As The Raven Dreams Podcast - Sinner And Saint by Ray Beaman | #CreepyPasta Narration

Episode Date: May 15, 2021

Sinner And Saint- the yin to one's yang, the balance and to the corruption. You are the sinner, Mr. Adams, and you know what comes next... PLEASE Check Ray out on all of his platforms. This man is an amazing author and deserves SO MUCH recognition. http://www.awritestruggle.com  http://www.instagram.com/a_write_struggle  http://www.twitter.com/awritestruggle  Want to see your story Featured in a video? Send it my way!  ➤  https://www.astheravendreams.com/submit  Or Post It To My Subreddit!  ➤ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream  ✯✬✯✬✯✬ All stories come with a Mild Content Warning for Language and/or Graphic content. Viewer Discretion is advised. You're valid, and you are important- Never let anyone tell you otherwise.  ✯✬✯✬✯✬ 【TIMESTAMPS 🕠】 0:00 ➤ Hit That 👍 Button if you liked the video! 0:08 ➤ Sinner And Saint by Ray Beaman   34:09 ➤ Leave A Comment, Let Me Know What You Thought!   ➤ Human fingers can feel objects as small as 13 nanometers. “This means that, if your finger was the size of the Earth, you could feel the difference between houses from cars.”  ✯✬✯✬✯✬ 【Disclaimer】 ➤All stories within are used w/ direct permission from the author- or under some level of CC license (where noted) True Stories are not verified, and should all be considered 'supposedly true'. Some Fonts used are from https://www.misprintedtype.com - Eduardo Recife makes some AMAZING fonts! #TrueScaryStories #Reddit #AsTheRavenDreams Be sure to *subscribe* if you like any of the following; #GlitchInTheMatrixStories #DeepWebHorrorStories #CryptidEncounters #RedditScaryStories #ASMR #CreepyTrueStories #Creepypasta #RedditGhostStories #DeepWoodsHorrorStories #DogmanStories #SkinwalkerStories, #RedditStories - Or Really anything, I'm a pretty diverse person.  --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/support Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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And here we are. If you were to look at your life, Mr. Adams, I mean, really, look. It would be quite naive of you to think that this wouldn't happen. I mean, come on. Did you really think that things would not catch up with you? Did you really think that you were impervious to God's right? wrath. God can see everything, Mr. Adams, and I can assure you, he did see everything. He saw your greed, he saw your wrath, and he most definitely wept when he saw your heresy.

I will tell you a little something about God. God, well, he is a merciful, Lord. God is capable of great forgiveness, for Christ's sake, he sent his only son to die for our sins. Can you even imagine that kind of sacrifice? Wait, no, of course you can't. You can only imagine you. And that, Mr. Adams, well, that is your greatest sin, which brings me back to our God. He is a merciful Lord, but he is also vengeful. And it has vengeance, which has brought me to you. You and I, we are polar opposites. Chalk and cheese, Pepsi, and cola.

One of us is clean while the other is filthy. And we both know which is which, now don't we? I'm here to clean the mess, Mr. Adams. I am here to wash away the dirt and rid this world of sin. I am the ocean and I am the wave. I am the purging fire and I am the rapture that this world so desperately craves. You and I, we've been brought together almost by some kind of divine comedy. Irony?

I suppose you have to be a fan. It's quite apparent, though, that the sinner never can't. and quite see the end coming, can they? Well, Mr. Adams, let us take a little look back, shall we? Can you honestly not see how you came to be here? Stuck? Within this one room? Stuck here?

With me? Canto. On the surface, the town was perfect. A regular piece of paradise hidden away from the devout. element of modern England. It was an untouched gem. Gentrification had passed it by, and instead, Canto had somehow managed to maintain its enduringly rustic and traditional feel.

Flanked by forest and protected by hills, this town only existed for its inhabitants. With the population of around 100, the town itself had a warmth, a closeness that could be felt just by walking its quaint roads or by visiting any of its three pubs. The populace seemed kind. They seemed generous, and most importantly, they seemed human, a trait which had long been diminishing from this world. And this is why we fell in love with the town. It was, for all of those reasons, that we planned to move there one day,

It would be a comfortable life, a better life. Unfortunately, life had different plans for us. When the time came that I finally took the plunge and moved, it was only me who made the trip. My job allowed me the luxury of working from home, which meant the remote nature of the town would not be a problem to my profession. I could spend my days relaxing, breathing in the first, freshness of the air and hopefully I could find the time to recover from the year prior.

Life, well, life had taken a turn for the worse. I had suffered and I had lost. Everything I had loved had somehow crumbled and slipped through my fingers and it had almost broken me. After all, there's nothing like loss to truly remind you of what you once had. In the middle of the journey of life, I've found myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost, but I was determined to heal. We all experience bad days. Some are worse than others. In these moments, we have a choice.

We either find the strength to continue or we sink into the abyss. I would not disappear. I would not allow myself to fall into hell, so I made the choice, just as so many people before me had. I chose to live. Moving to Canto would allow me to move on figuratively and literally. I thought things would be better. I thought things would be easier, but I was wrong. I knew as much.

the morning that I received the first letter. It was the day that I moved into my new home. Everything was in turmoil. Boxes of my possessions lay in piles on my new living room floor, and there was still so much left to do. Even though the house understandably felt disjointed, I still felt a sense that things were finally clicking into place. And then I heard the letterbox open.

Probably something for the previous occupants. I made my way over to the door, and I retrieved the letter. The envelope was clean white, no scuffs, no blemishes. On the front, written clear and crisp in an elegant calligraphy, was a single word. Sinner. Confused. I carefully opened it and retrieved the small piece of paper from within.

My eyes moved across the words. Here too, I saw a nation of lost souls. Far more than were above. They strained their chests. Against enormous weights and with mad howls rolled them at one another. Then, in haste, they rolled them back. One party shouting out, why do you hoard and the other why do you waste for a few seconds i looked at the words and then

without a second thought i discarded the letter with a tear it was inconsequential it was nonsense there was still so much work left to do today so the letter left my mind quickly and i carried on unpacking. However, the letter would prove to be far more significant than its initial impressions. A day turned from one and then to two. I spent my time exploring the town and savoring my new surroundings. The air, it somehow felt fresher here. Cleansing, even.

Everything seemed to glow, and life actually seemed to be moving in the wrong. right direction for once. Inspiration could be found on every corner. New ideas hid in plain sight, and my mind was a place with possibilities. This is it. I can move on. The feeling, however, would not last.

On the third morning of my new life, just when I was beginning to believe that everything was going to be fine, the past came knocking once more. I heard it. It's ugly presence. It's nasty nature.

It was there and it slipped so easily back. The letter box opened and it came crashing loudly through, falling silently against the mat by my front door. Once again, I moved forward and retrieved the letter and once again, I was greeted by a single word. sinner This time My hands shook as my fingers retrieved

The small piece of paper from within Your arrival Has been one which we have anticipated For some time We've counted the seconds And we've counted the days We know that you received our first message Just fine

You must know That the past Is written by our hand Our crimes create a beach and each sin is a grain. The beach is forever and our sins are the sand. You must know that the tapestry is woven by an unbreakable bond. The intricacies are clear and solidified everlasting. They are a testament to all of those that you have ever wronged.

We have waited for you with the feverish passion and a scorching desire, with an unrelenting vengeance that will never expire. The notes have been written and your transgressions have been captured. Your soul has been marked, and your soul will be raptured. The angels have demanded, and the angels have attested. The angels have commanded, and the angels have suggested, that I relinquish your sin from your body at last, that I cleanse your temple. of your horrid past, that I visit your home, and I visit it fast, that I visit your home,

and firmly cast your wickedness away in one divine and final swoop. You have laughed at God, and now there is no forgiveness left to recoup. For sinner understand that it is God's will that I clence this plain. For sinner understand that it is God's will that his words are never in vain. So watch me, sinner, for I am his hand and his child. So watch for me, sinner. His will can never be defiled. I read the words once, and then I read them again. The air seemed to catch in my throat as each carefully placed lines sunk in.

My heart quickened as my eyes moved from one sentence to the next. This was not something to be ignored. Someone had somehow found me, and this was definitely just the beginning. Again, the days moved forward, but this time the feeling of tranquility, which had just begun to grow from within me, had now been removed. In its place was now a hollow and deep sense of dread, which gnawed at my mind encased my senses. I tried my best to ignore the situation. I guess I was trapped in my own denial, hoping that somehow it would just go away on its own. Deep down, however, I knew that it wouldn't.

Shortly after, my phone began to ring at night. I knew that it was related to the letter. The first night it rang, in the hour when the world slept and the darkness loomed, I just knew. I could not even muster the courage to answer it. It rang, and it rang, and then, after a few moments, silence fell across my home. I barely slept an hour that night. The days moved and my nightly call persisted, always a single phone call and always precisely as the clock struck 2311. How strange it felt that my newly found home.

that this town that it could feel so different when the sun had set. During the day, the town was nothing but serenity. A peaceful and pleasant environment that seemed to hug you with its warmth, but at night, when the lights bled from existence and the horrible darkness took hold, at night, it was something else. After around three more days and three more nights, I finally decided to answer the phone. The receiver felt so heavy as I retrieved it from its base, and I brought it to my ear.

Hello? Static seemed to hiss through the line before finally a young man spoke. I am the way into the city of woe. I am the way into eternal pain. I am the way to go among the loss. My skull buzzed. Excuse me? The young man laughed.

I can do anything but, Mr. Adams. We shall be seeing you soon. The line then went silent. My life seemed to burn as I stood in the pitch black hall with phone in hand. The walls smoldered in my mind. sparked. My chest became heavy, and the world around suddenly felt wrong. My home?

It was no longer a sanctuary. It was no longer my haven. Danger oozed thick through the gaps and the foundations of the house swayed as if built upon sand. All of which I had tried to bury. All the pain, all of the sadness, it was back. It had returned to me. In literal form, a specter of a voice through the phone, a handwritten note of intention, all of it, misery personified. The inky blackness of my soul bubbled dangerously beneath my form.

My choices were coming back for me, and there would be no escape. Again, that night, sleep eluded me. In the morning, I decided that I needed assistance. Of course, a sane mind would have contacted the local authorities. Of course, a sane mind would have told them about what was happening, reported the letters and the phone calls, and pleaded for help. A sane mind would have done all of those things, but the cracks were showing, and once again,

I was beginning to realize mine was not a sane mind. Instead, I visited the local doctors in search of a sleeping aid. My surroundings barely registered as my thoughts cascaded against the shore of my consciousness. Life was meant to be different here. Things were meant to change. I was meant to change. I was meant to be different. There is no escape.

There is no escape. From within the internal turmoil, a soft, sweet voice seemed to pull me back from the precipice. Mr. Adams? I looked up from my seat, and there she was. Sunlight, incarnate. Her smile seemed to radiate pure light as she cased upon me. The doctor's not in today, but I can see you.

I'm Nurse Lily. My lips communicated without any assistance. Okay. She smiled pure perfection once more. Please, follow me. She led me from the room, away from the sick and infirm and into the solitude of a brightly lit office. She took a seat behind her desk, and I slumped into the chair opposite. Immediately, the rigidness of the wood wrenched at my fatigued body.

Nurse Lily took a few moments to look over the computer screen next to her, before turning back to me with another intoxicating smile. Welcome to canto, Mr. Adams. Your previous GP has already sent over your records, so that's good. We can save a bit of time here. So what seems to be the problem? Such a simple question with such a complicated answer. I'm having trouble sleeping.

It must be the new surroundings. The lie seemed to slip so easily from my lips. It is the new surroundings. I think I just need a little bit of help, just something to help me sleep. Okay, let me see what I can do. Her attention turned back to the computer monitor, and she began to type loudly. The rhythmic clap of her fingers meshed into an improvised lullaby, which hung hard across my weary eyes.

There can be beauty within the madness. Again, her soft voice pulled me back from within. How are you coping with what happened? She knows. I should have seen this coming. Excuse me? I'm sorry. I should have said,

I'm a big fan of your work, Mr. Adams. I was saddened to hear of what happened. Excuse the silly question. I guess a little help sleeping is just what you need. For long, the prescription was in my hand and I was leaving the building. As I left, The thought of Nurse Lily followed me back into the world. She infected my thoughts and persisted long after my visit.

Her beauty lingered, and she was still there as the sun set that night. Thankfully, things felt different this time. The radiance of my encounter seemed to illuminate the darkness of the approaching night. That and the sleeping pill as I slid it hastily into my mouth, Sweet slumber, take me for your own. I stirred, slightly. My eyes opened. I turned in my bed, the clock on the table beside me glaring brightly with the time.

23.11. Without thinking, I rose from the mattress and stumbled in to the solid blackness of the hallway outside. It was there, a few meters from me, and it was ringing. I knew that I did not want to answer it, but my legs carried me towards it anyways. The hallway extended unnaturally long before me, seemingly to only grow longer and further as I took each step. With each weighty movement, my thoughts swirled, a mess of contradiction, contaminated with a rancid and stinking fear. You must answer it. You must.

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You're not ready. Don't answer it. It's only going to get worse. It will come for you. Your choices brought you here. Finish this. The phone rung one final time as I picked up the receiver. Static cut through the line before the young man spoke.

Never in heaven, but only below. The sinner festers. Their flesh no more than decay and fire. trapped for eternity by the choices of their hand. The silence around me seemed to suffocate as I replied, Why can you not just leave me alone? The young man laughed. The devil makes work for idle hands, Mr. Adams.

And although you feign to be busy, your hands have been most definitely idle. Suddenly, I became aware of my own strained breaths as a nasty anxiety fizzed throughout my veins. The time has come, Mr. Adams, we are here. Somewhere, within the darkness, seeming so far away, yet so near, all at the same time, I heard a door move and open. The air felt cooler as the night followed them in, through an unlocked door and carefully into my home.

They are here. They have come for me. In a horrid panic, I slammed the receiver down, almost expecting that if I disconnected the call, then the nightmare would end. It would not, though. I knew that. Someone was here.

Someone was in my home. I turned in slow motion as the blood drained from my face. My legs trembled as the world sped up and the reality of the threats screamed loudly against my wall. My steps were not my own. My life was not my own. Motion blurred as my body carried me back to my room as the feeling of a person chasing me clouded my thoughts. Thankfully, after a few seconds, I was back, back in my room and a little safer as I clicked the lock closed on my bedroom door. And then, nothing but silence followed.

Wind blew through the trees. Outside, as the air flowed in and out of my chest, my breathing had not steadied and only seemed to grow more labored and forced as my eyes remained fixed on the closed door in front of my chest. my breathing had not steadied and only seemed to grow more labored and forced as my eyes remained fixed on the closed door in front of me this cannot be happening this cannot be happening as the terror gripped my soul

and the nasty night cut against me I began to hear footsteps outside of my door closing the distance coming for me The horrid noise grew louder as it grew closer Until finally I heard the wait pause just outside of my door A shadow below Through the crack between the bottom and the floor

Could be seen as the intruder stood in dead silence just outside I sucked a breath as the anxiety grew thicker against me Hello Almost as soon as the word had left me, a reply quickly followed from behind the door. The fires await the worst of men. They lick against the damned, but they never clench. Flesh and bone are redundant when only pain awaits.

The torment is forever. The torment is everlasting. Silence. The wind outside seemed to be growing more intense, as my life inside decayed irrevocably. My lips quivered as I waited, but nothing followed. Silence. Then, without thinking, I responded,

Please, I pleaded. Please, just leave me alone. I suffer already. I do suffer. Every single day. Can you not just leave me be? I'm already in hell. I'm already being punished,

and it will be forever. I know that. Please, let me wallow in my own sin. From behind the door, the young man laughed. Oh, no, Mr. Adams, you do not. You have no idea what suffering is. You have no idea how your actions affect those around you of the lives that you destroy.

All that you are, aware of is you. Has it not even occurred to you yet? Why I have done nothing but refer to myself as we? The language of my words is very important, after all. I had missed it, and it was too late. I never even heard as the window slid open behind me. I never even felt the steps approach or the change in my surroundings as another person made their way towards me. My thoughts had only ever been on my own perception, and it was clear now that my perception was fallible. I knew that, finally.

It was just far too late. The arms closed around me from behind, and clamped strong around my throat. The room spun, and my consciousness faded. As my mind slipped into the abyss, As it sunk into the darkness and the world collapsed around me, only one thought lingered. There were two of them. I had missed it, and it was too late. Slap against my face stung as it awoke me from my violent slumber. Mr. Adams, I have been talking. Have you not been listening?

My eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness of the room. Two men stood. before me, studying me, judging me. Instinctively, I tried to move, my arms appeared to be tied behind me, shackling me to the chair which I now found myself sitting in. The first man spoke again. Mr. Adams, I have been talking to you. I'm trying to ascertain whether you actually know the full extent of your sin. Now, However, seeing your disheveled form before me, it is clear to me that you do not. It would be laughable, really. You know, the way that you delude yourself, the way that you shield yourself from what you have actually done.

It really would be laughable if it were not an affront to our God. But I guess that is neither here nor there. Me and my brother here, me and Luke, we are mess with. of the Almighty. We are his hand, and we are his instrument. You may perceive us to be antagonists in this little chapter, which you are writing here, but I think all of us already know how unreliable your perceptions can be. After all, does the bad guy ever truly think of themselves as such?

A tear formed in my eye, as I felt. a small amount of blood drip from the impact of the slap against my nose. Torment comes in many forms, Dante. Some are simple, but most can be poetic. The master of torment is adept at the poetic. His actions are lines and his actions are cantos in a long and beautiful maze of the most perfectly crafted forms imaginable. And sometimes, well,

Sometimes. He has to do very little in his work. Sometimes the sinner is more than willing to bestow divine retribution upon themselves. As I said before, irony. I guess you have to be a fan. Luke smiled at his brother's words. Please, I tried once more. just please the young man shook his head no dante unfortunately not this little chapter is coming to an end now but there will always be time for the next that's the beauty the sinner will never be clean so turn turn now and bring this to an end suddenly i've been a bit suddenly i've been

became aware of my arms. Looking down, I could see that I was no longer tied up. My gaze returned upwards, but the two brothers were no longer in front of me. Confused? I stood from the chair, and I turned. And that is where I saw it. It was not there before, but now it was. Inexplicably and without reason, waiting for me, demanding my attention.

I guess I knew that it was. It had always been there, but it was only now that I was ready to see it. It called to me. It welcomed me. The red, old-looking typewriter sat on a table, a ray of light illuminating it perfectly within the shadows. It looked clean. It looked maintained, and it looked out of place amongst the modern aesthetic of my bedroom. A fresh piece of paper had been left within the typewriter.

Whatever was on the page seemed to be what had been calling for me. It had been the real reason for my insomnia, and would always keep me awake until the message had been read. With the shaking hand, I retrieved the paper and read, We are winning. We can win. I have to believe that. So far, my messages have gone undetected, but I am uncertain of how much longer that will be the case. Just as before, it is all there for you to see. You just have to actually want to see it.

It is my genuine hope that you will figure this out and that we can be free. Understanding is key. Understanding is the key. Together, we will ascend the levels and gain salvation. Together, we can accomplish anything. I know this to be true, and I know that we will succeed. Just hold on, just a little longer. Our fates rests with you.

So read my words and watch for the next. D.A. I read the words once and then I read them again. As my eyes settled on the title at the top of the page, I knew that things were only going to get worse. The three words were crisp and the three words were meaningful. even though their message escaped me. As I read them,

somehow I knew that the nightmare would only continue. Sinner and Saint. So that was once again, Sinner and Saint by Ray Beam. And Ray is a freaking amazing author and really good friend of the channel. This guy never ever disappoints with what he writes, I swear. This one obviously tied back into his.

last one, which was really interesting. The Red Typewriter, I'm super excited to see where this goes. Yeah, super actually, like, I am beyond ecstatic to read this one and realize it's all connected. Now, I'm just, I want to know more. Please, Ray, enlighten us with more. Yeah, so all that said, friends, if you enjoyed this, please check out Ray's links down in the description below. Ray is an amazing man, like I said, fabulous author, really good friend of the channel. Love this guy. Absolutely. So please, give him. him all of love. Make sure you hit that thumbs up button. Hit the subscribe button if you're not already

subscribed and the bell icon next to it. You can also hit that thumbs up button. I think I already said that, but I'm gonna say it again. Let me know what you thought about the channel. Now I'm all confused. Let me know what you thought about the video in the comments. I am really lost. Comment. Let me know what you thought. Let Ray know what you thought. Hit the thumbs up if you liked it. Subscribe, bell icon. Follow me on

the social media's support over Patreon coffee, channel memberships, all patrons and members get early access. And sometimes extra content. I'm not going to say anymore because my brain is fluseled. So you all have a beautiful day. Have a great weekend. I'll see you next time.

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