As The Raven Dreams Podcast - It Breathes Beneath My Skin by E. Star | #Creepypasta Narration

Episode Date: March 29, 2022

There is something there, just under my skin. The doctors think I'm crazy but I've never been more sure of anything in my life... What Is a Creepypasta? A Creepypasta is a fire-side story, one told on a dark night, under the stars; the intentions are to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and keep you up at night. If you Enjoy Creepypasta, consider subscribing as I will post here frequently. On my main Channel, As The Raven Dreams, I do true scary stories multiple times a week, including; Deep Web Horror stories, Creepy Let's not meet stories, Stalker stories, Glitch in the matrix stories, and much more! Send a Scary Story My Way! ➤ https://www.astheravendreams.com/submit  Or Post it to my Subreddit ➤ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream  Support The Channel For Early Access and more for just $1 a month! (Includes early access to all 3 channels!) Patreon ➤ https://patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams YT Membership ➤ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkW0ihdMHfBUjQrMKjRto6g/join Check Out My Merch Store ➤ https://atrd.shop [TimeStamps] 0:00 ➤ Hit That THUMBS UP Button if you like Today's Stories! 0:01 ➤ It Breathes Beneath My Skin Submitted by E. Star  11:57 ➤ Leave A Comment, Let Me Know What You Thought!  ➤ The blue jay can be beneficial to other birds, as it may chase predatory birds and will scream if it sees a predator within its territory. It has also been known to sound an alarm call when hawks or other dangers are near, and smaller birds often recognize it and hide. Background Audio Courtesy of ESN Productions on Youtube ➤ All Stories used w/ Direct permission from the Author, or under some form of CC License (where Noted). True stories are not verified and are considered 'supposedly true'.  ➤All videos come with a content warning for language and sensitive content. Viewer Discretion is ALWAYS advised. This is considered horror content.  #CreepyPasta #AsTheRavenDreams #Nosleepstories --- 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

Lazang sur-gillet, Pugance-Moyerned 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 most recent machine-as-a-soo and the money to get-bass Bonanza. Without exigance

of misis and with the payments instantane. Hey, I've gained. Woo-hoo! Sentire the pleasure. Play-Ojo. 18-10 and plus,

1-Depos only depose only depot only deposition in Ontario. 50 tours on $1% $10% $10. DePoeoe to pay

to fashion responsible. The conditions so it's applicable. Bevenue at board of Viarai. Embarked and profited. Embarked and

relaxed. Ciroat. Bookine. Oh, that also. And profited. Via Rae, the voice that we

love that we am. Every night I can hear it. The breathing. In and out. In

and out. Slow and monotonous. I lie awake for hours listening to the noise until, at long last, I become so fatigued that sleep finally overcomes me. Only then can I enjoy a brief reprieve and silence. Sweet, blissful silence. Then in the morning I awake and go about my equally blissful, albeit mundane, day, until nightfalls, that is, and it's time for bed. And then it begins again.

In the breathing. In and out. In and out. Slow and moving. and monotonous. And it's not mine. I remember the first night that it happened. I was lying there, eyes closed and at ease,

and just about to slip away into a pleasant slumber when it began. In and out. In and out. Slow and monotonous. A slight rasp to it. I had bolted upright in bed and frantically switched on the bedside lamp. I was fully expecting to see someone or something in the room. There was nothing there.

I sat listening for a while, my heart still racing from the fright. Eventually I turned off the lamp and laid back down. However, moments later, it started up again, in and out, in and out, slow and monotonous, again I bolted upright, and I quickly flicked on the light. Nothing. Silence, once more. I clambered out of bed and searched the whole room from top to bottom, desperately looking for some source where the intermittent sound might have come from. Unfortunately, my frenzied search proved fruitless. Some watch shakenly and reluctantly, I climbed back into bed and switched off the light.

Not two minutes later, the breathing returned. In and out. In and out. Slow and monotonous. Rasp. This time, though, I forced myself to stay calm. I lay there in the dark, straining my ears to pinpoint the sound. It was definitely in the room. and it was very close. A little too close. In fact, it was almost as if...

And then, with alarming clarity, it hit me. Right in the pit of my stomach. With rising terror, I realized it was coming from beneath the bed covers. It was coming from inside of me. beneath my own hyperventilating gasps, I could hear it loud and clear. In and out, in and out, slow and monotonous and slightly raspy. This time I bolted from the bed. I stumbled through the darkness and bumbled into the bathroom, smacking on the light as I entered.

Gripping the cold ceramic basin with both hands, I forced myself to look at my pale, scared face in the mirror. My reflection seemed fine. Well, aside from the paleness and the scared facial expression, also I could no longer hear the breathing, just the psychotic thudding of my heart as it pounded away in my chest. I sat myself down on the edge of the bathtub and proceeded to take a few slow and monotonous breaths of my own. Once I'd calmed down, I began to reason with myself.

I had clearly imagined it. I'd been working too hard lately, not getting proper sleep. The mind plays tricks when it's tired, overtired. That's all it was. So, I took a sleeping pill before I went back to the bed that night, and every night for a week after that. All in the hopes of sick. setting my mind and my sleep pattern back on the straight and narrow.

Ah, how wrong I was, though. How wrong I was. In the subsequent weeks, the breathing returned. Every time I lay down to go to sleep, I would hear it. In and out. In and out. Slow and monotonous, every single. time.

I started taking sleeping pills every night. For a while, they helped, until they stopped working. And the breathing returned again. A visit to the doctor's surgery proved completely and utterly pointless. You could not find

a single thing wrong with me. I was totally fine with a capital F. Everything was perfectly normal. I had no need to worry. He reckoned the issue was purely psychological and recommended a psychiatrist. Quite frankly, he thinks I'm crazy, but I know that I'm not.

Sometimes I can feel it, this thing that has taken up residence under my flesh. It moves. Well, more accurately, it slithers. It slithers around inside of me. It makes my skin prickle and crawl in both fear and disgust. Maybe if I had just remained hearing the thing, then maybe I would have agreed with the doctor, but feeling it move around, no, no, no, no, I know that I am not. Crazy.

This thing that I can hear breathing can feel moving around underneath my skin at night is real. I know it is But my efforts to convince him were futile And there was no way in hell He would even consider performing surgery I was destined to live the rest of my life Sharing my body with this thing This

Parasitic entity that has now began To feed on me But the doctor failed to notice just how emaciated I had become He acknowledged how sleep-deprived I looked. He prescribed me some useless sleeping pills. He thinks I'm crazy. Though, perhaps, I am slowly being driven crazy now, as each night passes. Having no other options available to me, I must lie awake each and every night listening to the unnerving breathing.

And then feeling the occasional slithering movement. In and out, in and out, slow and monotonous. Slither, slither, and I can do nothing. I can only wait for my brain to crash from exhaustion, allowing me to escape into the peaceful silence of sleep. Scratch, scratch, scrape, my eyelids fly open in both excruciating pain and wild panic. My ears are yet again. met with the dreaded breathing, and now I can feel it clawing at me from the inside.

In and out, in and out, slow, and monotonous slither, scratch, scrape. My insides are on fire. I can't take this anymore. The doctor would do nothing to help me, so I must do it my Despite being in complete agony, I managed to drag myself out of bed. I crawl on all fours to the kitchen. I force myself uprights to flick the light switch and stumble my way towards the knife block. With a determined effort, I grab a handle and I pull.

The blade slides easily out of the block, glinting in the electric light. Holding the knife, I slump back down to the floor on my knees. Now the breathing intensifies in and out, in and out. Raspier now, quicker, louder. My head feels like it's about to implode with the sound. This has gone on for far too long. I take a deep breath and I plunge the knife deep into my abdomen. Sharp, searing pain overwhelms me.

spurts and oozes out of the self-inflicted wound, but I can't stop. Not now. I can still hear it breathing. So I pull the knife out and I plunge it in again and again and again. The blood is thick, sticky, and hot and smells too much of iron and copper. It's nauseating. But I I still can't stop. Not until this thing has been removed from inside of me. The blood continues to ooze out around me. There's a pool of it now. I've grown numb to the stabbing slicing blade.

I could finally reach the thing and start to remove it. Peace by bloody peace. A deformed sort of limb. What must be a head? Part of a torso? All the while I grow lightheaded and my vision begins to blur. As the last remnants of the creature are gouged out of me, I keel over onto my side. The bloodied knife slipping out of my equally bloodied hand in the process, it clatters to the floor.

as my vision begins to fade and the world dissolves into blackness the breathing slowly but surely disappears so this was it breathes beneath my skin by E. Star submitted directly by E. Star

actually wrote a story I did a long time ago on my other channel called A Return of the Dreaded Strangler, I believe was the title. And I remember that being a really good story. So I was actually really excited to see that they had submitted this one to me. So a huge thank you to E-Star. I'm unsure if he or she, so I'm just going to keep it neutral and say they, or you. A huge thank you to you. Really do appreciate you submitting the story to me.

Really, really appreciate it. Really, really good, creepy, body horror. thing. I don't know what to call this. This was a creepy as hell story, so thank you again. And as always, if you enjoyed this story, please hit that thumbs up button. If you're new to this little tiny channel of mine, hit that subscribe button. If you want some true stuff, just go search as the Raven Dreams. You may have heard of me, you may not have. I don't know. Some people have. Some people haven't. So check me out there. Subscribe to that channel. If you like true stories, this is my creepypast side.

Yeah. I split him out a while back, and hopefully it's working. It's still working for me, in my opinion. So a huge thank you again to everyone who listens to this point. Yeah, leave a comment. If you like the story, let me know your thoughts. Let E-Star know your thoughts as well. Constructive criticism and feedback is always welcome.

Authors, in my opinion, maybe I'm wrong. Always appreciate it whenever somebody has something nice to say. Or thoughts that are constructive. Constructive is the importance and keyword there. So anyways, a huge thank you to each and every single one of you. I hope you're having a beautiful day, and I hope I see you on the next video. But until then, my friends, sleep well.