As The Raven Dreams Podcast - "Starving Dogs" By CrashingCymbal | Nevermore Storytime | Creepypasta

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Starting point is 00:00:39 Oh, so soon. And profite. Villaray, the voice that we love. Sunday. If there's one thing that I have grown to greatly appreciate over the last few months, it's my wife's irrational thought that all psychologists keep their work life absolutely alienated. from their private life. Emily never was one to question my motives and methods, and when it came to matter that I felt uncomfortable about her snooping around,

Starting point is 00:01:13 keeping her distance from unknown territory was a coded command you could always rely on her to be obedient about, much to my pleasure, rather than hers. Regarding this, I could tell that Emily's unanswered, curious mind had always wondered what occurred within the small block of these four office walls. After all, I can't really blame her. Every speckle of dust, every faded and recent coffee ring, every slam of the cabinet drawers,

Starting point is 00:01:46 and every rattle of organizing stacks of paper into a neat, non-overflowing bundle against the desk had its own story. Didn't it? After all, you can't really pin this on the cat. He was only responding to his natural territorial instinct. Probably the last thing I felt when I got the call this morning was surprise. I can still visualize the anxiety elapsing, Mr. Kukowski's face, the moment he received the call from his doctor's office nearly four years ago,

Starting point is 00:02:22 and the only thing that honestly surprised me was how he hadn't bitten the dust any time sooner. I would sooner pop myself than to know I would have to live four malcontent years with the diagnostics of lung cancer. On the contrary, though, strong-willed Chuckie eased through the enfeebleing cancer whirlwind and simply continued to go about his everyday responsibilities with an odd kind of masked effortlessness, despite the fact that it shredded him from the inside out, like the arduous, this bone-shattering burden that he tried so resiliently to disguise, he was an excellent employer and a level-headed boss. Well, by our terms he was anyway.

Starting point is 00:03:13 Had this expected death come one week earlier, it would have crafted the perfect alibi for me. I genuinely hope that Emily and the kids enjoy Florence for the few days, and I only regret that I can't warn them, to take the Italian experience for granted, without a rousing suspicion from my already bugging wife. There are still plenty of flights you can book now. We have the money to pay for another seat.

Starting point is 00:03:43 The kids and I both want you here. These were among some of the several nags that were aimed at me during the last few weeks. As much as I would love to be with the family, Fiezi have instructed and honored me to carry out their latest ideology. in what is expected to be the most controversial, yet groundbreaking experiment to date. Isolation, survival, poverty, imprisonment, dehumanization. They all link in to what is expected to flourish into this ruthless, starving dogs experiment. Despondency will be key.

Starting point is 00:04:24 Entry 2. Monday. What would the Homo sapiens? species be like today if the virtue of humanity had never existed or developed, if at all, later than expected. This invigorating thought has frequently labelled my mind since I was about 16 years of age, and it was all that I could preciously be concerned about as I smiled, waved, and gave false words of reassurance to my creedulous family as they exited the house for their flight, and final time at 5 o'clock this morning.

Starting point is 00:05:02 I thought about how this holiday has no meaning to human survival, no benefit to our nature, and simply serves to satisfy the recreational need of the human mind developed by humanity. When you put a lot of thoughts into it, within a short space of time, it's actually scary to think of the amount of services humanity partaken, not just these days but in the past also, for the sake of the virtue itself.

Starting point is 00:05:30 A prime example of this, I believe, is religion. I have always seen religion as a value that is never entirely accomplished or satisfied. It seems to me that no beliefs can have too many members or even too many missions to serve of whoever or whatever their followers are serving. Or even those who guide their followers for either good intentions or power, over people, whatever the reason. The result? Either you grow into the world's largest religion of over 2 billion, both active and inactive members.

Starting point is 00:06:08 Or all of your members are either killed or arrested at harrowing scenes in Waco, Texas. People who strictly follow these organized faiths are really only doing so for one reason. Self-fulfillment. To one day go to... Heaven, Jeannot, or to be reincarnated. The more I think about it, I can truthfully say that I cannot think of any other logical benefit of their system other than to fulfill one's humanity virtue. Going to church every Sunday for an hour, fasting during the day for, what is it, two weeks, a month maybe. I can't remember the exact guidelines of Ramadan, irrelevant anyway, because commitments vary inexamination.

Starting point is 00:06:57 but I believe the principle behind it all is still relatively akin. I'm keeping this diary specifically separate from the rest of my entries for a very good reason. I keep this diary to express my thoughts, my judgments during a vital week of my life when my humanity will be the most strained beyond its usual limit. And for some reason, all I can think about is if the contractor is dropping by tomorrow. Maybe it's Wednesday. I'll have to call about that later. Maybe it plagues my head because I am just too fond of the sitting room I have right now.

Starting point is 00:07:40 The mantelpiece, the blue leather sofa and its two stocky armchair companions, the looming glass cabinet of fancy knick-knacks, family heirlooms, and, personal memorabilia, memories. For whatever time I step in there for the next, whatever amount of hours until the contractor comes, bushing images of baby steps, scraped knees and tears, romantic movies with wine, chocolates, and flickering television lights in a dark room. Rainy days with unfinished monopoly games are going to flash by me, and all I can't help but do is half willing to.

Starting point is 00:08:23 accept it. New memories, old memories replaced with the former of results, discoveries, and observations. Day and night surveillance from my office as they hopefully, slowly

Starting point is 00:08:39 settle into their new habitat. At first, humanity will take full throttle, and there will be confusion, angst and suffering, that will wither and die as nature should rear its monster, lustrously ugly, yet beautifully ambitious head, and create the scenarios that I will be scribbling

Starting point is 00:09:00 notes on and reporting back to Fiasi. I wonder when that contractor is coming. We both have a lot of work to do. Diary Entry Number 3, Tuesday Make a Wish as what my mother would say to me when I was just a six-year-old boy gathering fluffy tandelions and attempting to blow all the seeds off them in one striking go. 24 years on, and looking back at those seeds forcefully fleeing in the opposite direction of their home, all I am reminded of is someone holding a 12-gauge shotgun in their mouth and blowing their brains out,

Starting point is 00:09:42 her head dissolving into little pink and red pieces, and not flying, but drifting quickly towards the wall and ceiling. Now, I'm not paranoid enough to own a gun at the moment, but maybe as time goes by paranoia will seemingly convert into jittery common sense, and I'll submit to a hesitant deceivment. The contractor came today, and he removed everything. It was noisy at times, but it was nice to have some background music, because I was starting to become uncomfortable with my new solitude, like an unwanted hive that you. You just can't scratch enough. The pieces of the now plural organ would make a wonderful artistic design for the horribly, eerie, empty room.

Starting point is 00:10:32 Their revolting presence would go hand in hand, and at least then there would be some sort of scenery to accompany your misery. The brain splatter design and a suicide both share the same value right now. Solution. The steel door. are going to be installed tomorrow, and then the walls are going to be painted a blanche white. The old man next door, he gave me a concerned look when I saw him today.

Starting point is 00:11:01 He adjusted a nice little smile on his face when he was watering his plants in that flowery hat. But he had an engraved look of apprehension beneath his cracked, rosy red cheeks. Maybe. Maybe he can read me. or maybe it's the less than average sleep that I've been getting lately becoming evident throughout my weary self. Maybe I should get acting lessons from the lovable man next door. The Stanford Prison Experiment is something I've been fascinated by for a very long time. At its very basic core, 24 male students taken under guard and misshaped by psychological torture and abuse.

Starting point is 00:11:45 It went horribly wrong, of course, and even after just six days, the officers involved wanted more. They had power, they had control. They were the ones given the rights to take rough protocol that they deemed necessary by Mr. Zimbardo himself. My upcoming experiment is too similar to that of the 1971 prison experiment. There may only be one difference, but because I report my findings to a secret organization who keep their darkest secrets locked in a secured filing cabinet rather than the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps, it's pretty fucking significant.

Starting point is 00:12:27 I'm the lead professor behind all this, and I am open to the exceptionally likely possibility that I will be mutilated into one of those power-hungry prison guards, examples just like the sunset that drains the color out of the, of buildings and trees in a distant horizon. Locked in a room, huddled, scared, basic rations, and no means of recreation, meaning, or goal to feed their draining and starving civilization. Emily will be the worst affected, no doubt.

Starting point is 00:13:08 Michael and Sandra, on the other hand, I'm not so sure. they might be too young to realize the confusion that society places on such an act. Again, locked in a room, huddled, scared basic rations and no means of recreation, meaning, or goal to feed their draining and starving civilization like male rabbits in a hut. There from birth feeding through a drip. I dictate the period in which I wish to observe them. I am their owner. They were family to me once, but now all they are, to me, are white mice on running wheels and a large black-railed cage on blue plastic.

Starting point is 00:13:58 Diary Entry 4 Wednesday There are recent rotting rodent remains in the raw room downstairs, and I'm rereading the last line of my previous entry. I paid over 10 grand for all the new installations, and I hate it. They are horribly calm and overwhelming, dazingly quiet and eerie, too peaceful, perfect. It's everything I require for my work to go ahead. I've given myself the all-clear. Unfortunately, as soon as I had seen that I had diminished a section of my house to absolutely nothing, I panicked and ran back upstairs, little beads of sweat trickling,

Starting point is 00:14:42 down from my forehead, whilst I swallowed the quickly recurring lump haunting my throat. I have no idea why, but I just couldn't stand it. There was a thing in my house that contained less content than a plastic bag floating in the wind, other than for that brief moment that I had experienced it. It was horrifying. White with red, it's such a malignant combination, Like when a roofer slips off the top of a 60-degree angle roof and smacks his temple off the sharp corner of a gray concrete wall.

Starting point is 00:15:20 Red flows out of a large, caching wound, and his skin drains to white quicker than an endangered chameleon. I sat up in my room, quivering from the room's presence, and all I could recollect was the image of the exploding, bloody dandelion, imagining the brain matter slowly seeping down the white wall with pieces sooner or later trickled to the floor making a chunky, splattering sound. While my mind generated this thought in that moment, all I could think was how ventilating those squishy sounds and vivacious colors were.

Starting point is 00:16:01 The suicide was simply not an option. As much as I am contemplating it at the moment, Those nuts at Fiasi will do God knows what to my family if I don't carry out their orders. That's why I keep rereading the last line of my previous entry. I fear that there are moments when I am turning in to one of them. Those fucked up, rusty-brained, disregarding slabs of meat and slime that I work for and told myself that I respected. Ziggy hadn't a chance.

Starting point is 00:16:34 He crawled around in my hand so naively sniffing and curious, At least his death was quick and facile. The panic, the fury overlapping me. I leaned back so slowly and threw him harder than a pitcher trying to strike out the batter. Ziggy lay in a heap on the ground. His body frozen and corrupted from the incident. His black beads for eyes staying so still in his little wiry whiskers flickering like the sound of an old projector shortly after the film had concluded. twitching like sensitive eyes to an unexpected set of siren lights.

Starting point is 00:17:11 I put him out of his misery, though, the same way a careless smoker rubs their cigarette butt dry into the ground. Little helpless bones snapped and split under the force of my black boot. All reserve in explaining the blood, it was gruesome, to say the least. Sandra's beloved hamster ziggie remained glossy dead. and soaked in blood in the room below. The last feeling I want Sandra to think of me are misunderstanding and confusion. Not that I am a monster.

Starting point is 00:17:48 Diary entry number five, Thursday, depending on whose perspective you were viewing it from. Shaving this morning after a sleepless night was either an ill-informed decision or a controversial stroke of luck. I lay in bed all night screaming to the impossible possibility that my sanity is crippled and common sense has shattered into tens of sharp piercing little pieces. If Krakowski could only see me fall apart like this, he would pick up one of those pieces and slowly steer it into the side of my forehead like a steady twisting screwdriver. Speaking of injuries anyway, my shaking hand slipped during my shave today, scraping through the delicate skin between my jaw and my throat. Red, bloody blobs dotted on my white shirt and my white collar. Oh, it's staying at first, and it came as a shock to me as I'm usually cautious going through this regular routine.

Starting point is 00:19:01 It was a pretty deep cut, but it was distracting me from the inner and anguish that floated freely around inside my head, like carousel horses. Those drivels of blood sliding my neck whilst I shut my eyes and allowed my dizzy self to drift happily in circles around my head. It was like easing into a batch of morphine, and the release itself was almost arousing. At first I was a little uncomfortable, but if this is a bit of myrifice, but if this is what humanity has created for me, then so be it. Even writing about it now, I'm gleefully reestablishing the experience and forgetting about all

Starting point is 00:19:45 of the shit I will encounter in the next few days. I received two expected packages from VAC in the post today. One box contained Bluetooth-operated CCTV cameras and USB devices for security, and monitoring for both outside and the white room. While the other contained needles in a large, bubbly, like, plastic package, which contained a chemical that you could tell was hazardous just on the basis that it was clearer than water and as temperately lukewarm as healthy flesh.

Starting point is 00:20:22 The setup was pretty standard, and aside from the odd flicker or a flash of line every few minutes or so, the quality of the cameras exceeded my expectations. As effective as they are, though, video quality has minuscule wealth to me at the moment. The thought that these CCTV footage will be on all day and night for the next few years is honestly goddamn terrifying to me. In an age where technology's influence is exceeding too rapidly and nobody seems to care, this generates a huge concern for me, that machines are one day going to see more than we can. can and already observe events at times when we cannot.

Starting point is 00:21:08 Maybe staying up the whole night was a good idea. What if Fyaci had me wired right now, and I just vulnerably allowed everything they sent me into my house. What if they're testing me? To see if I will comply with their demands and slavishly carry out their dirty work. If my family are going to die, they are not going to die by the hands of Fiasi,

Starting point is 00:21:31 but I'm still left in a tough situation. If I don't do it, I die, and I don't know what even more horrible act they will carry out on my family. If I do, I survive. But fuck knows what happens to them if they're going to be locked up for three years. All I can hope is that they will carry on through this ordeal, and they will never have to see me ever again. I can live isolated, away someone.

Starting point is 00:22:01 where I am no threat to society, or maybe I could just travel over to the Fiasi headquarters and blow all their fucking evil heads off. I punched a hole in my wall with tears in my eyes. I told myself only two days ago that I would never own a gun. I'm getting stressed again. Dark hail clouds shroud my thoughts, and I'm getting stressed again. The bandage patch on my nose. neck is getting itchy and I'm getting stressed again. I looked in the mirror at my sleepless face

Starting point is 00:22:39 again. The crusty healing wound was speckled with blood like dust and I was getting stressed again. I think I'll just take one more slice at it. Good thing those needles are right on my bedside locker. That felt great. I think I'll do the other arm now. Too much blood on the floor, but I can't call an ambulance because maybe I'm paranoid now. Should I get that gun sometime? I think I will. Diary Entry 6. Friday.

Starting point is 00:23:26 I look terrible. There's a giant scar on my jaw and several little scars in my upper left arm from where I got carried away last night. This is the first entry that I've written during this daytime, and judging from the brightness outside for this time of year, I would say it's around 1,500. I checked the clock downstairs just now, and it's 1521. I literally just awoke 20 minutes ago, and I feel really dizzy. I passed out after a strenuous period of heavy blood loss. It's a good thing I had fainted when I did, or else there was the ostensible chance. that I would have traveled further south in the great scraping stress train.

Starting point is 00:24:15 How would I explain the scars to my wife? I'm not sure. I guess I'll have to make up some irrational excuse for the gaping crack on my jaw and hide the little reminders under a thick jumper. Actually, memory refreshed, I still have to clean up Ziggy's remains. The blood had dried on the wall. wall, and it took strained elbow grease, which was in limited supply thanks to my little episode last night to remove it.

Starting point is 00:24:48 I then mopped and scrubbed the floor, tossed Ziggy into the bin. I thought I would be more mentally affected by the actions I had carried out on Wednesday, but honestly I feel like I am immune to dastardly performances at this stage. It was times like these that I wish I had kept in touch with Tim a lot more. The one person back in my youthful days who actually cared for the interests that I ranted on about, who listened and showed interest for the experiments and psychology theories I had idolized when I was in my early 20s. During my secondary school days, I had stood up for him a lot, and I really helped him fit into the social groups.

Starting point is 00:25:34 He would have never had a chance to become comfortable in if it weren't for my guidance. and if it weren't for my assistance. Well, now, I really needed him. But he's way too busy with his current low-paying health and safety internship in which he will rake the financial benefits of greatly in a few years' time. I just can't help but feel that if I still had Tim to talk to in my life right now, that this problem would have been solved a long, long, long time ago. But then again, Faisi have never.

Starting point is 00:26:09 never really taken no for an answer that much in the past, especially to someone who has shown so much loyalty as I have towards them. Regardless, I want to be able to share this problem with him, but we haven't spoken in over a year, and it's just too late now. Rather than him just waltzing down here and saying, how'd he do to me? You would need to plan his journey and set a time when he was free and not working? I would feel like I'm intruding. which is extremely obscure of me to say because he always had the time for me back in the day.

Starting point is 00:26:45 I still remember to this day that that moment I came up to him in the line for the vending machine and asked him, would you be willing to skip to the front of the queue right now if you knew there was only one Mars part left? And I asked that to anyone else. They most likely would have turned around and giving me a horrendous look. Tim? Tim was different. He had a sort of rome.

Starting point is 00:27:09 restrained respect for everyone, despite had they made him feel uncomfortable or uneasy, respect, patience, passiveness, these were his most appreciated virtues and qualities that sometimes got annoying if you were around them for too long, but traits you miss if you hadn't experienced for a long time. Now, although there was a 99.9% chance of it not happening, I wish that you, you would just come and rescue me from this ever so daunting nightmare that I'm in. Like a whirlpool of black, molten, hot tar. A few days ago, I had talked about how the development of humanity

Starting point is 00:27:53 had some crazy and disturbing effects when you think about them for an extended period of time. In this case, however, my mind struggles to think of a disadvantage when it came to the life policies that my good old friend Tim had. He would die before letting anything happen to his family. Now my family, speaking of, they get back tonight. I wonder how they'll react when they see the steel doors. Final diary entry, Saturday, screaming. Lots and lots and lots of endless screaming.

Starting point is 00:28:40 Emily is going to shred her vocal cords if she doesn't give it a rest soon. The walls are soundproof, though, so her valiant efforts are going so sadly unrewarded. You would think that this hostile reaction would provoke me to let them out, but no, not really. It just kind of irritates me to be perfectly honest. The children are huddled up to her for support. They're frightened out of their wits, and Emily is really not helping the situation. I muted the volume on the screen, so now it just looks like black and white footage, like lost footage from an old abandoned laboratory or something like that.

Starting point is 00:29:28 Anyway, this is the last time that I'm going to be writing in this diary, as the rest of my research will be going into separate books that I will constantly be submitting and updating to the FACAC Corporation. The research should contain nothing personal or biased and must be strictly fact-based. Every single day is to be recorded on these tapes and special notes and hypotheses will be kept in a folder labeled

Starting point is 00:29:56 excerpt, starving, dogs. At request, however, one of my fellow colleagues asked me to scribble down one excerpt for her and keep it in the folder as part of my research. search. They want a very minimal study done on the captor himself, as they deemed it unnecessary for some odd reason. They see it as irrelevant. Anyway, I decided to rewrite this one on a separate piece of small paper and stored in the folder. New memories, old memories replaced with the former of results, discoveries, and observations. Day and night surveillance from my office,

Starting point is 00:30:38 as they hopefully slowly settle into their new habitat. At first, humanity will take full throttle, and there will be confusion, angst, and suffering. That will wither and die as nature should rear its monstrously ugly, yet beautifully ambitious head, and create the scenarios that I will be scribbling notes on and reporting back to Fiasi. As for this diary, well, it has a new sentimental value to me now.

Starting point is 00:31:15 I'm going to keep it locked up in the cabinet above. One day, one day I plan to go back over it and read my thoughts on the week leading up to what could be a very important breakthrough experiment of my psychology career. Is it unorthodox? Most definitely. is it ambitious we shall wait and see but for the moment

Starting point is 00:31:43 god damn it Emily is still screaming she won't stop screaming please Emily

Starting point is 00:31:55 just stop screaming that was the final entry to the diary the diary that was filled out over the week of these horrifying events. I guess to close out this recording, I will say once again, I am Dr. Karras. I'm here in the police studio recording this diary for this murder suicide. The final note, location of diary.

Starting point is 00:32:23 This diary was found upstairs on the floor just beneath the suicide victim. Closing out.

As The Raven Dreams Podcast - "Starving Dogs" By CrashingCymbal | Nevermore Storytime | Creepypasta

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