As The Raven Dreams Podcast - RTA By Ray Beaman| #CreepyPasta Narration

Episode Date: February 28, 2021

It's always the same- Sirens, lights, screeching, crying... I didn't mean for it to be like this.  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  ✯✬✯✬✯✬ 【TIMESTAMPS 🕠】 0:00 ➤ Hit That 👍 Button To Support The Channel! 0:07 ➤ RTA by Ray Beaman  24:03 ➤ Leave A Comment, Let Me Know What You Thought! ➤  ➤The first bird domesticated by humans was the goose. Song is "Silent Turmoil" By the AMAZINGLY talented Myuu. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TzIqTL_Yksc ✯✬✯✬✯✬ 【Disclaimer】 ➤All stories within are used w/ either explicit permission from the author- or under some level of CC license (where noted) #TrueStories #Reddit #AsTheRavenDreams Be sure to *subscribe* if you like any of the following; Glitch In The Matrix Stories - Deep Web Horror Stories - Cryptid Encounter Stories - Creepy Encounter Stories - Let's Not Meet Stories - Stalker Stories - Reddit Ghost Stories - Scary Horror Stories - Creepypasta - Missing 411 Stories - Backwoods Horror Stories - Dark web Horror Stories - True Scary Stories --- 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

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And profited. Via Rae. The voice that we love that we am. Today's story is R.T.A. By Ray Beaman. Sirens. For as long as I can remember, It has always been the same.

It starts with the darkness. The thick veil of nothingness, which seems to cloud the mind and hinder the senses. And then the lights, flashing in the distance, just beyond the precipice, hard to see and even harder to understand. There is crying, there is always crying.

And finally, just when the dread has taken a hold, Just when the frightful fear has seized my being and ensnared my mind, there is a screech. Its pitch is high and its pitch is deafening. It vibrates through my body and it rattles my soul. The noise is sharp. The noise is final and it is in this moment without fault and without reason that I awake in my bed. Sweat, cold, and terror visible. I

I cannot sleep Looking back now I cannot remember when it had begun At some point the nights had somehow become distorted Frayed and weathered Transformed from a peaceful embrace Into a nightmare which seemed to persist Haunting me with its elusive message

I cannot remember I do how a remember the end. It started with a box, and it ended with a box. The box was small. It had been wrapped carefully, the paper neat and handled with obvious care. To look at it, it would seem that it had always been on my coffee table, just sitting there, waiting for its moment, waiting to be opened. There was a tag attached to it, but it was blank, a monument to the time. It was a monument to the time. which had tragically passed it by, it seemed to be at home,

and it seemed to sit right against the wood. But I knew that it was a lie. No matter how comfortable the box feigned to be, no matter how well placed or how just its position, I knew that it was a lie. I found it there one morning. It was not mine, and I had not left it there. I had lived alone for some time, so I was dumbfounded by its presence.

Perplexed. I retrieved my phone and dialed the only number which mattered. After a few short rings, she answered. Did you come over last night? A few seconds of silence followed before she spoke. What do you want? My eyes drifted back to the coffee table. Last night.

I repeated. Did you come over and use the spare key? There's a box here. I'm just wondering where it has come from. The spare key? She paused for a moment. Is that what we are calling it now? I ignored the obvious anger hidden underneath her tone.

Is this yours? I just need to know where it has come from. She sighed before answering. I'm worried about you. She said. I have not seen you for so long. I just want to make sure that you are okay. I moved towards the table and picked up the gift.

I'm fine, I replied. My words seeming to belong to another. I just need to figure this out. She laughed slightly. You do. Listen, if you ever need to talk, we can, okay? You do not have to be alone. Her words drifted as I struggled to think.

I quickly made my excuses and hung up the phone. I cannot think. For some reason, I could not bring myself to open it. Whenever the thought was there, so too was the sinking feeling of despair. As my fingers tightened around the paper, the despair only grew deeper, and a cold blackness seemed.

to grow from within me. I... I cannot explain it. I just knew that I could not bring myself to open it. The sensation was dark, much darker than anything I had ever experienced before. I decided to hide the gift away. It needed to be out of sight, and it needed to be out of mind. As I closed the cupboard, sealing the box and my own sadness within,

and I just knew that somehow I would not be able to escape it forever. It was still there, after all. As much as I pretended to be at home, the box would never be right. I tried to busy myself through the day, but it had been so long since I had been genuinely busy. No matter how hard, I tried to occupy my mind. The gift was always there. encroaching on the boundary of my consciousness, infecting my thoughts with its unspeaking presence.

Slowly but surely the hours passed, and the day gave way to the night. And then, once again, I found myself in bed. Sirens. The blue flashes of color dance within the distance of my sleeping mind. She is crying. She is always crying, and then the screech. It is sharp, and its tone is final. My ears seemed to ring as I shoot upright in bed,

my heart beating violently in my mind a haze of horror. This night, however, was not the same. Of course, the dream was exact. It's repetitive torment of verbatim and unforgiving. The reaction of my body was exact, my heart thick and painful, as it recovered from the nightmare, and my mind was exact, breaking ever so slightly with each and every passing slumber.

The shadow, however, that was different. The man stood, at the end of my bed, his body still, and his head unmoving. Even through the darkness, I could see that his features were obscured by the blood, which oozed thick down the entirety of his face. His chest rose slightly as he inhaled. This night was not the same. I tried to move.

I tried to scream, but nothing came. All I could seem to do was look. Just look at him as he looked at me. He inhaled again. This time the noise seemed rougher and more forced as the thick blood on his face meshed, nicely with his intake of air. I could no longer feel, and I could no longer think.

My whole existence had been reduced to nothing but emptiness, a cold and hollow feeling that gripped my being and consumed my world. I was sure that my heart was beating even though I could no longer feel it. Suddenly, the figure began to weep. The sound was somehow worse than that of his breathing. the sorrow sputtered forth from within him. Tears and blood torment and decay. All of it wrapped together inside of the nightmarish apparition which stood before me.

He slowly raised his hand and attempted to wipe away the tears, only to soak his hand with the thick red hue, which leaked relentlessly from his nose. Streaks of blood smeared across his face, further complimenting the hurt, horrific sight which stood before me. Through the dirty noise, through the darkness of the night, and through the fear which now resided within me, he began to plead.

What did you do? His question melted away at my life. What did you do? The world was ending. What? Suddenly. I could scream. It was almost as if I remembered that I could, and once that I did, I screamed.

I pushed every little bit of fear from within, the terror bursting outward in a single, never-ending pitch, which sounded just as guttural as it did strained. My throat tore, and my chest burned, but I continued. The man at the end of my bed continued to cry as I became dizzy, and then, after an eternity of error, I passed out. In the morning, the box was there. Somehow, it had moved itself during the night.

It had managed to pull itself from the cupboard, pull itself back into my living room, and it had yet again managed to infect my world. It waited patiently for me on my coffee table. I knew that it would never be. stop waiting. What did you do? I found myself crying down the phone as she waited for me to answer her question.

What did you do? After a moment, I managed to compose myself. I put it back in the cupboard. I need to think. I need to figure this out. She sighed. You don't have to figure this out alone. You know that, right?

After everything, we only have each other in this world. I knew that she was right, even though admitting it to myself was just too much to bear. I... I can't. I sobbed. 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, it takes so much from you. In the end, it will take everything. But you already know that. She is right, as always. I'm sorry, I said, moving the phone away from my face.

I can't. And then, she was gone. And my sadness yet again concealed and hidden by the press of a button. I can fix this. Again, the day was consumed with thoughts of the box. How odd that I came to realize that I had bore little thoughts to the different nightmare of the night prior, all I could seem to do was focus on the box. As I sat in my living room, trying to busy myself,

I felt that I could almost hear it call to me from the cupboard I had hidden it in. It pleaded, just as the man. at the end of my bed had. It called for me. It demanded me. Once more, the day bled away quicker than anticipated, and the night slowly approached. As I lay in my bed, my eyes closing as the sweet embrace slowly welcomed me. I felt a tingling sensation of dread sparking slightly in my mind.

Somehow, I just knew that some of the same. Something would be waiting for me tonight. The man at the end of my bed was a warning. I knew it to be true. I just wished that I knew exactly what he was warning me of. It didn't matter, though. As my eyes weighed heavily and the sleep enveloped me, all that I could think about was the box.

Sirens. The flashes are closer now, no longer in the distance, but nearer. and frantic. She is crying. She never stops crying. By now, even though I was dreaming, I knew to brace for the inevitable screech. It came harsher than before, stronger than before.

It pierced my brain and rattled my ears. Its high intensity shaking me instantly from the nightmare that I had been made to endure. Again, I shot up in bed, and again he was there. waiting for me. This time, he was pointing at me, as little specks of blood dripped silently from his fingers. He inhaled several times, trying to clear the wave for air.

As he did, the blood bubbled against his nostrils. His hand shook as he held it up, pointing towards my terrified form, commanding my attention. What did you? Do? He asked, once more, is blubbering unnatural and dirty

as the blood flowed unrestricted down his face. What did you do? This time, I knew that he deserved an answer. My lips moved and without thought. The words flowed from within. I did not mean to. I found myself answering. I did not mean to.

I did not mean to? The words had come from some dark place within me. Somehow, the man had pulled them free, free from the spot that I had concealed them so long ago. He had exposed them and he had exposed me. Even though they had come from me, I still struggled to comprehend what they actually meant. The answer was inside me.

The answer was me. After a few moments, the man dropped his arm, and his crying subsided. Gradually a smile grew across his blood-soaked lips. I know that you did not. He whispered, as the fluid leaked into his open mouth. Know that, too? He was right. Whatever he meant, he was right.

I knew. Somewhere within me, he was right. My voice trembled as I spoke. I do not want to live like this anymore. I just want to sleep. I do not want these dreams. These nightmares? Please, help me, just let me sleep.

He smiled at me. You are the answer. He growled, his voice seeming to echo from wall to wall. You can set yourself free. He is right. From somewhere, the box came to mind. Yes. He nodded, almost as if reading my thoughts.

You know what needs to be done. I know what needs to be done. My body moved without thought. I rose from my bed, nodded to myself, and turned to leave. The man remained stationary, only smiling as I turned and left the room. This night was meant. I knew that now. I could not live like this forever.

For far too long, I had hidden from my choices, hidden from my life I had created, the life that I had destroyed. I had tormented myself. I had punished myself, but that was soon to be corrected. After all, this night was meant. I was there. In front of me the cupboard and within it, the box.

I paused for a second as my emotions buzzed. The despair was no longer. There, the darkness and the blackness which had threatened to consume me had dissipated. In its place, I found a new determination, a drive, one which would propel me towards the truth that I had hidden from for far too long. My hand moved, and the cupboard door opened. The box was no longer there. Confused, I turned and looked towards my living room.

On the coffee table, just as I had expected, I saw it. To look at it, it would seem that it had always been on my coffee table, just sitting there, waiting for its moment, waiting to be opened. That moment had come. It had to be opened. I moved towards the box. With each step, a tear fell from my eye. This is it.

You have to do it. I took another step. You have to face this. This is how you end this. I took another step. This is the moment life cannot be ignored. I took a final step, and my hands shook slightly as I reached down and retrieved the gift. The box was small.

It had been wrapped carefully. The paper neat and handled with obvious care. In that moment, I knew that no matter how comfortable I had feigned to be, no matter how well adjusted or how well I had pretended to cope with the truth, I knew that it was just a lie. Slowly, the relief began to grow throughout me, and as my fingers tightened around the paper, the relief only grew deeper as a warm sensation pulsed pleasantly. It is time. My fingers tightened as I tore at the paper.

The colorful material fell gracefully from my hands. as my mind drifted back, back to the truth which needed to be remembered. We were arguing, again, we were at each other, bickering over something which seemed to matter so much in the moment. Our car sped down the road, the only illumination coming from the headlights, as they cut perfectly into the night. You don't have to work so hard, she begged, We're both here. We're always here. Take some time. You're tired. Take some time for us.

Why can she not see that I try so hard for us? The anger was there, and I lashed out. I'm doing this for us. I yelled, my voice cracking under the strain. Why can you not see that? She was upset. No matter what I did, I always seemed to upset her. Quiet, she pleaded. You'll wake him up. I turned wearily and looked in to the back seat of our car. My son was still asleep.

Thankfully, I had not woken him with my impulsive outburst. For a second, my attention lingered. I was tired, and I was worn out. She was right. I really did need a break. I really did need to put more time into them, into my family. In that moment, I knew that I had to slow down. Tragically, that moment was fleeting, and the moment was all that it took.

The other car was already on us. It hit us in slow motion, the world turning and flipping as our vehicle rolled several times. My life was changed in a moment. Life is full of moments. They come and they go. Some stay, but most flee. No matter how hard you try to grasp them, to keep hold of the ones that matter. They just fall through your hands like colorful paper.

The screech was there, and then I blacked out. When I opened my eyes, she was crying. The sirens were there, closing in, coming to help, but I knew that it was too late. The blood falls unaided from my nose as a single thought repeats. What did I do? Tears fall from my eyes as I finish unwrapping the gift. I had meant to write on the tag, but I had just forgot.

There was always so much work to be done, and so many deadlines to be met. I dropped the lid to the floor as I pull the photo frame from the box. There we are, all three of us. Me, my wife, and my son. I began to sob uncontrollably at the truth. Life is full of moments. They come and they go. I just wish that I had been there in those moments instead of existing within them.

Through my best intentions, I had missed the important ones. And through my best intentions, I had robbed us of all the moments that could have been. That was the truth. No matter how hard I had tried to hide from it, my life and my wife's life would never be the same. Thankfully, in that moment, I knew that I was ready to deal with my indescribable loss. Life would never be the same, but I knew that this nightmare was over. It started with a box, and it ended with a box. So, my friends, this was once again.

RTA by Ray Beeman, aka Right's Struggle, and this man never, ever, fails to impress with his amazing authorship, This story, my man, was awesome. Seriously. I loved it. And you've blown me away every single time I read one of your stories, from Kara to a circle, just all of them. Dude, you are awesome.

So keep it up, please. And keep sending them my way if you want to. Anyway, if you all enjoyed this and would like more content like this, please do go check out Ray's platforms all in the description below. Then come back here and hit that subscribe. and then the bell icon next to it. You can also follow me in my social media platforms or support the channel through Patreon

or channel memberships, all patrons and members get early access to my content. All right. Yeah, not much more to say. I hope you have a beautiful day, and I hope I'll see you on the next video. But until then, sleep well.