As The Raven Dreams Podcast - Through A Doll's Eyes by Jonathan Nelson| #CreepyPasta

Episode Date: September 18, 2021

All day and all night, I sit and watch myself in the mirror. I don't know how long I've sat here, but I can feel that today, something is different.  Want YOUR Story Featured In A Video On This Channel? Send It My Way! Direct ➤ https://www.astheravendreams.com/submit  Subreddit ➤ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream  Email ➤ [e-mail] Get Up to 24 hour EARLY ACCESS to my content, Your name in my videos, various other perks and even FREE ATRD Swag, all while supporting the channel! Join My Patreon, or Channel Memberships for as little as $1 a MONTH!   Patreon ➤ https://patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams Memberships ➤ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkW0ihdMHfBUjQrMKjRto6g/join ⋆——⋆★⋆——⋆ ⦕TIMESTAMPS/CREDIT⦖ 0:00 ➤ Hit That 👍 Button if you like the video! 0:11 ➤ Through A Doll's Eyes by Jonathan Nelson 23:59 ➤ Leave A Comment, Let Me Know What You Thought!   ➤ The PT Cruiser is technically a truck. Chrysler specifically designed it to fit the criteria of a light truck in order to bring the average fuel efficiency of the company’s light truck fleet into compliance with standards. ⋆——⋆★⋆——⋆ ⦕LEGAL DISCLAIMERS⦖ ➤All stories within are used w/ Either 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!  ➤If you need to contact me for Business purposes, please contact me at [e-mail] and indicate that the email is for business.  ➤All videos come with a content warning for language, potentially triggering situations, and disturbing content. Viewer Discretion is ALWAYS advised... I do scary stories- it's not all rainbows and daisies around these parts.  #TrueScaryStories #AsTheRavenDreams #Creepypastas Be sure to *subscribe* if you like any of the following; Glitch In The Matrix Stories, Creepy Encounter Stories, Deepweb horror stories, Darkweb Stories, Reddit scary stories, True Scary Stories, Creepypasta, Reddit ghost stories, Or really anything- my channel is pretty diverse. --- 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

Today's story is Through a Doll's Eyes by Jonathan Nelson. Sounds. Light. What is this? How long have I been awake? The lounging room is so familiar, but I can't recall when I first laid eyes on it. I try to remember the days before my consciousness, but I find it is simply impossible. If there is a greater being who control it. the movement of time, you surely forgotten little old me in this empty house.

The lounging room is either light or dark. I do not know how long it remains in either state. I simply sit here and stare at the wall. Any idea of year or hour is more than my brain can think of, if I have one. I may not see what's inside me, but I know what I look like on the outside because of the mirror opposite the couch that I sit on. My features are rounded, like a plump tomato.

With skins so shiny, the sun blocks my face in the mirror at certain times the day. My eyes are blue, full of extravagant detail. I know the lids around them will shut if I lay down, so I admire them for as long as I can until the day may come when someone might knock me over. over, and I'll be trapped in darkness, never to see my wonderful eyes again. My bonnet is dark purple, with a lovely stitched dress of the same color scheme. A pretty little bow is tied under my chin, keeping the bonnet in place. On my feet are elegant shoes, black like my curled hair.

Whoever made me must be a truly gifted person. and they created a perfect doll, full of charm and modesty. I am truly pretty. Pretty, what is so familiar about that word? I know it well. I've referred to myself with it many times, but it reminds me of something else. A word.

Yes, but more than a word, a name. Smitty. The Smitties. The owners of this home. My family. How could I have forgotten? They were here. Living, breathing,

cooking and dancing, talking and laughing. There was Mama, Smitty, Papa Smitty, mean brother Ezekiel, and my best friend in the whole world, Prudence. She was here. I know it. They all were.

I know that I had a past with them, and I know they all loved me very much, except for Ezekiel. Why did he hate me? Why can't I remember the details? Prudence meant the world to me, but I can't seem to fully remember her. There's flashes of memory, glimpses into the past, but that's all I can conjure up in my mind. I will sit on this couch and think on it some more. I want more than anything to remember my friend, but I understand it will take time.

I don't mind. Time is all I have. I will remember my friend no matter how long it takes. When my memories of prudence finally come to me, the lounging room has been overrun with intruding plants. I watched as they slowly crept up through the, cracks in the floor and took the room by force. Above the mirror is a shelf which sits a stack of books and a statue of the head of a man

I do not know. These were now surrounded by vines, threatened to be closed off from my sight. It makes me sad to see these things go, but I could live without them. It's not as if I could read, and I truly don't care who the man was. All that matters now is pretty little me in my mirror. I recently remembered my friend Prudence. She looked like me, plump features and dark hair. I remember her smile would warm my heart and the heart of her family.

When I was given to Prudence, she was only a little child. She couldn't speak, but I knew what she was thinking. I knew that she loved me. We grew up together as best friends, as sisters. She talked to me all the time, sharing everything that she knew and felt. When she cried, I cried with her. When she laughed, I howled. I felt everything that she could.

Joy, sadness, fear, anger, all of the emotions. I wanted so desperately to display them before her, but All I could do was stare, with the same expression that I've made my whole life. Did she know how much I cared for her? She couldn't have. I was only a doll. Is that why she left me? No, don't say that.

Prudence would never let me go. When the smithies packed up to leave once, Prudence cried that she couldn't take me. They returned not long after, and the first thing she did was rush into her room and embrace me in her arms. Aside from that, she took me everywhere. I liked it when she took me outside and placed me in the basket on her bicycle. We would ride down the road,

wind racing through our hair, making my bonnet flail around. We'd arrive in the town and she would park her bike against a building and take me into the square. We would meet her other friends who brought their own dolls, We'd play hopscotch on the road.

Sometimes the nearby bakers would give us pastries for no other reason than we made them smile. I loved her friends almost as much as I loved Prudence. There was Mary, Clarice, Bernadette, and Veronica, and their lovely dolls named Joan, Little Clarice, Betsy, and Ethel. I do not know if they were alive like I am now. If they are, are they, too, missing their girls? I think about the dolls and the friends from time to time, but I mainly focus on Prudence. Prudence's brother, Azechel also had friends.

I do not know their names, but they were as wicked as him. One time, when Prudence was in the dining room and I lay on her bed, Ezekiel and his friends snuck into her room and quietly snatched me away. I was terrified as they brought me down the hall. I wanted to cry out and call for Prudence to come and rescue me, but alas, I'm only a doll. They took me upstairs into Ezekiel's room, and they tied a rope to my leg and dropped me out the window. I would have surely broken into pieces if I had hit the ground, but I was suspended. Ezekiel held the other end of the rope, keeping me from touching the ground.

He began pulling me up towards the window. Hey, Prudence! Azechial shouted. Your dolls learned to fly. I saw Prudence rush out of the house. She screamed when she saw me. Give her back! She shouted as she tried to grab me.

Ezekiel and his friends laughed as he tugged me up and down, just out of Prudence's reach. Prudence rushed inside and I heard her call for Mama. The boys quickly pulled me back into the house and untied the rope. Next thing I knew, I was back in Prudence's. Prudence's room and they were nowhere to be seen. I heard their voices somewhere in the house, and I heard my sweet Prudence crying. Mama Smitty comfort her and scolded Ezekiel and his friends.

I had almost died that day. It was terrifying. In that moment, I made a promise that I would never leave Prudence. We would grow together, and she would protect me, and I would make her smile every day, but now, I find myself alone, without my best friend, and the fear that I felt that day comes back. More time has passed since I finally remembered Prudence. I don't know how long it's been, but the books and the man's head on the shelf are now trapped in an unrecognizable tangle of green. The plant life has begun creeping up the couch, threatening to engulf me.

I hear a new sound. Something other than the usual wind and the chirping of birds. It's... It's a familiar sound. I've not heard in a long time. Footsteps. Could it be Prudence? Did she escape whoever took her away and come back for me?

My mind races with excitement as the footsteps grow louder. Prudence, it's me. I've waited for you for so long. Now we can be together. It's not Prudence. It's a young man that I've never seen before. He carries some sort of pack on his back, containing contents that I'm not sure of. He sets the pack on the ground and kneels down and opens it.

He glances around the room, freezing when he sees me. I hear him say a series of dreadful words that only Mama and Papa Smitty have said. He gets up and walks towards me. He towers over me and I'm afraid. He crouches down and now we look each other face to face. He makes a face that I could only read as negative. How could he look at me that way? Did he not see how beautiful I was with my rosy, rounded cheeks and my beautiful, curled hair?

I was upset when he walked into the room and wasn't prudence, but now I'm annoyed at his unpleasant mannerisms. He walks back to his pack and draws some sort of canister out of it. He shakes it a couple of times and brings it to a wall. I'm completely horrified as he begins spraying purple mist out of the canister and onto the wall. What was he doing? He's ruining the Smitty's home. I try to scream, shout, do anything to get his attention, but it's hopeless. He draws more canisters from his pack and starts spraying colored designs in the walls of the house.

The beautiful scenery that I've looked at for so long is now gone, replaced by colorful vulgarious. and I'm more than upset now. I'm angry. I'm furious. And just when I think I couldn't get any worse, he does the unthinkable. My mirror, my beautiful mirror that I've gazed into for what must have been years, was destroyed in an instant, covered in orange spray. I could not see my pretty dark purple bonnet anymore or my detailed blue eyes. All that I've hung on to for so long was gone. Inside I'm crying tears of hate, but on the outside I stare as if nothing had happened.

He walks up to me once again and lifts me up. I have to do something. I must do something. I see Ezekiel once more grinning at me with that evil smile as he and his friends torture me and make my sweet prudence cry. In a moment of pure hatred, and anguish. I reach out my arm and I hit the stranger's nose.

His smile drops, and he stares at me. First, in confusion, then in fear. He drops me back onto the couch and I fall over. My eyes shut and I'm in darkness. Oh, no. Not this. Please don't leave me like this. I hear him run out of the room with quick, panicked breath.

I'm alone again, but this time with nothing to look at. Prudence, help me. My eyelids won't move. I'm trapped in darkness. My mirror is gone, and the pretty little room is ruined. I moved by myself just a second ago, but I can't muster this ability again. This is it. This is what I spent years on end, dreading, not even.

in the light of day where my house can keep me company. I am swallowed by the dark. For an eternity, I lay there in complete darkness. Ever since that day, my eyes shut, I've been trying to move again. I do not know how I was able to touch his nose that day. It just happened. If I moved once, I can move again. I've told myself to move over and over again.

I've tried to force my limbs to do something, anything, and then it happened. First, it was a jolt from my hands, a slight, little movement. Then, what must have been years later, it was a much larger swing of my arm. I now pushed myself up from my laying position, working both arms and legs. I stumble back onto my side, but it doesn't matter how many times I've failed. I spent too long making myself move to give up now. I try and try again, falling back each time, trying new methods,

finally figuring out the right motion. I'm overcome with joy as my eyes slide open. I had forgotten what the morning light looked like. So beautiful. I'm now sitting upwards in the couch. I stare across the room at the mirror, the orange spray has settled. My poor mirror is

truly gone. I find that I can turn my head as well. I'm now truly in control of myself. I am more than a doll. Perhaps I am now human. I glanced down at my pretty

dress only to find a horrid bug crawling on me, eating away at my clothes. I feel that same anger I felt the first time that I moved. How dare that intruder or bug or anyone come into the smitty's home and ruin it. In a sudden movement, I raised my hand and bring it down on the bug. It was a slow swing, but my unmoving fingers moved on top of the insect before it could move away.

I pushed my hand down slowly, killing it. After an eternity of misfortune, I finally found satisfaction. The bug was ruining my dress. It deserved to die. I bring my hand away and the bug's flattened corpse is stuck to my palm. I get off the couch falling face down on the ground. My eyes shut once more. I remember how I got up from the couch and I used the same tactic to get on my feet.

I stand for the first time in my life. Not with prudence holding me up. or propping me against a wall. This is a real stand. Just my feet on the floor and nothing else. I take a step, stumble, and fall. I get back up and try again. The sun rose and fell many times before I began walking normally.

When I could take a step without tripping, I decided it was time to find prudence myself. I'm struck with nostalgia as I wander through the Smitty's house. Everything was just as I remembered it, but less alive. I could barely see what is ahead of me as I walk through the dark hallway that used to grow with electric bulbs. I turned to the left and walk into the lavatory to begin my search. I will search the house for clues. I can't remember exactly when the Smitties disappeared.

they were with me and then they were gone. There must be something here that can tell me where they went. The lavatory is untouched, aside from the cobwebs surrounding the corners of the ceiling. I look up at the counter, noticing a mirror picking up from its edge. I have to get up there. If there's no clues to be found on top of the counter, I will at least get to see my pretty face again. I crawl up onto the toilet seat just barely holding on as I squirm to get on top. I managed to stand up on the seat and then climb onto the tank lid.

From there, I move with ease onto the counter, tumbling into the sink. I take a moment to look at my surroundings. The countertop was barren just as I had thought. I stand up and I look at myself in the mirror for the first time and forever. I gasp when I see myself. My face. My poor face was forming small cracks over my cheeks. I held them in my hands, ashamed to even look at them.

When I find prudence, I know she'll find a way to fix it. She always made things better. The next few rooms brought back plenty of old memories, but none of them were able to give me a clue. as to the whereabouts of Prudence in her family. The last of the rooms was Prudences. I feel a lingering sense of happiness as I step inside. It was old and abandoned just like the rest of the house,

but I loved it just as I always had. Everything seemed untouched since I last saw it. The T-set that she and I played with still sat on her little table near the bed. I crawl up on her chair to get a closer look. Look, when I get on top, I see her. Prudence. A photograph of my best friend sits on the table, staring me in the face. She had the same rosy smile that I knew and loved, and in her arms was me.

I feel a wave of sadness and jealousy wash over me as I look at my old self. It was shiny and new, with an uncracked face, an unwrinkled clothing with no way. holes. When I find prudence, she will give me a new dress and seal off the cracks on my skin and coat it in a new, shiny paint. I leave the room, finding nothing of significance to the family's whereabouts. I had searched every room on the first floor. All I had left were the ones upstairs. I travel up the staircase, carefully crawling onto each step. If I slide and tumble down the stairs, my head would surely crack open. I don't know what would happen to me then, but I'm sure it would prevent me from ever

seeing prudence. I reached the top of the stairs and looked down the hallway. There are only four rooms up here, but one of them caught my attention. Unlike the rest of the rooms, the one on the far end of the hall was closed. I remember the room as Mama and Papa Smitty's bedroom. I wander towards it, wondering if I'd be able to reach the handle. I can't. I'm simply too short.

I look in the other rooms for something I could stand on. I come across the stepstool in the second floor bathroom. I awkwardly get my stubby arms around it and drag it out of the bathroom, into the hallway and against the far door. I step up on it and just barely reach the doorknob. With some struggling, I'm able to turn it. I push on the door, and it opens. The carpet was a different color than when I last remembered. It was a faded brown, almost red.

The same color seemed to be soaked into the bed sheets. Something must be on the Smitty's bed. I have to know what. I approach the bed and try to get a hold of the sheets. It's impossible. My fingers barely move and it's simply too tall to pull myself up on. I turn around and grab my stool when I freeze. Behind the swung door was Papa Smitty.

His clothes were dyed the same color as the bed and the rugs. As I approach him, I notice he's not the same Papa Smitty that I knew. His skin was grayish and tight and he was unmoving. I touched his arm, but he had no reaction. I didn't understand it, but I knew that something was wrong. I began fearing for the worst as I hurried to my stepstool. I bring it to the foot of the bed and climb on top. I stare at the top of the bed.

Three familiar figures lay there. Their faces are almost unrecognizable, but I recognize their clothing. Sprawled out on the bed was Mama Smitty, mean brother Ezekiel and Prudence My sweet Prudence I crawl across the bed to her

They were all like Papa Smitty Gray and still For the first time in my life I understood what it felt like to be a human Looking at a doll Prudence's once beautiful blue eyes Were now faded and coloured I reach over and I close her eyelids.

My poor prudence must have lost herself without me, but I will fix her. I lay down next to her, curling up in her arm. We won't be separated again. My sweet prudence. We'll be together for the rest of eternity. So that was through a doll's eyes by Jonathan Nelson. and Jonathan, huge thank you to you for sending me this story. This was a really, really well-written one, and very, very interesting.

Loved the perspective. Loved the ending, which was a bit unexpected. And I loved the ambiguity that exists within this story. The exploration of the unknown, and the story kind of ends with us still not really knowing what exactly happens. So huge thank you again, Jonathan. Great story. Hope you all enjoyed it.

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