As The Raven Dreams Podcast - Scary Stories For Dark Dreams - Vol 52 | ATRD Podcast

Episode Date: February 15, 2026

Today we have 15 More true scary stories with a late night ambience. Scary Stories For Dark Dreams is a collection of older stories, remastered and put together in a long form episode. This Collection includes the following stories; Paranormal stories from Aug 2023, Past life stories from Oct 2022, & Black eyed Kids stories from Nov 2022 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. If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to like or rate the podcast, and leave me a comment with your thoughts if the platform your own supports it! I upload episodes every 3 days, so there are 2 days between new uploads. The podcast consists of new scary story collections, Glitch in the matrix collections, and also what I call the "Dark Dreams" collections (which are older stories, remastered and layered with rain sounds). If you have a story to submit, would like to find where to listen to the podcast, or want to find me on social media platforms, all of that info can be found at https://www.astheravendreams.com You can also send stories into my subreddit (r/theravensdream) or email them to me at [e-mail] Want to check out some ATRD Podcast Merch? ➤ https://teechip.com/stores/astheravendreams Or for signed merch ➤ https://ko-fi.com/AsTheRavenDreams I wrote a novel, "The Insomniac's Experiment" by Raven Adams! Check it out on amazon (Or you can email me for a signed copy!) Join Patreon to get early access and support the Podcast! ➤ https://www.patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams Check out my gaming channel with my pal Ghost_Ink ➤ @superNefariousBros On YouTube TIMESTAMPS One Ad After the First Story, No ads after that Story 1: 0:27 Story 2: 9:22 Story 3: 20:03 Story 4: 24:38 Story 5: 36:03 Story 6: 38:38 Story 7: 46:32 Story 8: 48:39 Story 9: 56:57 Story 10: 58:14 Story 11: 1:00:25 Story 12: 1:07:34 Story 13: 1:10:55 Story 14: 1:21:40 Story 15: 1:24:06 ----- Disclaimer ➤ Episodes include a content warning for language and sensitive/disturbing content. Listener discretion is always advised. ALL Audio and visuals on this podcast are copyright of AS THE RAVEN DREAMS / RAVEN ADAMS and may not be duplicated, in any format. Bless This Mess. None of my audio is AI Generated, I am a real person reading real stories into a real microphone. Note: The podcast nor the host endorses any advertisements played during the podcast, ads are not chosen by ATRD or Raven Adams, they are chosen automatically by the advertisement systems by the platforms that host the podcast. I do not endorse, support, or promote any opinions or statements made in any adverts played during the show. #ScaryStories #UnexplainedMysteries #GlitchInTheMatrix ➤ And Remember; You are loved, you are important, and you are valid. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Saving those children is how we all go home. From Binge All Episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. Hey there, friends. Today's episode is a Dark Dreams episode. For those that are unaware, Dark Dreams episodes are older episodes, remastered into larger collections, with some nice and calming rain sounds in the background to help you just kind of relax.

So sit back, close your eyes if you can, and just take in the scariness that is our existence. And hopefully, you sleep well. This happened when I went to a family reunion some time ago. Back then, I didn't know about black-eyed kids or that they even existed, but I've had plenty of paranormal experiences. So when I was talking to some people in a comment section elsewhere about this one, and they thought that it was a black-eyed kid, so I thought I should share it. I was about 14 at the time. My little sister, Allie, was seven.

There were other kids there, all our cousins and my brother, Sean, but this was mainly about Ali and I. The reunion was taking place at a local park and was set up at a shelter, shelter. There were lots of people around, lots of food and drinks, and thankfully, lots for us kids to do to stay entertained. There were two playgrounds at this park. One was very old. Like, I wouldn't let my kids play on it without a dozen tetanish shots old. And since it was all made of metal, anything you had to grab or sit on was always on fire in the summer. The other playground was much newer and a lot more fun to play on. It was mostly plastic, or at least was metal covered with plastic, so the kids didn't fry on it.

It was bigger and also had a bigger swing set, and other nearby things to play on. Of course, the shelter was closer to the old one, so we were a little further away from the adults. Probably wasn't the best idea not having any. adults over there, but there were a few older cousins and other parents with their kids nearby. We spent a lot of time on the playground that day. We even managed to sneak a jug of tea from the party and cups away in a wagon and have our own little party under the parts of the playground. The underpart was built like a playhouse and had a window and doors that opened, and even a little

mailbox. I loved it. We'd probably been out there for four. five or six hours at this point. The sun was beginning to set as the sky was taking on the pretty pink and orange colors, but it definitely wasn't dark yet. Some people had left, but of course,

our parents were still there, so we continued to play. At one point, we decided to play a mix of hide-and-seek and tag, where you hide, and then if you're found, you can try to run from the it person until you were finally caught. One of our cousins was it at this point, and we all went and hid. He'd found a few of us, but then ended up saying that he had to leave so we could all come out.

I told him I'm still not convinced he actually had to leave, and he was just tired of seeking, as he was known to do that, but I digress. So we all started coming out, and that's when I noticed I didn't see Allie. I asked Sean if he saw her and he said no, so I started looking around for her when I saw her standing near the fence line, which separated the park from the lake and a property on the other side. I don't think there was a house over there, but the lake was over there as well as just a bunch of land. Trees, bushes, just that. So when I started to approach my sister and saw that she was talking to another little girl, that was a little girl, that was a little, on the other side of the fence.

I was curious as to why she was there and not with an adult. The girl, however, did not look normal. First, she had on a really outdated dress. I now recognize this as Victorian-era style. It was long and puffy, like it had a petticoat underneath it. There were layers and ruffles all over with puffy sleeves. She also had on a small bonnet-type hat, and tight black curly hair framing her face.

At first glance, it was odd, but it was a pretty cute outfit. However, all of this was shadowed when I saw her face. I thought the cap on her bonnet was covering it, but in actuality, she had no eyes. It terrified me. I don't know what she was saying, but I cut Ali off as I grabbed her arm, pulling her back away from the fence.

Now, unless the girl climbed over the fence, I knew that we would be safe, as that fence went all the way up to the parking lot. We would have made it to our parents before she reached the lot, though. But as I pulled her back, I remember saying something like, who are you talking to? And what's wrong with her eyes? Is she okay? Allie said that she noticed her wave when she went to hide and was also curious as to why she was over there, so she always. approached her. She claims that she didn't even notice her eyes until I pointed them out, but even afterwards, she didn't seem phased by it, which was weird. It was freaking me out.

Why was it not scaring a seven-year-old? The little girl only said that she needed help, and asked us to go to the water with her. We both tried questioning more as to what she needed help with, but she refused to answer, always repeating pretty much the same thing. And it was creepier because it was always in the same tone, but with never any inflections. So I again asked her what was wrong with her eyes, and after a pause, she said, I can see everything. Please, I'll show you by the water. Nope. I said that we would get an adult to help her, grabbed Ali, again and pulled her away from the fence.

Now, my birthday had just recently passed, and my parents got me a camera with replaceable films, so I took it everywhere. I even had a little case that I carried it in. That went over my shoulder, and I had been taking a lot of pictures that day. I did not hesitate to snap a photo of this girl as we walked towards the playground. Allie and I walked straight up to my mom and told her what we saw, and she seemed, disinterested in our story at first. Then I mentioned something being wrong with her eyes and that apparently caught her attention.

We then walked her back to the fence, however the girl was gone. Ali and I insisted that it was real, but my mom just shrugged it off as either someone playing a prank, or maybe the girl found her guardians and they helped her. We never forgot about it, though. Ali didn't seem as disturbed by it, but man, I had a hard time. sleeping that night. I kept my lamp on all night that night, and even tried reading something to get my mind off of it before finally falling asleep. It was probably about two months later when my mom finally took me to get my film developed from my camera. As I was going through the

pictures, I remember specifically taking the picture of the girl, and I wanted to show my mom the proof that I was right. I was at that age that I was doing that's on a quite-fetched. I was frequent and probably pretty annoying basis, I'm sure. However, much to my dismay and relief, the picture was of a grassy field. The fence and glistening lake was among those photos, but there was no girl standing at the fence. There was no way that she would have been able to move out of the view for that photo, and then go right back to where she was in the amount of time it took me to hold the camera up and snapped the picture.

I was in disbelief and still am to this day. I have no explanation for it. I even showed the picture to Ali who remembered the events and she was just as surprised at the picture as I was. So, as mentioned, telling some people online about it, they feel that there were several indicators of a black-eyed kid. If it was, that was the only time I've ever witnessed one and it scared the hell out of me.

Of all the paranormal encounters I've had, that was probably one of the worst. What would have happened if we would have went with her to the lake? It honestly freaks me out just thinking about it. It's never too early to plan your summer story in Europe with WestJet, from rolling countryside to cobblestone streets. Begin your next chapter. Book your seat at westjet.com or call your travel agent.

WestJet, where your story takes off. This encounter is the first of several unexplained incidents, which occurred during my time as a security officer at a large cosmetics facility between 2001 and 2008. I worked exclusively for the cosmetics company, rather than as a contractor, and therefore was very familiar with the site. And it's strange, often unsclusive,

settling atmosphere. That said, I was not one who was phased by such things and had no issue being there. I was working a night shift on this particular evening and began a perimeter patrol of the site. At the time, only one department was working and they were scheduled to finish at midnight. The site was huge, having seven separate buildings, as well as an additional office complex and warehouse facility, and as such we usually operated a three-man security team. On this occasion, however, it was just me on shift, which I didn't mind at all, as I do prefer the quiet, truth be told.

As all the other buildings were secured and alarmed, I decided to begin an outside sweep of the remaining block of units, which were still operational. This was approximately 11.45 p.m. All exterior windows and fire doors were closed, and the outside canopy gates were padlocked, leaving just the main entry and exit door open. My watch beeped to signal that it was midnight, and, on cue, staff began exiting the building. I said goodnight to the procession of workers and had a brief chat with the shift supervisor,

who confirmed that all staff had finished for the evening, and that he had secured his office. With that, I entered the building and locked the door behind me, standard security procedure. The next five or ten minutes were uneventful. As I walked through the units, turning off lights and double-checking, the doors and windows were secured. I then needed to register that the fire alarm panel was code green and had no issues. The panel was housed in the furthest corner of Unit 32, so I headed down there, reaching the panel and confirmed that all was fine. I switched the area light off and turned to head back up to the main door

when there was a sudden explosion of noise. I was initially startled, and then quickly composed myself enough to make sense of what I was hearing. It was a song, coming from what I assumed was one of the wall-mounted radios in the next unit. The volume was so loud that you could hear the speaker, crackling, but you could clearly understand what song it was. Don't worry, be happy, by Bobby McFerran.

I knew the song, but not the singer. Now, I knew the building was empty. After all, I had watched staff leave and locked the door behind me, as well as having walked through all the units checking doors and turning off lights. But even still, a reason that the radio had perhaps been set on a time. to turn on after midnight as a jump scare prank to the security guys. I was about ten meters away from where the radio was, when the sound abruptly stopped, from ear-piercingly loud to nothing.

Complete silence. I instinctively grabbed my torch from my belts, now unsure if someone was in there with me after all. I turned the corner from Unit 32 into Unit 30, and my heart. froze. The radio was there, mounted to the wall. The power cable plugged into the wall with the plug switch off. I just stood there staring at it. My mind racing, along with my heart. Who had turned it off? Who had turned it on? I spun around shining my torch in all directions, but there was nobody there. I glanced at my watch. It was 12.20 a.m. I was about to approach the intruder alarm panel when I heard a loud bang coming from the supervisor's office, the locked supervisor's office, then another bang, and then another, and then another,

each getting louder and louder. The best way I can describe it is if you imagine someone trying to kick or shoulder down a locked door repeatedly. I reached from my mobile phone instinctively thinking there was an intruder in the building. Then the banging suddenly stopped. My heart was thumping. I knew that the correct protocol was to call this in and have the police attend sight. I pressed the phone to open up the call function and the screen said, No service.

Something inside me said, maybe this isn't an intruder after all. I noticed I was breathing heavily and, that I could see my breath. It was freezing. Yet, outside, it had been quite a mild evening up until then. I walked to the intruder alarm panel, typed in the security code, and asked the system to run a check. No faults found.

I activated the alarm, a loud beep, beep, beep sound indicating a 30-second countdown time to exit the building before the alarm is live. I knew that if someone was in the building, any movement would be picked up by the sensors and the alarm would trigger, sending a signal to the monitoring company who would contact keyholders in the event that security do not answer. I stepped outside, locked the door, and waited. The final alarm beep sounded. It was set. Then nothing.

Where was the activation? Any movement would set it off. A minute passed, then two, still nothing. Again, that inner voice was telling me that it's not an intruder. I looked at my phone, full service. Do I ring the police? And say what? A radio turned on and off by itself.

The invisible man was trying to break down the door, that the alarm was set but had not been triggered. I did another perimeter check. of the building. All doors and windows were secured. I headed back to the security office. The rest of the shift was uneventful. No alarm activations. I did a handover with the day manager, and I noticed he gave a funny look when I recalled the incident from that night. I was back on shift the following evening, but this time we were double-manned. I was paired up with a veteran called John. I told him what had happened,

and he seemed skeptical, asking why the alarm had not activated if something was in there with me. He then said that he didn't believe in ghosts and all that nonsense. Great, I said, then you won't mind locking up that block of units tonight. At this point, I still hadn't come up with a reasonable conclusion as to what had happened. I knew what I heard was real. I had felt the sudden coldness. I saw my breath. I still had a nagging feeling within that something rather than someone was behind those strange events.

The shift proceeded with John and I taking turns patrolling and locking the various buildings. It was nearing midnight and John decided that we should both lock up units 26 through 32. I couldn't tell if he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, there was something to my story. We headed down there. Same as the night before. We did our checks, said goodbye to the staff, turned off the lights, and secured all the doors and windows. There was no repeat of the previous night. No radio, no song, no banging and no sudden drop in temperature.

So, we set the alarm. As we're walking away from the building, the alarm beeping away. John nudges me and says, so much for your ghosts, huh? Just as the alarm countdown ends. I was about to respond when the intruder's siren started blasting out. Lights flashing,

illuminating our faces enough for me to see the color drain from John's. John composed himself seeing my reaction to his. Let's go check it out, eh? We re-entered the building, the alarm deafening us as we approached. the panel. John entered his code. The siren stopped. We checked the panel log which detailed which sensor had been activated. Unit 32 Wicket door. We turned to the corner and froze. John raising his torch to see the solid steel door, unbolted and swinging to and fro.

We both stood there in silence. That door had been bolted by myself, and John giving it a kick for good measure to make sure the magnetic contacts touched. That's impossible. A door can't be opened from the outside when the bolt is locked. You locked it. I saw you. John and I re-secured the building, with no further alarms that night. We never did find a plausible reason for the radio,

the banging, the cold spots, the door opening by itself. John left his position two months later. I'm convinced it was because of the radio. of what happened. As for me, I knew that something unexplained and perhaps even paranormal was at play. The next few months actually confirmed that suspicion, but that's another story. For another day. When I was a kid, we had a lovely backyard with the full garden that we actually didn't build. It was all built by the previous homeowner, who had supposedly passed away in the the house. My parents kept it all intact. They never really did anything extra with it. They just left

what the previous owner had planted and just let it do what it naturally did. It was actually quite pretty, and even being left to its own devices, it would end up being the loveliest little flower bed. To add to this, the previous owner had installed a clothes line around the flower bed, and my mom was old-fashioned, so she believed that sun-dried clothing smelled fresher and felt crisper. One day she asked me to go hang the laundry outside. Normally, this was a chore, but I didn't really mind it. It was almost meditative, so I kind of enjoyed it. But on this day, for some reason, when I stepped outside with the basket of damp clothing, I stopped.

I don't mean that I just stopped walking. I mean that I literally froze unable to move. I got hit with this intense fear, this strange and paralyzing feeling of unease. It was overwhelming, so overwhelming that I almost started to feel like I was going to cry. I tried to keep going, I tried to take a step forward, but I literally couldn't. I was trying to think logically, looking around for a person in the yard that was maybe watching me, thinking about whether or not I'd watched a scary movie or read something that had me in an anxiety attack. Look, I was like 12, so I was just trying to piece together why I was feeling like I was freaking out in the backyard that I had spent countless hours in.

At some point my mother must have realized that I was acting strangely and just standing there in the yard and staring at nothing in particular when she had asked me to take care of the laundry. I heard the back door open, and I heard her stepping toward me, and then heard her say, Hey, Melody, what's wrong? Why are you... Then she just stopped when she got next to me.

I glanced over at her, and I walked her. watched the color drained from her face and her eyes got wide. She felt it too. I remember just looking at the garden, looking for whatever it was that was causing this and asking, What's going on, Mom? To which she said, I don't know.

Let's go back inside. She grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the house. We got back inside, and she just stood there staring at that flower bed. looking terrified. I asked her if there was something out there, and she just shook her head saying that she didn't know. I asked her if she felt what I felt, and she told me that she felt something. But she didn't know what it was. She ended up just throwing the clothes in the dryer, and we didn't talk about it after that.

She didn't even mention it to my dad. So, what the hell was that? We never spoke about it at all after that day, but I've obviously never forgotten it. My mom didn't hang the clothing on the line for a couple of months after this, and I think that whatever that feeling was, was the reason. I know that there was nothing physical there. It wasn't like a creep in our yard or some kind of animal or something. It was just our normal backyard, complete with the pretty flowers in the back, so...

Why were we so freaked out? In the end, I'm talking this up to something paranormal, because it was not normal. I don't know if it was some spirit in the garden or some weird messed up shared hallucination, but it was horrifying, and definitely something beyond our understanding. This was actually something that happened to me,

and I still struggle to understand, it. As a younger child, maybe seven or eight, I think, I lived in a small house with an older brother that I'll call Jeff. He was probably four or five years older than me, and we lived with my dad and my pregnant mother. I didn't get along with my brother, or rather he didn't get along with me. It was just the two of us, so of course I wanted to play and hang out with him, but it was like he hated me. I don't know why or if I did something, but if so, I don't remember ever doing anything.

It started as Jeff just not wanting to have anything to do with me. I would ask if he wanted to play cars or something, and he would say no. When one of us complained about being bored, my parents would tell us to go play together, and he would get mad at me for it. He would tell me things like he hated me and he didn't want to play with me, so I would end up playing something alone while he sat on his bed and stared at the ceiling or watched TV. We had an old, small TV in our room that got probably four channels.

Sometimes while we were alone, like in our room or out back playing, he would hit me or push me down. He would call me names, say I was useless, and all for no apparent reason. We could just be taking turns going across the monkey bars in our play set, and he would snap. And if I told my parents, he would then punish me when we went to bed, so I had a lot of accidental falls and trips, and my parents were none the wiser. So that's where this incident takes place. Jeff was becoming more and more aggressive towards me. Anytime that he could, he would. He would even try to hurt me with anything that he could find,

like stabbing my arm with a pencil or making me step on thumbtacks. One night, after dinner, I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth, and Jeff knocked on the door and kept demanding that I get out. So I finished quickly, and as I left the bathroom, I said something to him about being patient, and as I walked past him, he pushed me, causing me to fall down the stairs. However, my mom was just walking by and actually saw him do this, so he did get into a lot of trouble with it. I was more scared that he got in trouble than happy, because I could feel the anger in him, and I knew that I wasn't going to be able to sleep that night.

So, we went to bed as normal. We had bunk beds, and he was on the top. I remember that I tried to stay awake as long as possible, worried that he would hurt me, but the sleep won, and I ended up drifting off. But then I woke up when I felt pressure on my chest. It was Jeff sitting on top of me, and he looked furious. That's when I noticed that I couldn't breathe. I felt like I couldn't inhale at all and was trying to tell Jeff to get off. He just kept saying these horrible things to me,

like he wished he was still an only kid, that I was the worst brother, that my parents didn't love me and that I should just die. I remember being terrified for my life. I could feel something around my throat, and it was starting to hurt. I was kicking and swinging my arms, doing everything I could to get him off of me, but to no avail.

The last thing I remember was the room going black, and then I could hear my mom screaming and crying my name. I could hear my dad yelling, What did you do? And then everything went muffled again, and I believe I went unconscious. That was the last memory that I had of Jeff. I've tried very hard to remember anything after that, but I can't. and I start feeling sick when I do try, because now things are completely different.

I now live with my mom and dad who look completely different. My first mom had short, curly black hair, and she was also really short compared to the massive man that my dad was. He was also bald and had a really deep voice. My new mom is almost taller than my mom. dad and she has medium-length brown straight hair. My new dad was thin and definitely shorter than my old dad. He also had longer blonde hair that he normally kept braided, and he was always so soft-spoken. The other weird thing is, I'm now an only child. I remember waking up one day and following a normal routine of making my own breakfast and watching cartoons, until my parents got up and

took me to school. But then, I started getting these visions or recollections of Jeff, and it seemed so real. I know that it was. I remember the pain that I endured. I remember the scent of my mother's perfume. I remember the feeling of the scar on my father's hand. When I started remembering this, I became scared that maybe I did survive and was given to another family. I was afraid to bring it up because I didn't want to know what happened. I did miss my old parents, but I thought maybe they got in trouble too, so I always kept this to myself. I have gotten the two memories mixed up, though, because I'll mention something that happened

in my first life, and my new parents will look confused. and mention how that never happened, or that they don't remember anything like that. So now, I find it difficult to bring up past memories unless the memory actually involves my new parents, so I at least know that it was this life. There was one time, though, that I had to ask. It was the weekend, and my parents took me to a local amusement park to celebrate. I completed the school year with all passing grades, which wasn't hard for me, as I always excelled at school, but it was nice to have it recognized. And I was accepted into an after-school club that focused on a different country each year.

This year would be France. The kids would also have a chance to go to the country with one parent or guardian the following year. My parents were both very proud of me, and it was. was the most fun I've ever remembered having. I played games with them, all of us being competitive, we rode on a few rides together, and we had a wonderful dinner. I felt incredibly loved that it was overwhelming, and I had slipped out something about thanking them for changing my life. They were confused and asked what I meant by that, and I tried to play it off as just miswording something, but they didn't buy it and they asked me to explain.

I then asked them if I had another brother, and they denied it, looking genuinely confused. I then mentioned what I remembered about Jeff, about feeling like he was hurting me, without being specific, like I needed to protect them. They looked concerned, and I just remember my mom gave me a huge hug. and told me that it must have been a very vivid dream that I'd had. Maybe when I was really sick, but she assured me that nothing like that had ever happened. They assured me that I had always been an only child, and that they knew no one by the name of Jeff. I wanted to make myself believe that.

That everything I remembered, years of that life, it was all just an incredibly vivid dream. but after hearing more about my illness, it really made me think that maybe I was reborn. I didn't and still don't remember anything in this life about being ill, and nothing before it. My parents showed me pictures of being in the hospital. Apparently I had caught strep throat, and it ended up turning in to pneumonia.

They learned from this that I had an autoimmune disease, and the pneumonia caused me to go into a coma. The doctors warned my parents that they should be prepared for the worst and that I was probably too young to fight it. Miraculously, I started showing improvements, and I did beat it. I have no memory of getting sick, ever being in a hospital, or even getting out of it, and anything before getting sick.

Since then, I've pretty much decided in my mind that I died that night. I think that my brother killed me, and I think that the boy that this body belonged to died, and for some reason that I still don't understand, I was given this body as a second chance. I don't like to dwell on it too much, because it starts making me depressed. I loved my brother, but no matter what I did,

he hated me. He hated me to the point that he wanted me dead. And the fact that I got a second chance while another boy probably lost his life, it makes me feel like I'm not grateful enough for what I have. I still haven't talked to my parents about all of this as I do fear the outcome. Would they believe me?

Would they make fun of me or deny that it was even possible? Or would they disown me? thinking that I'm not their real son. My parents are still very loving and supportive to this day, so I don't think that they would, but it is a fear that I have. I think that, for now, I'll just keep it to you and your audience and be thankful for what I do have. And also, thank you for allowing me to share this with somebody. When my daughter was aged one to four years old, we lived in what had once been,

army barracks, but was now just a row of nine houses. The spare bedroom was used as her playroom with all of her toys. One night, in the early hours, I was awakened by music, round and round the mulberry bush. I realized one of the toys had gone off, playing the nursery rhyme. I went into the playroom and saw the toy, lights flashing, music going. it was a plastic pull-along tortoise. It had buttons teaching colors and shapes, and then one for the nursery rhymes.

There was roughly 20 nursery rhymes that went in loops, so once a rhyme had played, you had to wait for it to go through all the other rhymes to hear that rhyme again. I picked it up and pushed the off button, silencing the music and stopping the lights. I put it back on the floor and went back to bed. About five minutes later, just as I was drifting back to sleep,

around and round the mulberry bush starts playing again. My heart skipped a beat as I had just turned it off. I lay there feeling too uneasy to go and turn it off again, but I didn't want it to wake my daughter, so I had to do it. I could see the lights flashing, lighting up the playroom, and replaying that same rhyme. I picked it up. My heart was pounding.

felt scared. The toy was still switched off, yet somehow was still playing. I pulled off the battery lid and removed the batteries. I went back to bed, but I was totally alert and listening. It wasn't long before, for the third time, round and round, the Marlberry Bush starts playing. Now I was terrified. It was impossible. I crept back to the playroom and just stood looking at it playing from the doorway.

I mustered all of my courage and quickly went in, grabbed the toy by the pull-along string, and ran downstairs with it. I quickly opened up the back door and just threw it outside. It stopped flashing and playing as it landed on the ground. The next day, I put that toy in the outside bin and thankfully never saw it again. I never thought that I'd be able to tell a story like this, and not be exaggerating or liable. altogether.

But I assure you all that word for word, what you are hearing is a genuine retelling of an incredibly eerie experience that has been ingrained in my mind. I have experienced a lot of horrifying things in my years, but all of these are moments that life deals people sometimes. This, however, I just cannot seem to wrap my head around, no matter how much time passes by. When I was somewhere around seven years old, I had recently been into collecting dolls. I loved the ones with the pretty hair and fluttering eyes that were big enough to hold in your arms. The very first one I got, I picked out myself. She was a preppy pink ballerina that I proudly named Ivy.

Within the first month or two, I brought her over with me to visit my grandparents for the week. All was well, and I couldn't have been happier with my new toy. That's when things began to get strange. I would be out in the living room playing with Ivy and leave her to sit in one of the chairs. We would go out to shop for groceries or something of the like, and I'd come back to find her in a vastly different location, sometimes sprawled out, or positioned as if she was mid-task in somewhere like the laundry room or kitchen.

My grandparents refrained from saying anything for a while, as we all sort of collectively assumed that it was just a coincidence, or even more likely, we had imagined the whole thing. It began to get more and more unsettling as we left several more times to come back to the same thing. It was getting more noticeable each time. Things like this started happening on an even quicker time scale as well, where, in a matter of minutes of leaving a room, Ivy would have her arms raised up by her head when I specifically remembered having them down. I wanted to be big and strong, but I was scared.

I didn't want to be dismissed or called silly, but I couldn't do it any longer. I went to my grandma, who turned out to be pretty chill about the whole thing. I asked her what I should do. She told me to keep pushing the doll's arms down, so I could know for a fact that something was happening. So I did.

They continued to move up time and time again. The general vibe in the household grew heavier in mere days. Things felt tense, stressful, as if we were always checking behind our backs. This was nothing but the beginning. More significant events started happening. My grandpa went for a nap in the bedroom at one point. I stayed in the living room with my grandma watching TV. I had stopped paying attention to Ivy at that point as she lay face down on the couch.

That was until my grandpa came back, restless, in about an hour, saying that he kept being jolted awake by something, and that his face stung a bit. We then found Ivy on the floor next to a fly swatter. It was like she had teleported, and I just can't explain it. it. I imagine that some of you must be thinking that this was some sort of practical joke played by my grandparents, which it wouldn't have been unheard of in the slightest. The thing is, that doll was left entirely alone and untouched in every scenario. I've considered every possible explanation as I've gotten older, but we've come up with nothing in all of these years.

We absolutely would have seen him leave the bedroom, walk in front of us, pick up the flice water, and go back to the bedroom to stage the whole thing. It was just us three in the doll in the house, and my grandma never left the room either. My grandpa seemed to have genuine distress in his voice, and as a heavily superstitious person, he was quite upset with the whole thing. He wanted Ivy gone. Occurances like this kept happening over the next day or two. The true boiling point was on the final day of my stay. I'd had enough, and I put her away in the spare bedroom. I vividly remember how I had her positioned,

arms down, on her back, tucked under neatly made covers. The light was turned on. I left the room and I shut the door behind me. A few seconds later, not even having walked away yet, I felt compelled to double check. It's like something was urging me to take a look, so I did. I shouldn't have. The room was dark. The covers had been pulled back, an ivy light on her side.

One arm outstretched towards the light switch. I didn't bother to interfere that time. I noped the hell out of there, and luckily was able to. to lock the door from the outside. That night, I dreamt that I was dancing with a life-sized ivy. She didn't speak, and she remained unblinking until her gaze shifted towards me, and she uttered the words, I'm always watching you.

I was immediately shaken. I began to cry, and now my angry grandfather threatened to throw that thing straight onto the freeway. I sobbed and begged. him not to. I loved my doll. I really did, and I only wanted to have fun together. Everything was so wrong. Eventually I went home and everything felt fine again. The house always brought out the worst in just about everything, whether it be people, appliances, or paranormal activity. Fast forward a bit, and they've been moved out for many years. I got over the experience fairly close. I got over the experience fairly quick, but I never forgot

what happened that week. I have since exercised the doll multiple times, and performed many a spiritual cleansing on myself and my environments. I had a lot of familial issues as a child that I won't get into

here, but everywhere I went was just absolutely writhed with negative energy. I haven't had any problems with Ivy since then. And, I now plan to give her and all the other dolls that I have acquired over the years to my younger sister when I get around to visiting.

We have quite a bit of an age gap, as she was born when I was a teenager and has a different father, but we've always had a close relationship. I'm glad that I have a bit of life experience behind me as I watch her grow as a little girl. I wish the best for her, and I truly hope that I'm making the right decision handing down my most prized yet troubled possessions as a child.

I was chilled to my core that week at Grandma and Grandpa's, and I don't think that I'll be able to look at any seemingly mundane object the same again. My husband and kids were across the street swimming while I was making dinner. I was sitting in the dining room charging my phone, and I heard a weird snapping sound, so I went to the kitchen to stay. what it was. The one cupboard that I have is being held shut with two command hooks and a piece of

wire. One of the hooks fell off. I tried to find the logical before I claim ghosts, so I chalked it up to the tension on the wire being too tight, and it popping off. When I went back to the dining room and sat down, I heard what sounded like the back door push open, and someone running across the floor. Now, the kitchen is the only room in my house with these vinyl floors from, like, the 50s. So they have a unique sound when someone walks on them, kind of like the sound of sticky shoes. I got right up and went to see if one of the kids was home and came in the back door. I knocked on the bathroom door that's adjacent to the kitchen, but the bathroom was empty. The way it's laid out, they would have had to have come past me to go to any other room of the house.

I looked out the window, and they were all still in the pool, and the back door was still shut. I would have heard it shutting. That wasn't my first encounter. About a month ago, I was scrubbing the kitchen floor, so I had the back door open, and I saw a little girl in a red dress run out the door. I thought it was my youngest, but she was sitting on the living room couch, and she had black stretch pants and a yellow shirt on. So, yeah, you can believe me or not, but that little girl back there is not real.

Yeah, I did just go there. My mother has always been such a giving person. My parents tried to have kids, and after years of no luck, They went to the doctor to learn that due to cysts, she would probably never conceive. So, instead, they adopted me at the age of two and fostered many children in between. This also led my mother to start her own daycare so she could be helpful to others in need, as well as be around as many children as she wanted. She was always so kind and supportive to everyone and all the kids that we want.

It was no wonder that everyone liked her. She ran the daycare out of our home for most of the time that I lived there too, which meant that I helped a lot. But I didn't mind. It was like having little brothers and sisters any time to play with. My dad even built another large room to the back of our house, as the main play area for the daycare. He even built a new door to the backyard with a covered porch that led to the yard. with all the outdoor toys and games. The daycare was doing great, and since I grew up around so many kids, I found no reason to stop helping out, and, in fact, I started officially working there with my mom.

That's where this story took place. At this point, I was 23, and had been working there full time for a few years now, while I went to school for children's psychology. I ran errands for my mom, like picking up groceries, and I helped with scheduling and making meals and snacks for the kids. We also planned special activities for the kids at least once a week. It was close to Mother's Day, so we had picked up some extra supplies for the kids to make gifts for their moms. We had materials to make cards, treat bags, and even paper flower bouquets. I loved walking around and helping them out, so we got them all in spots with like four or five kids at each table to split them up a bit. Now for the kids. We had about 16 kids there that day, because I remember one table empty, so we just put all the supplies on it.

We had quite a few regulars, but would have newcomers join every so often too, which is when I met Blake. Blake was about seven, I believe. He could fully talk and hold a normal conversation with you. He loved sharks, and he could tell you just about anything about any shark that you named. I will add, though, that he had a cochlear implant in his left ear, as it will be relevant later. But you would never expect that he had hearing difficulties, as this boy could hear me from across the loud room. Blake had been coming to our daycare for about a month or so, so I was still trying to get to know him at the time.

I sat at the table he was at, and I asked him and the other kids what they wanted to make, and they all wanted to start with a card. I laid out the markers, glue, stickers, and scissors, and I let them get started, and as I asked them about themselves and things their mom liked to help give ideas on what to make. Blake said that his mom loved,

tulips, but he didn't know how to draw them, so I showed him an easy way to do it. He said that he wanted to buy real tulips for her, because she was the best mom that he'd ever had. At the time, it sounded like a weird statement, but there could have been many reasons for having multiple mothers, right? So I didn't dwell on it. Then, one of the kids wanted to cut their card out in the shape of a heart, so I agreed and passed her the scissors. I noticed Blake staring at one of the other kids using the scissors, so I asked him if he wanted to cut out his card too, and he said yes. So, once the other one was done, I went to hand him the scissors,

and he reluctantly grabbed them and just stared at them. I started to ask what was wrong, when he dropped them on the table in front of me and asked me to do it. I tried reassuring him that he could do it because they were safety scissors and he was given permission to use them, because an adult was around. But I thanked him for being considerate or safe. He seemed a bit uncomfortable with the scissors near him,

kind of like a kid would act when they saw an animal or something they were afraid of. So I asked him if there was something wrong, and he explained further. He said he didn't like scissors because that was how he lost his ear. I was confused at first. because, of course, he had both ears, but I knew about his implant, so really he just lost his hearing or never had it. So I tried explaining to him that he had both of his ears, and he was referring to not being able to hear out of it. He confirmed this by nodding, and continued to tell me something a bit more disturbing. I may not remember the exact phrasing, but this is what he told me.

In my old life, I heard a lot of it. girls. I made them cry and I made them bleed, but one girl got away because I didn't tie the string right. I'm not good at tying my shoes either. I tried to catch her, and she grabbed some scissors and pushed them into my ear. It hurt really bad, and it made me bleed, and I couldn't hear anymore. Then she put the scissors in my heart, and I died. So I just sat there in shock of what I had just heard. And he must have seen the terror on my face because he followed that up with something like,

but it's okay. I don't want to hurt anyone now. I talked to God and he gave me another chance. But I lost my ear for good because of how bad I was. I'm a lot nicer now. And then he continued to stare at me and waited for me to cut out his card. After I looked at the other kids

and noticed that they had paid no attention to his story and were still focused on their own projects. I just shook it off and cut it out. I watched him from there, as he carefully picked the colors for his card and talked about his mom. He was his normal self. He never brought that up again or anything related to it. I had never heard him talk about anything so gruesome,

so it really caught me off guard. Later on that day, I had a moment and I talked to my mom about it. she thought it was pretty alarming too, so she agreed to ask Blake's parents about it, thinking maybe he watched or saw something that he shouldn't have. They said they had never heard anything like that, and they also don't allow him to watch anything violent, so they had no clue where he could have gotten it from.

They were surprised by what he said because they had never said anything to him, but did admit that when speaking about his impact, plant before, he would claim that they were wrong as to why he had to wear it, but never clarified or explained anything further. I don't know why I was the chosen one to hear that story, but it was truly creepy, hearing it from a little kid like Blake. I've been trying to find some kind of story on a kidnapper or killer that was stabbed in the ear, but no luck yet.

At the same time, I'm kind of scared to find some. something. Also, he's never mentioned anything since that day about his past life, and I'm not sure if I want him to or not. When I was a kid, my favorite toy was a stuffed raccoon that I called Ricky, that I brought everywhere with me. My mom had an ongoing joke, where she would take Ricky and say, shh, he's saying something to me. Then, she would hold him up to her ear like he was whispering something to her. She would say, What's that?

You want to fly? And then she would throw him across the room, and I'd have to go pick him up. It was just a silly, playful way that she had of teasing me. Many years later, when I was 30, and my daughter was two years old, I ended up going through a bunch of my old belongings that I had in storage.

I found Ricky in one of the boxes, and I told my daughter, oh, this was my favorite stuffed animal when I was a little girl. I then handed him to her, and she said, He sang something. Then she held him up to her ear and said, He says he wants to fly. To start off, I live beside a cemetery,

so paranormal experiences aren't really surprising in this circumstance. Anyway, when I was around the evening, age of nine, and my sister was around 12, we shared a bedroom. To give you a bit of an idea, my bed was against one side of the wall, and hers was against the other, and there was a window between our beds. So, one night, I had woken up, but I'm unsure of what time it was, but I turned over to see a dark figure of a woman standing beside the head of my sister's bed. She had medium length hair, a tank top, and a skirt on. It took me a second to realize that she had no legs.

I put my pillow over my head for at least a minute, expecting her to be gone, but when I took the pillow off of my head, she was still in the same spot. I was completely terrified and started kicking the wall. After a minute or so, my dad got up to check what was going on, so he decided that he would sleep in my bed and I would sleep in his with my mom. Eventually I fell asleep and when I woke up, the lady was standing beside me. I jumped and moved closer to my mom. Then I saw what looked like a little version of me sitting beside her partially on the bed,

wearing the exact same clothes that I was wearing at that moment. In the end, I found out that my sister's boyfriend's cousin's cousin, My cousin was the dark figure that I saw. And unfortunately, a few days later, my sister's boyfriend Nolan passed away from carbon monoxide poisoning. Nolan's cousin had passed away many years ago in a horrific car accident. To this day, I wonder if she was looking out for my sister. This story is about these two black-eyed kids that I was unfortunate enough to meet. I was indifferent to them because of course I had never experienced this personally.

But I do wholeheartedly believe in the paranormal, and after my experience, I'm sure that they are out there. I got off late one night, but I was really itching to go for a run. Due to a double shift, I hadn't been able to for the last two days. I preferred running at night because I got to be alone with my thought. and enjoy the cooler breeze in peace, so I didn't want to miss this opportunity. I changed really quick, put my hair up, and locked the door behind me. I had created my own path, taking advantage of an incline, which, looking at my path on my

fitness app, it almost does a figure eight. So I went around the corner before the last turn to be back on the same street of my house. Looking up ahead, I could make out two people standing at the corner, almost like they were waiting to cross. However, they weren't facing towards either of the crosswalks. They were just facing towards me. This immediately caused alarm bells to go off, so I had slowed down to a walk. As I got closer, I could make out their features better, and from the looks of it, it was two kids. One was definitely older than the other, like maybe about 14 and 8.

Their clothing was odd, though. They were both in one of those long, old-fashioned nightgowns. Think a little house on the prairie style. I thought that it was odd to see these two younger girls wearing something like that, but then my mind went to some of the worst-case scenarios. What if these girls had been kidnapped and escaped? Maybe they were just lost and confused. So, I called out to them and asked if they were okay.

No response. I still felt uneasy about the situation, even more so since they weren't responding to me. So then I thought, maybe they were a distraction so that someone could abduct me. I got a little closer and again asked if they needed help with anything, and when they didn't respond again, I told myself that I did my good deed in trying to check on them. They just didn't seem interested in my help, so I decided to nope my way away from the situation and cross the street before reaching that corner.

This, of course, meant that I had to cross again twice to get back to the correct side. Once I got back on the same side, I noticed that they had turned to face me yet again. I picked my pace back up to a sprint and ran back to my heart. home. Once I got in, I locked the door and went to splash water on my face to calm me down. Afterwards, I took off my shoes, and as I was walking towards the kitchen to get some water, there was a knock on my door. My stomach just dropped, and I instantly regretted living alone at that point in time. I slowly approached the door and looked out the peephole, and I saw those same two girls standing on my doorstep holding a little.

hands. It was like they were staring right at me through the little hole. However, I could clearly tell now by the porch light that their eyes were pitch black. There was no white part. There was no iris, just pure black. I started getting this overwhelming sense of dread just looking at them, so I slowly and silently backed away from the door, thinking they couldn't have possibly known this was my place. There was a tall hedge on the other side of my neighbor's place that would have blocked their view if they were still on the corner, and when I was unlocking my door.

I looked around at that point, and I couldn't see them either. I hadn't turned on any extra lights yet in the living room, and there was only the light on above the sink in the kitchen, so they couldn't have seen any light through my curtains either. I couldn't make sense as to how they knew this was my home. However, as I backed away from the door without saying anything, I could hear the girls say, ma'am, can we please use your phone?

We need to call our mom. I didn't know how to react. How would they have even known that I was at the door? I just stood there without making a sound contemplating what to do when they spoke again. We know your home, ma'am, please, can we come in to use your phone? So I approached the peephole again, and while looking at them, I asked them,

What are you two doing outside alone this late at night in the first place? I watched as they both turned and looked at each other simultaneously, and then turned back towards the door. It felt like they were communicating telepathically or something. They just said, we got lost. Please, ma'am, can you let us in? I finally just told them that I would call the police for them and that they would be able to take them back to their mom.

They again looked at each other and back at the door, but didn't say anything. So I backed away and grabbed my cell phone and pretended like I was calling the cops. I guess I grabbed my phone in case I actually had to call them. I started saying out loud like I was talking. talking to an operator. Yes, hi, my address is...

My address. And there are two young kids at my door saying they're lost. Can you send an officer to take them home? After this, I went back to see what they were doing, but they were gone. They weren't on the porch in my yard, and I couldn't even see them out in the street in front. I was already feeling freaked out about their presence alone, but it felt even worse not knowing where they were. went. So I called the cops for real. They sent someone out and checked the surrounding area, but they were nowhere to be found. I feel like the officer thought that I was a bit crazy,

being afraid of some 14 and 8-year-old, but there was definitely something wrong with those kids. What were they going to do if they did get inside? Either way, I had never experienced black-eyed children before, and I genuinely... I genuinely hope that I never do again. My house is very haunted. Mostly from my sisters always using our Ouija board, I as well am to blame for some of the paranormal experiences in our lives. I have a few ghost friends of my own.

They're around my age, and there is three of them, Abigail, Addison, and Grace. Grace is the youngest of them all, and I don't really like her. She has red eyes and continues to knock my things down on my dresser. Abigail and Addison aren't as bad. They just scare me when they show up next to me without announcement, and I don't see them until I turn around. Their dad also follows me around.

I asked Abigail if she knew and she said, You look like his daughter that's still alive. As soon as I heard her say that, I knew that he meant no harm. These four ghosts aren't the main part of my story, though. There's much more than I will be explaining before the woman on the stairs. I started seeing ghosts at the really young age of seven. Because of how much they scared me,

I would have to sleep with my mom almost every night. Or at least, with someone. My dad's, I wouldn't have those problems because anything that spawned into my mom, house stayed at my mom's house and occasionally a few days after my grandma had passed away I would see her smiling at me while I was sleeping that would scare me even more but not as much as it normally would because I had this feeling that she wasn't there to hurt me in any way instead she was there to protect me from evil that comes in to my mom's house same thing happened when my great grandma had passed away just to

few months later of Alzheimer's. Thankfully, it was a peaceful death while she was sleeping. I never got to meet her, which made me quite sad. My sister's cat had also died a few days before my great-grandma, and I still see him walking around our house to this day, and sometimes still cry about it, because he was such a good cat. But this isn't all of the ghosts in my house. My downstairs bathroom, right in front of the stairs, is a portal between the paranormal and the living.

Many demons and angels, even fallen angels, have come through there during the night when it's most active. Sometimes when I'm having sleepovers with my friends, we will go down there, and a spirit will push something off of the counter, and those things will occasionally break when they get pushed. One of the spirits managed to get out of the portal line and now stays roaming my stairs, making them creak and bang at night, sometimes even peeking over the ledge at the top to see what me and my friends are doing.

The story is 100% real, and I'll write again once something else happens. I don't think that my son is the same kid he once was. I mean, sure, he is the same. person or body, but I don't think his mind or personality is the same. I know it sounds strange, but that's why I'm writing this, to further explain what I mean. My son's name is Cameron Michael, first and middle. He was born May 4th, 2007. He had brown straight hair taking after his mom, his mind was blonde, and he always liked it on the longer side.

We always let him decide what he wanted to do with his hair, never forcing him to grow it out or cut it. We just kept it managed, so either way, it wasn't in his face, but that was it. He was even beginning to like having half of his head shaved and keeping the other half long. He also enjoyed anything marvel or insect-related. He wasn't afraid to catch grasshoppers, crickets, pillbugs, or even something. spiders, although we wouldn't let him hold many spiders. I remember we even got him a bug-catching kid for his birthday the year prior, and he was ecstatic. He was also very outgoing.

Anytime we ran into another kid at the park or at the mall, you name it, he was quick to approach them. He would introduce himself, and he would then ask them who their favorite superhero was. As for his name, he always wanted to be called Cameron. He didn't even like the idea of being called Cam for short. Just a few important things that I can think of that changed after this incident. Back in May of 2016, we celebrated his birthday, and his big present that year was a bike. He didn't really have one prior because we were living in an apartment, but we had recently,

moved into a rental home. He was really close to his cousin Brett, and he loved riding his bike when he was at his house, so we agreed to get him one this year. As expected, he was always wanting to ride it. When he got home from school, we had to practically barter with him to get his homework done before he went out to ride.

My wife and I would typically walk alongside him to the park so we could ride around the path, or the open parking lot without much traffic. It was a Sunday evening, and Cameron wanted to go ride his bike before it got late, since he had school the next day. It wasn't dark yet, so we didn't have to worry about lights, but he did have reflective lights on the bike, as well as his helmet. It was just going to be me and him as my wife was staying behind to clean up the kitchen.

We left the house and started heading right towards the park. We pretty much lived behind it, so I was planning on walking down there with him, circling around, and then coming back home. Everything was fine until we started walking back home. There was a community board posted at the entrance, and sometimes they have events, and sometimes people like to leave their own dramatic notes, so I was glossing over it.

Cameron was circling the parking lot, and I told him to give me a moment, and he continued to ride around as he's always done before. It was really no different than any other times, so I wasn't exactly worried about keeping my eye on him as long as I could hear him. But, to my horror, I also started hearing a car seemingly rev up really loud, getting closer, and then, suddenly breaks squealing. I turned around, and I was faced with the worst thing to ever happen to me. Cameron was lying on the ground a few feet in front of this car, with his bike underneath it, all mangled up. I ran to my son expecting the worst.

The rest of that night was a blur, and it was like I was standing still, but everyone around me was moving at hyper speed. Yes, the person that hit him was arrested for reckless driving, and Cameron did turn out all right. He had several broken bones, but surprisingly, he only had a concussion and no other head or cranial damage. I'm still very thankful that we bought that helmet. However, after some time, I wasn't convinced that everything was all right due to the drastic changes in him that I witnessed. It was a little slow to get back to his normal, playful, and curious self, but I did start noticing things changing. One of the first was that he was not interested in Marvel or superheroes whatsoever.

His birthday was Iron Man themed, but he seemed completely disinterested in it. His interests altogether had changed. Now, he was obsessed with trains and locomotives, which was fine, but... It was also the amount of knowledge that he seemed to have about them. He got a book on them, and he was showing me the pictures and explaining the different parts on it, and how it all worked. I asked him how he knew all this, like joking around. He just looked at me deadpan and said, I used to work on them, and continue talking. He was nine years old.

How could he have possibly ever worked on a train? Other than the trained thing, there were other personality changes such as the shows that he watched, or even activities and hobbies that he had. He started playing chess, and he was good at it from the start. Hell, he actually taught me how to play properly because I didn't know. He also cut his hair short, so it grew out evenly and parted it to the side, something he had never done before. He seemed fascinated in electronics, though, even things as simple as a desktop computer. He had seen it and even used it infrequently, but he always asked about how it worked, as if he had never actually seen it before.

And one of the strangest things of all to me was the name part. He said he hated being called Cameron. And when asked, he said that he preferred to be called Cam or even Michael, but he then asked to be called Frankie. Again, I was confused because that was nowhere close to any of his names. I couldn't even recall any games or shows or movies that we watched that had someone with that name. So I again asked about the name, and he said, Oh, that was my old name.

My wife was home with us when this all happened, and she was just as confused. We tried to ask him more about the name, the train thing, all of it. And he just broke down. He said that he doesn't remember everything, but he thinks something happened when he got hit. He said that he doesn't think he's in the right body, and he didn't know how to live with it. Then he just cried, and we did everything we could to calm him down and try to cheer him up. We tried not to bring it up again in front of him. because we didn't want to upset him, but we tried to look into this a little more.

We started with the therapist, to ask questions for ourselves. We had no intentions of putting him through that just because he had changed. Part of us thought that maybe he was just a growing boy. His personality could be changing. We were really stuck between that and could this be related to the accident. Could this have damaged something that went unseen? Could it just be him getting older and trying to find himself? But then my wife brought up the idea of past lives,

and that she had started reading stories about them, and she thinks it may be related to Cameron's experience. We started looking into it more, and we tried to be open-minded, so I think that we both agree. Without speaking too much about it, that this was likely the scenario. And we decided to live with this in mind going forward. Life went on as normal from then on. Slight changes in who he was, but we lived with it and called him Frankie at his request.

We even told the rest of the family to do so, so that they didn't upset him. So, fast forward to 2021, we were all watching unsubly. solved mysteries, and there was an episode about reincarnation, and Frankie lost it. He started talking about how that must be what happens to him, that he must have been reborn. My wife and I both just kind of went, wow, that's crazy and definitely possible, and tried to get on with our night. Again, he was still a kid, and we didn't want to put that thought in his mind.

he should be able to enjoy his life and not have some kind of crisis that he died and was born again things have calmed down a bit since that happened again we tried to make it as normal as we possibly could my wife and I have flirted with the idea of looking into someone who matched what we know so far of this Frankie person but we don't even really know where to start

I just really hope it hasn't and doesn't impede on my son's life. I just want him to be happy with who he is, no matter who that happens to be. When I was six years old, my family moved into my grandfather's house. It was a small bungalow, and I shared a double bed with my eight-year-old sister and my four-year-old brother. One night my brother woke me up to say that he saw something scary at the window. We talked about it for a minute, or so, and decided to shout to our mother to check it out. She was watching TV in the living room, and we called for her a few times. There was an old wardrobe in the corner of the room, the door of the wardrobe opened, and our mother stepped out.

The room was very dark, so we... couldn't see her clearly, but she walked up to the bed and sat on the edge. We told her that there was something scary at the window. I hadn't seen it, so I'm not sure what my brother had seen. She gently pushed my brother's hair off of his forehead, and I asked her why she was in the wardrobe. She reached out and gently stroked my cheek with the back of her hand, but she never spoke. Then she got up off the bed and went back in. into the wardrobe. This behavior frightened us.

We started to shout for her again, and then our mother opened the bedroom door and came in asking what was wrong. We couldn't understand how she went in the wardrobe and then came in through the bedroom door. In the dim light, I saw my mother's light-colored hair, and realized that her hair looked black just a few moments ago. We asked her why she was in the wardrobe, and I asked her why her hair was black. My brother then told her about the scary thing at the window.

She reassured us, settled us back to sleep. Years later, I was told about my auntie Claire. The wardrobe was full of her old clothes and possessions. She had the same hairstyle as my mom, but she had jet black hair. Claire had died when I was just a few months old. She'd apparently fallen out the window of a high-rise flat, to her death. Hey there. So, this happened last year while I was working at a local thrift store.

We had always been one of the more popular and busy shops, so there was never a dull moment. But that also meant we were typically the go-to for donation drop-offs. I was a shift manager, so I was often there late, making sure all the donations were in, sorted and put away, so that we didn't have to come back to a mess. At the time of this event, it was November, and we were doing a coat drive. One of the hospitals nearby did an adopt-a-family-type deal each year, but they always started it early for this reason. They supplied the families with the coats that we got,

as well as food and gifts for the holiday. Our facility was big enough to store all the coats for them, as well as wash and sort them. And they always brought us treats for our work, so really it was a win-win-win. I liked all the feel-goods, you know. But this did not bring good feelings. This night, I already had two people working on the coats,

and for some reason, we got slammed with donations. It was like a whole neighborhood moved out and just left us with everything they didn't want to take. It was probably about an hour after closing, and I felt bad keeping a couple of them after their shift. Everyone was so kind and thoughtful of others when it came to covering breaks or shifts, but I never expect anyone to stay longer than they're scheduled. This is why I usually stay late, so when we finally got everything in, I told them that they could head out. one of my guys, Ollie, agreed to watch the store so I could at least take a quick break before he left too, which I was thankful for.

I went out to my truck so that I could smoke really quick and call my boyfriend. Afterwards, I usually just sit there with my window down, enjoying the night air, while doing something on my phone before I have to go back. This time, though, I just cracked the window and never fully rolled out. down. I guess I was just being lazy or just too tired to bother with it. They were manual windows after all. I think I was reading some article or story because I was pretty involved in my phone, to the point that I wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings. So when I noticed the time and went to get out of my car, I felt my soul leave my body, as I saw a kid standing by my driver's door staring at me.

After letting out a hefty yelp, I caught my breath and realized that this kid had not budged. You know how when you scare someone by accident, so you also jump from being startled? Yeah, they didn't do that. They just

continued staring in my truck. So, I say kid because they definitely looked younger, not to mention the old-timey school uniform that they were wearing. They had long, straight dark hair, and bangs long enough to cover their eyes. I always parked in the same spot, which was right below one of the few lights in the parking

lot. Because of this, the light hit the top of their head, causing even more of a shadow on their face. After a few seconds that, honestly felt like minutes, they hadn't moved from my door, making it so that I couldn't get out. So I just asked, uh, Can I help you? They didn't say anything, so I put my face closer to the glass to make out their face. And that's when they finally spoke. Can you give me a ride home? In a low, almost, monotone voice.

I continued to sit there for a moment before they finally repeated, saying, Ma'am, can you give me a ride home? Now hearing their voice, I was certain that it was a kid. They couldn't have been more than 14 years old or so. I had a son that was 12 at the time, and he was about the same height. But even though they were just a kid, something felt wrong, terribly wrong. I noticed that I started shivering, but it wasn't even really cold. I felt incredibly uneasy, so I slowly lifted my hand and placed it on the lock.

I spoke as I locked the door, trying to disguise what I was. was doing and I told the kid I'm sorry hon I'm still on working just on break are you okay are you out here alone the kid just said again with no emotion yes please ma'am I'm scared and I just want to go home can you let me in for someone who said that they were scared they didn't look act or sound scared at all they didn't look around there was no in their voice and their breathing didn't even seem erratic. So I told them again that I was still on the clock, and that I had to get back, but I offered to call an Uber or their parents,

or even the police if they felt that they were in danger. They declined my offer, insisting that I should be the one to take them home. I was starting to become overwhelmed with fear. I couldn't get out of my truck because they were standing close enough to breathe on the window. I also did not want to get out with them so close to me. I didn't know what they were planning. So, in case something were to happen, I wanted to make sure that I knew what they looked like. I took my cell phone and shined the flashlight on their face, and that made it even worse.

I realized it wasn't their bangs or the shadow in the darkness covering their eyes. Their eyes were pitch black. I could see their mouth and nose and followed it up to their eyes, and they just, looked sunken in and dark. Like they had no eyes at all. This caused me to say something a little unladylike, and I quickly rolled my window up the rest of the way, and called Ollie.

There was no way in hell I was getting out of my truck now. As I explained to Ollie what was going on, this kid just continued staring into my truck. He agreed to walk out to my truck to make sure that I could get out safely. At least I was hoping that if they tried anything, it would be a 2v1, so the odds should be in our favor. As Ali approached my truck, I could hear him shouting something in our direction. This caused the kid to look over at him, and Ollie stopped dead in his tracks.

I cracked my window again and told the kid that it was best that they move along, and that we would call for help. They slowly turned their head back towards me, then opposite of Ollie, and slowly started walking towards the edge of the parking lot toward the, the road. I was still a bit torn, but maybe that was because I was a mom. I was terrified. That fear that caused me to barricade myself in my truck was not letting up. But yet, I didn't want this kid to walk into the street. I quickly called 911, and when they were far enough away, I got out. I talked to Ollie for no more than a minute or so as I explained

what all had happened. By the time I turned back around to look at for the kid, they were gone. The parking lot was bare. There was a small median at the edge that just had barberry bushes in it. If you aren't familiar with them, they're pretty much just small, purplish leaves and thorns everywhere. There's no way they tried to hide on it because of those thorns. There was nothing else in the lot, and I was in complete confusion as to where they could have gone. My shivering seemed to get worse, but again,

I wasn't cold. I sure was terrified, though. We both went back into the store, locking the doors and waiting for the police. Thankfully, Ollie agreed to stay with me until they arrived, which made me feel better, and also made my experience more credible, I suppose. When they got there, we told them what we had witnessed. I left out the eye thing because I didn't want them to think I was crazy or pulling some prank. I basically explained that there was a kid around here with no adults and that they were asking for help but took off.

They looked around the building in that same lot and even across the street. As you may have guessed, they never found them. But they said that they would make a report and check for missing and runaway children reports. I never heard anything else about it after that incident. Ollie and I have never forgotten about it, and, in fact, we've talked about it on occasion. He told me about when he stopped walking towards me. When they turned to look at him, all that he could see was a dark face with faint, glowing eyes. He said it was like the glare that some people's eyes have in photos,

but there was no reason for that to happen by just looking at them. Between that and the overwhelming dread he instantly got too, he felt his body made him stop, or something told him to not get closer. I kind of knew of black-eyed kids' stories prior, but I never really thought about it one way or another. I started looking into it more after I told a friend about this, and they were up in arms, thinking that I had just experienced one. I can definitely believe it now between the... the weird clothes, dark yet glowing eyes, not to mention the eerie feeling they brought with them.

If it was a black-eyed kid, then I hope to never experience anything like that again, because I don't know how I would react, and I don't want to know what would happen if there wasn't a barrier between us. So, I used to have this entity follow me around for a couple of months. He never really did anything, but he would have to be. was always around. He would always be in a hoodie and have the hood on his head, and his face was gray. This one time, I was in my room sitting in a chair, turned away from my bathroom door so that my back was to the opening, and my ex-girlfriend and her best friend were sitting in my bed talking to me.

They started freaking out and pointing behind me, so I turned around, and you know how when there's door open and there's a crack? Yeah, well, he was watching us from that crack in the bathroom door. Then, one late night, I was driving home in a 2000s Montecarlo, which has a very small back seat. I was coming home from one of those calls. You know how it is, and I was jamming out to some red jumpsuit apparatus. I glance up, and I look in the rear view mirror, and I see the hooded figure. in my back seat staring at me.

It was one of the scariest things I have ever experienced.