never really about that. with us. To us, it was about the experience and about our friendship, and it used to be a great

deal of fun. Looking back now, those days, they were probably the best days of my life. That was before everything changed. A year prior, had been the worst year of my life. Everything of importance, everything of value, every single thing which used to hold merit, had been eradicated from my world, shattered by my own hand and destroyed by my own hideous choices. I had lost it all, and essentially, I had lost my life. The pain had become unbearable, and since then, I had disappeared from everything and everyone. I had hidden myself away from my friends, and I had hidden. I'd beaten myself away from the horrid chaos of the world outside of my shell.

Essentially, I had become a conundrum, a question of a person. One neither living nor never truly dead. I've become trapped within one room, trapped within my own mind, and trapped within my own regrets. I had stumbled, and I had fallen. After all, there's nothing like loss to truly remind you of what you once had... Wait, I immediately paused. I've done this before. Immediately the recollection began to course through me.

There is nothing like loss. The words were stark. The words were clear, but more importantly, the words were familiar. I felt as if I had thought them before over and over a countless number of times and always right before experiencing something horrible. I did not know where the thought had come from, but it was there nonetheless, born from nowhere. Inception unthinkable. It stopped me dead in the hallway, and it held me in place as it burned through me, smoldering my mind and setting my consciousness ablaze.

Of course. You've thought them before. Get it together, Dante. I took a few deep breaths. Get it together. The weight of the tape in my hand reminded me to move on. I quickly continued into my living room, trying my best to leave the unseemly thought behind me in the hallway, but it followed me in regardless, and it pulsated within my mind as I slipped the tape into my old VHS player.

The screen hissed slightly, and then a solid white background materialized on my television, followed by a series of numbers. 23.11. 10.1. 9.2. 11. 11. Almost as quickly as the numbers had materialized, they had vanished, only to be replaced by a fleeting frame, a picture, which lasted only a second, but a second was all that it took. To look at it, it would seem normal. It was just a pillow, after all. The flower imprinted against its pink softness was finely woven, a pattern that was intricate and beautiful, in design, but callous and unforgiving in the feeling which had stirred within

me. Guilt? Sadness? Embarrassment? Feelings coursed horribly. Their nasty blackness bleeding violently through me as they stuck firm to my insides, infecting me, corrupting me. The weightiness of their sensation lingered as the frame skipped, and a figure of a man appeared on the screen.

His features were nothing but darkness, a vague outline of a person with no eyes, no face, and no soul. He remained stationary on the screen. Then, after a few seconds, he slowly began to produce a piece of paper and began to read. His voice was slow, almost too slow. It sounded like it had been manually stretched to an impossible length, and the result was a deeply disturbing noise which played nastily upon the ears. It was deep, it was haunting, and no matter how hard I willed myself to turn off the video, I could not move.

My hands shook by my sides. Very... My lips trembled. The time has come. I felt as if my mind dissolved as the man continued. He is here. I can hear him at the door. Dante, we have failed.

The words were there, but it is too late. He is trying to get in. He will get in. I cannot stop him any longer. Here he comes. Carefully, he placed the paper back down and turned his eyeless gaze back at me. We are going to burn, Dante. Our flesh will give way to bone.

We will scream for the end, but it will never come. We are going. And then, the video ended. For the longest time, I just stood there, unable to comprehend what I had just witnessed. What did I just witness? Nothing made sense. The tape alone could have simply been dismissed as just a hoax, a cruel joke that my friends were playing on me,

albeit with little taste. but I could not bring myself to accept this conclusion. After all, how could I? It was already inside of me, and it had been for some time. It was the cold, hard truth that I had been trying to ignore, to forget, to hide from. Something was going on, and it had started long before I had opened my eyes this morning. It was so clear now,

and it was for this reason that I knew that. that the tape could not be ignored. Somehow, the tape was connected, interlinked and meaningful to the feelings coursing through my mind, to the thoughts, to the memories. This has all happened before. I knew it now, and I could not hide from it. In an instant, I remembered the forest.

And I remembered what happened there, how my friends had turned on me and how Lily and I had found the typewriter. I remember moving to Canto, living an entirely different life, and being stalked by Matthew and Lucas and once again finding the red, old-looking typewriter. Finally, I remembered the tombs, the horrid mess of a maze that me and Lily had become trapped within. I remembered the gruesome end of my friends, and I once again remembered that damned typewriter. The pieces had always been there, but it was only now that I was beginning to realize that they were part of a puzzle. How was this possible? I thought about phoning Matthew. I thought about phoning Lucas, and I longed to hear Lily's voice once again, but I could not bring myself to call either of the three.

The memories within me had painted my friends in an entirely different light. Are they even real? Are they even my friends? As much as I tried to fight it, I knew. The rot was already there, and it was slowly spreading. Seconds, minutes, or hours, nothing mattered. When I finally broke my gaze and moved my eyes from the television, it was already night. Somehow, I had been standing on the spot looking at the television for an entire day.

Confused, I made my way back to my bedroom to sleep. It did not come easy. My mind was all right with the memories never lived. When my eyes closed, I saw Lily's face contorted in fear. I saw the darkness of the tunnels and the dirty ink against Page, taunting me. exposing me. I willed. The images to cease, but they were relentless.

They burnt themselves unseen into my retinas. Their torment, lingering everlasting. Finally, after hours of nothing, my mind slowed and my eyes closed my fingers. Again, the horrid mass is there. Its weight heavy inside of my skull. its presence hideously apparent. I need to push them in to eviscerate my eyeballs,

to gain access and viciously rip out the tumor of me once and for all. Only then can I be free. Only then can I escape. I watch it in slow motion as I push my nails through the delicate balls and I watch without thought as they explode in a sticky, mess against my digits and slowly, but not carefully. I thrust my fingers through the sockets, and then it is here that finally, in a spectacular and audible fashion, that I awake with one never-ending, guttural, and terrified scream.

When my eyes finally focus and my breathing finally steadies, it becomes apparent that it is still night. Across my room, a fine friend. veil of darkness has settled, rendering objects obsolete, no more than mere shapes of their former selves. My walls were shrouded, and my environment felt threatening. Somehow, things did not seem right. After a few seconds, I heard it.

A tapping. What hell is that? Carefully, I climbed from my bed and stretched. rained my ears. I listened for a few moments. The silence of the world around me thick and terrible. The only noise that permeated the layer was the tapping as it continued on. Origin, impossible, and location.

Unthinkable. It's coming from the walls. Carefully, I begin to take small steps toward the walls. Tap. Tap. It's there, just in front of me. me. Tap. Tap. There's something inside the wall. Tap. Tap. As I neared the wall, I noticed a small hole, one of which was not there before. Quite visible around the opening, even through the

darkness, was a noticeable growth of mold. It extended out in a spiraling fashion, almost as if growing in a weave from the hole as it spread outward, infecting the surface around it with its horrid, decaying nature. The mold, however, was not what caused my heart to skip and my vision to blur. That, well, that was the clearly identifiable eyeball which looked at me from inside of the wall. I struggled to breathe as I struggled to talk. The tapping continued and my eye remained fixed. Looking out into my bedroom, out at me, a few more taps followed before suddenly, the room around me fell silent.

And then a whisper could be heard coming from inside the hole. Dante... This isn't real. Dante... This is real. Unfortunately, for you. No. this cannot be real.

Dante. The voice spoke once more, purposefully stretching the pronunciation of my name. The time has come. Reality was over. For so long now, I had taken the concept of reality for granted. I had assumed that the air which I breathed,

that the food that I tasted and that the love which I felt was, real. I'd spent years, decades even, just living content, never questioning, never asking. I had been happy enough to seal myself inside of myself, to hide away and pretend, but for no longer. That was apparent now. After all, how could I hide for any longer? The voice coming from the wall was clearly Lucas is. He laughed almost in slow motion before he continued to speak. You are beginning to see everything now, Dante.

You know that you have to watch the tape again. It's inevitable that you do. The story says so. It's been written. We both know that you don't watch it tomorrow, but we both know that you've finally do the day after that. Come along now, Dante. You love stories, right?

So you, more than anybody else, should be able to appreciate that there is no escaping the plot. Story always has to finish, Dante. Still, though, fortunately or unfortunately, For you, I really cannot decide which right now. Still, though, who is to say that his story is actually over? Even when it ends. My mind swelled, and for an unfathomably long time, I stood silent, staring at Lucas's eye through the hole as he stared back.

Our gaze, unshakable. until finally my mouth opened and I spoke no I do not want to I am not watching it again I cannot just leave me alone please I do not deserve this anything but just please anything but this I just want to be left in peace can you just not leave me in peace Lucas laughed to the wall Don't be silly, Dante. You know that you deserve this. Fight. All that you want. It only makes matters so much more ironic. Just watch the tape, Dante.

Without thinking, I turned and rushed back to my bed, throwing myself under the covers as Lucas's laugh carried from behind the wall. No, I'm not watching it again. again. Dante, don't be such a child. No, I'm never watching it again. As I lay wrapped in the quilt and the newfound horror of my existence, the thought was cemented within me. It grew strong and it transformed into an unbreakable conviction. Deep down, I knew the plot could not advance if I refused to watch the tape. Deep down, I knew that the horrible events would cease if I stayed strong in my refusal, but I also knew that I would not

be hearing the end to my torment. I had to endure. The end could not come, and I had to ensure that. The thought was now part of me, and it followed me into unconscious oblivion as my eyes closed. I am not watching it again. When I awoke the next morning, the mold had spread. The entirety of the four walls within my bedroom were caked in the horrible mess, and the smell of rotten decay hung heavy in the air. The walls had been reduced to nothing more than a black mess, a visual representation of the horrific things that had seeped unrestricted into my soul and into my life. Shortly after waking, I decided to move my mattress into the living room.

As the day progressed around of me, I thought about leaving my house. I imagined being outside, away from the nasty mold and the terrible things which had come to live within my home, but I knew that I could not. All around me, I felt as if I could feel my life being written for me. From the tape, to the mold and to the horrific visit I had received from Lucas, and even the events which had come before, the forests, the letters, and the tombs, I had no control over any of it. as the sick words fell from the writer and the ink solidified onto the page my life transformed and his will would become my reality. I can see it now. Almost as if from another reality entirely I could hear his words drift from the cracks

and out, out through the gaps in the lines of his world and straight into mine. I tried my best to. ignore. No, I spoke aloud, pausing the sentence before it could even be completed. I will not do this anymore. Yes, you will, Dante. The words sounded as they fell across the page. No, you have to stop. Again, the words fell, despite my protests. Can you not see the irony in your requests? I cannot take this any longer. Who are you? Why are you doing this to me? I felt the hand to move again, and then he answered.

Such a silly question, Dante. Why ask something that you already know the answer to? I already know the answer? I don't care anymore. I cannot take it anymore. Just stop, just stop, stop. What's more of the words fell? Dante, why even fight?

everything you are saying to me right now is because of me and it is because of you too just watch the tape you know that you don't have a choice not really after all I'm going to be writing it in a second anyway please don't make me watch it I can't face the end the hand paused for a moment

before typing once again it's the only way Dante We have to win. He's almost here. He's almost here? I did not know what he meant, but it filled me with dark dread regardless. My breath quickened, as I called out one last time. D.A.?

Please, no, D.A. Come back. Come back. He was gone. The day moved around me in slow motion. The unsettling thoughts and won. realizations which had occurred swam around. Their solid form personified by the growth of mold which had now extended forth from my bedroom.

It had spread quickly, consuming and eradicating everything in its wake. It streamed thick against the walls in the hallway, and now it had slowly made its way into the front room where I had decided to sleep. Along its path, newfound holes had developed in its wake. eerily dark circles which led to nowhere. Gaps in my mind and gaps in my existence. I tried my best to ignore the encroaching decay. I tried my best to will myself to leave my home, but none of it mattered. I knew not with all of the energy I could muster,

with all of my strength and all of my will, I knew there was no way that I could leave. After all, that was not how the story was meant. to end. Sleep did not come easy that night. But when it did, so too did the dream. This time, however, it was different. In the dream, I was in a room, no, a house. I was stuck there, trapped, somehow.

Every day was the same. There was no night and there was no ends to the blinding light or to the continuation of my pathetic existence. It felt, so long ago, yet it felt so real. So relevant. Somehow, I knew it was another life not lived. Another experience that I never experienced.

When I awoke, I did not scream. This time I found myself smiling. And that was when I heard the tapping. Tap, tap. I rose from the mattress on the floor and made my way towards the closest hole in the wall. Tap. Tap.

I could already see the eye waiting for me through the gap. Tap. Tap. Lucas, please. How do I end this? The response came, but not from the expected party. Dante? It's me.

Lily. Oh my God. It's her. Immediately I rushed towards the wall. Hold on, Lily. I'll get you out of there. I promise. I won't lose you again. No, Dante, stop. It's all part of the plan. You need to listen to what he says. He's trying to help you after all. You have to watch the tape again. It's the only way out of this mess. His words have been guiding you so far longer than you even realize.

So, you have to trust what he says. Trust me, Dante, even if I'm simply speaking his message, you can get out of this. Slowly, I nodded my head. A tear fell down slowly from my eye as I longed to hold her one last time. I'm scared, Lily. I know more than I did before. I know that somehow I've been living these stories that they've all been connected, but I don't know why. That's the last piece, and I'm scared that if I do not realize,

soon something bad is going to happen. I just... I need to figure this out, Lily. I have to do this myself. I can fix it. I can figure it out. I know that I can. She laughed slightly. That was always your curse.

You have to fix things. Working alone at life takes so much from you. In the end, it'll take everything. But you already know that. She's right. She's always right. I know, Lily. What do I need to do now?

I felt her soft breath drift perfectly through the hole as she sighed. Sleep, Dante. Advance the narrative. Tomorrow is the day. Tomorrow is the day. Lily, will I ever see you again? Silence. Lily?

She was gone. gone. With no other choice but to follow her beautiful instruction, I turned and made my way back to the mattress. As I sank in and pulled the covers close, I noticed that the mold had now long breached the walls in my front room and had begun spreading throughout the final remaining room. It did not matter, however. Somehow, as I closed my eyes and the sweet embrace took me, I knew that tomorrow, one way. way or another, things would be coming to an end. When I woke in the morning, my home was nothing more than wrought. The mold had completely surrounded the space around me, and it would soon consume what little remained. The last bastion was about to fall, and I knew that it was time.

I lifted the tape once more, slowly sank it into the VHS and prepared for the end of the story. The screen hissed slightly. Then the solid white background materialized once more, followed by the numbers. 23, 11, 10-1, 9-2, 11-11. Just as before, the frame quickly skipped and the pillow came into focus. The flower imprinted against its pink softness was finally woven. A pattern that was intricate and beautiful in design. but callous and unforgiving in the feelings it elicited.

Guilt, sadness, embarrassment. And then, a split second later, it skipped once more and the darkened figure came into focus. Slowly, he produced the piece of paper again and began to speak in slow motion. You almost have the understanding, Dante. Maybe it is not too late. I do not know if we know enough yet, but our time is unfortunately over.

It is time to bring this story to an end. The screen skipped once more and then, clear and unmistakable. It was there. The red, old-looking typewriter sat on a table, a ray of light illuminating it perfectly within the conval, of the shadows on the screen. It looked clean, it looked maintained, and it looked out of place amongst the mold-infested world that I now found myself a prisoner within.

A fresh piece of paper had been left within the typewriter. I knew, however, that this was not like before. Now, the page was only blank. It started slow. I felt the room move around me as the same. television drifted backwards into the wall behind it, the shape distorted and extended upwards, bleeding unnaturally into the outline of a door, which slowly fizzled into my reality. As the shape took form and unsettled nicely before me, four words slowly burned their way

into the wood. Without thinking, I stood up and moved towards the door and my hand made contact with a cold metal of the handle. I read the words once And then I read them again As my eyes settled on the title etched by fire into the door I knew that things were about to be over The four words were crisp And the four words were meaningful

And I knew that their meaning lay just within a turn of a handle As I turned and opened the way somehow I knew after all this suffering Absolution was in reach The words followed me As I stepped through into the abyss And further downward into the darkness below

They lingered And they haunted And they would never go away Hell or High Water So that was Hell or High Water by Ray Beeman and, if I may say,

one hell of a story. Interesting little twist here, I'm curious to see where things go in the last part, which I now need to read and narrate. So, I'm curious about those numbers in the video, if they're important.

Just know, Ray, whenever you listen to this, that I'm thinking about those, and I may or may not be doing some investigative work on them. Just saying. All right, friends, if you enjoyed this, please, we hit that thumbs up button. Leave me a comment, letting me know what you thought.

Leave a comment down there. Letting Ray know what you thought, because Ray, again, amazing author. I love working with this guy. And I'm actually sad. This series is almost over, but, you know, it happens. Yeah. If you want to support further,

there's always Patreon or channel memberships. I'm not going to spiel it. I'm just going to sit here and let the outro breathe because, yeah, curiousness. Curiousness indeed. All right, my friends. Sleep well.