As The Raven Dreams Podcast - True Scary Stories Collection - Was I Visited By Aliens? (Vol. 01)

Episode Date: March 11, 2021

True Scary Stories is a new series for the channel, that is a grab-bag of different types of scary and true stories! This collection includes creepy paranormal stories, creepy encounters, and also some possible alien encounters! All stories are written by lovely people like you! ✯✬✯✬✯✬ 【TIMESTAMPS 🕠】 0:00 ➤ Hit That 👍 Button To Support The Channel! 0:08 ➤ Story 1 by IssacsReality ➤  14:48 ➤ Story 2 by knifetic ➤ 23:44 ➤ Story 3 by somegirlfromsask ➤ 29:44 ➤ Story 4 by Zaiah_Stranger ➤ 35:11 ➤ Story 5 by phari38 ➤ 38:44 ➤ Story 6 by moonstone-stardust ➤ 43:15 ➤ Leave A Comment, Let Me Know What You Thought! ➤  ➤ Penguins can jump as high as 6 feet in the air. ✯✬✯✬✯✬ 【Disclaimer】 ➤All stories within are used w/ either explicit permission from the author- or under some level of CC license (where noted) #TrueStories #Reddit #AsTheRavenDreams Be sure to *subscribe* if you like any of the following; Glitch In The Matrix Stories - Deep Web Horror Stories - Cryptid Encounter Stories - Creepy Encounter Stories - Let's Not Meet Stories - Stalker Stories - Reddit Ghost Stories - Scary Horror Stories - Creepypasta - Missing 411 Stories - Backwoods Horror Stories - Dark web Horror Stories - True Scary Stories --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/support Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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and we still don't know the rules. Don't miss what the movie blog calls something you need to watch. Saving those children is how we all go home. From Binge All Episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. This is a story from about 14 years ago. I was 8 years old at the time, and I'm now 22. When I was 8 years old, my mom and dad were split,

so I would stay at my moms on the weekend in the city of Wilmington, California. My dad lived in Torrance, which wasn't too far away, however. The times I would get to see my mom were very minimal, meaning I would only see her a couple of days out of the month. For those who don't know, Wilmington, California used to be a holding point for soldiers back in the American Civil War. The drum barracks are still there to this day. However, now, it's a city full of gang violence.

At the time, when I used to be there with my mom, the gang activity was pretty high, but it has gone down just a little bit now. Well, the gangs are still around today, and it's still a relatively unsafe neighborhood to walk through at night, but it has its good days. It has car shows and the Wilmington parades, but to be real, the city has a pretty messed up past of murders, suicides and kidnappings. But some of the most messed up experiences I've had happened to my grandmother's house, which was where my mom was living at the time. So with all that being said,

here's the story. My grandmother lived on the street Hyatt Avenue, which is a street owned by one of the gangs and is also right next to the train tracks. Wilmington's neighborhoods consist of a front house, house and a backhouse in most parts. My grandmother lived in the front house, and we had an old friend who lived in the back named Gilbert.

Across the street, I had a friend who I'll call Jose. Jose was just a couple years older than me, and I would divide him over to my house so we could hang out and play with the plastic guns that the street vendor would bring. We'd mostly hang out in the back parking lot, which divided my grandmother's house and Gilbert's house, and was relatively good-sized for two kids to play in. One day, Jose came up with the brilliant idea for both of us to go play near the train tracks. Keep in mind, these train tracks are in a pretty big area, and there's a lot of dirt that surrounds them, so for us to get hit by a train, we would have to be standing obviously on the tracks.

But there was just enough area around them for us to play. On this particular day, Gilbert wasn't home, so we snuck behind his house through a hole in the fence, which led straight to the train tracks. Once we were there, we decided to walk a little further down the train tracks and talk about the shootings we've heard and how we thought one of our neighbors was in the gang. At this particular time, I distinctly remember Jose telling me that he would be down to shoot back at anybody. who shot at his house if he had a gun. Before he could say anything else, I stopped him in the middle of his ongoing and pointed at a memorial site,

which I assumed was a fallen gang member. He looked at it in awe and proceeded to move closer to it. The mural had a picture of the man with bandanas tied on the fence surrounding the portrait, with the folded bandana and clothing right in the middle of it, surrounded by candles. I asked him, What the hell are you doing?

Because he started digging through the clothing and the bandana. As he scuffled through, he stopped as I watched his eyes go big and look at me with a shocked face. I asked him, what is it? And he pulls out a small snub-nosed revolver. It had been wrapped inside the bandana on top of the clothing. I said, holy crap, and I looked at it in amazement. The revolver was emptied.

He started laughing and pointing it around, pulling the trigger, and all I can remember is hearing the clicking coming from this revolver. It was almost as if this kid prayed for a gun, and it manifested into his hands. Because guns seemed to be something that amazed him, after what seemed like forever being on those train tracks, we started to head back. Before we proceeded, I asked him, Dude, are you going to put the gun back? Without even thinking twice, Jose says, Hell no, I'm taking this home. I didn't even want to argue with him.

I just wanted to get back home. There was something off about the train tracks that day, and it felt even worse after we saw that mural. Of course, at the time, I thought nothing of it because I was only eight. But now that I remember, I can definitely feel it to this day. Once we got back to the spot that we entered through, Joe stuffed the revolver into his shorts and told me he was going to go home and take a nap.

I said okay and just decided to go back into my grandmas to play with my Legos. Before I proceed with the story, let me give you a layout of my grandmother's house. When you enter through the front door, you are already standing in the living room. To your left is my grandmother's room and forward is. is the kitchen, leading to the back hallway. When you enter the back hallway, to the front of you is the back door, to the left of you is the vanity area, and the restroom. Once you're in the vanity area, to the left of you is the second bedroom.

And when you enter that bedroom, to your right is a small hallway, leading to the last bedroom, which was my mother's. Fast forward to around 9.30 p.m., I'm already really tired and decided that I wanted to, to go to sleep. And I pack up all of my toys and go straight to my mother's room to fall asleep. Fast forward, it's about 1.30 a.m. And I woke up for no apparent reason.

There was this ringing in my ears that would not go away. And there was a very unsettling feeling in my room. I tried to wake up my mom thinking I had a nightmare, but she wouldn't even budge. I decided that, since I'm already awake, to go into the kitchen and grab me a jello, I really wish I wasn't a stupid-ass kid. I should have decided to go close my eyes and go back to sleep. When I walked into the kitchen, all I could see was the silhouette of a huge man standing in the kitchen, just staring in my direction. I stood there in shock. I honestly don't remember if I peed myself or not.

Also, I could remember thinking. to myself, is why the hell did this person decide to target our house for a home invasion? After standing there for what seemed like hours, the man started breathing very heavily, as if he was really angry. I turned around and I ran straight back to my mom's room, trying to shake her awake, and she would not wake up. I'm thinking, maybe I'm in a nightmare right now. Maybe I'm still asleep, and this is just, is just a really bad dream. How the hell is my mom not waking up to this?

How was my grandma not waking up to this? I remember my mom having a really big flashlight in the room, so I grabbed it and decided to go back into the kitchen and hold this big-ass flashlight like a baseball bat, ready to mess somebody up for breaking into my house. Yeah, I was a dumb-ass kid. Before I could enter the vanity area, I got stopped in my tracks.

This big guy, he was in the second bedroom just standing there. I screamed so loud, I'm surprised that the neighbors didn't hear it. I'm also surprised that, for some damn reason, my folks are still sleeping. I turned on the flashlight, and I could see this bastard's face, and what I saw still haunts me to this day. When I turned on the flashlight and shined it at his face, his legs, there was blood. Then, when I proceeded upwards towards his torso, there was so much blood.

I honestly don't know if that shirt was red, or if it was white and just stained. When I proceeded to his head, half of it was freaking missing. I could just remember a gurgling sound coming from his mouth. The top of his damn head was gone. Basically, all I could see was just chunks of skin and brain hanging off of his head. I honestly cannot think of any better description. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, though it was only a split second, I dropped the flashlight and ran straight to my mom.

I grabbed her and I shook her as hard as I could, screaming and crying, telling her that there was a man in danger, in our house, and she finally wakes up, pissed off at me for screaming. I told her that there was a man who was hurt and needed our help. She immediately got up and asked where he was. I told her he was in the second bedroom. When she walked in the second bedroom, there was nobody there. She proceeded to the kitchen, to the living room, and even my grandmother's room, and

still nobody. She checked the front doors, back doors. back doors, they were all locked, and even looked at the living room window which wasn't broken, because it had to have been for somebody to get in. Everything was locked and closed, like as if nobody ever touched it. I sat there in disbelief,

because I know for a fact I physically saw this man standing in our kitchen and in our second bedroom. I couldn't even say anything, as a matter of fact, I was crying, traumatized. It was so real and yet unreal at the same time. I can't explain the terror I felt because it was just insane. My mom came back in the room, not quite upset at me,

but she knew I was terrified, so she let me turn on the TV and watch one of my movies until I fell asleep. When I woke up the next day, I still couldn't shake the feeling of dread off of my shirt. shoulders. I was still kind of shaken up about it. I'm pretty sure that the man that was in my house that night was the spirit of the man whose mural was pretty much vandalized and stolen from, and he was not happy about that. From that day on, I never saw the spirit of that man again. I would only go on to see Jose maybe twice after that day, never again. I'm not even sure if he lives in that same house anymore. Years would go by and my mom would then move to East Los Angeles with my stepdad,

and my grandmother would proceed to live in Wilmington until she passed away just recently. I would then find out by my mom that the house had a really crappy history. The house had many deaths happen inside of it. My mom told me that before my grandmother moved in, a man died of a heart attack in the living room, and both of my uncles committed suicide in there as well. Both of my uncles shot themselves in the head. So I'm not sure if the spirit I saw was of the man at the mural,

or of one of my uncles. To be honest, either way, I don't want to know. I've never met either of those uncles, nor have I seen a picture of them. And to be honest, I can't remember the face of the man in the mural to match the face of the man in the house. Half of his head was missing, and it was basically unrecognizable. Telling the story to others has been met with great skepticism and a lot of crap talking between me and those I've told it to.

You don't have to believe the story as a matter of fact, and I wouldn't blame you because I'd probably react the same way if you were to tell me a story like this. It's 2021, and social media is huge, unfortunately. My friends follow these pages on Instagrams that show rival gang members kicking down candles of fallen enemies and disrespecting their murals. My advice, if you ever see a mural, whether it's of a gang member or someone who has died from an accident, just pay your respects and walk away, or you may have an incident like this happen. You may not believe in the paranormal now, but trust me, something will definitely shake your beliefs. My grandmother's house had a terrible past.

As a matter of fact, most of Wilmington does, but I'd like to consider my grandmother's house the horror house. I've seen a lot more of the things beside this in that house, and have experienced them firsthand. And fortunately, I'm not the only one. I'm sure many people who live around the city could tell you some of their horror stories in their houses, because I honestly think that every...

house in Wilmington is haunted. I have family who live all around the city, and they tell me that they have ghostly activity, friends even. And to be honest, I'm pretty rational when it comes to stories like this, though I believe every single one of them. My pal directed me to this subreddit the other day, and since then, I've become obsessed with reading about everyone's encounters. but even more so the conversations that come along with them.

It's incredible just how many strange experiences mark our lives. I'm sharing this little story because I think it's interesting. I still think about it and how I felt then, but also to see and hear if anyone else has had a similar thing happened to them before, where it may have been, whom with, and why. Last year around this time, I was shopping for holiday gifts around my university with my lifelong best friend. We're both in our early 20s. I was making a point to shop local that year, so we were trawling through a farmer's market that, despite being on my commute home every day,

I had only been to once prior. It is T-shaped. The main aisle is open through the week and includes, mostly small restaurants and farmer produce vendors, while the private cellar booths, mostly full of antiques, are perpendicular to it. Only the front of the antique building is open during the week. The back, which was dark and separated by a metal folding gate,

the only other time I'd been there, is open only on Saturdays and Sundays. Being that it was a Saturday, I was looking forward to getting to explore, it. I love digging through antique malls, collecting, etc. We make our way back where

the gate would have been separating it. To my surprise, the first couple booths were not well lit, especially in comparison to the back of the hallway that stretched further than I thought it did. The bulb in the main walkways above them were out, while

the insides were illuminated with weak, yellow, probably one bulb hanging in each. There was not a soul in sight, and it was pretty quiet, which I found a bit odd since the main section was fairly busy that day. The parking lot was full. Usually there's a vendor sitting there with their wares, but I never saw one. It appeared that this section took up four booths total, two on each side of the aisle. To preface this, I'm the kind of person that gets stressed out by hoarder-type settings,

so I immediately noticed the overwhelming, almost impossibly crowded booths. Big coats and old dresses hung from metal rods above each booth's entrance, jutting out into the walkway. It seemed like fiction, but at this point, I felt fine.

It wasn't abnormal for me to root through junk in places like these, and I was intrigued. I first went to my left, where there was a pile of tea towel, so large that the table they were on weren't visible, mostly souvenirs. I remember the Liberty Bell on one of them.

There were leather gloves dispersed in the pile as well, which I had been on the lookout for. I tried on a few, but none of them fit right. Directly to my back, there was a shelf of older glass cups, all filled to the brim with vintage scissors. Truly, an unimaginable amount of scissors. I wondered how anyone would ever come. come across that many.

The shelf, about as tall as me, and was packed with them. This was when the first pang went through me. I left that side where my friend was standing beside me, and went to the booth on my right. There was only just enough room for one person to

walk in. If my friend had followed behind me, we would have to walk out single file. I remember trying on more gloves that were sitting in a pulled-out bureau drawer, in a circular rack to my back with, again, an almost unimaginable amount of belts. I had made a joke to my friend who was still across the aisle that it felt like the beginning

of spirited away, like we were about to unintentionally walk into another world or something. The obscurity and magnitude of collections was so strange to me, and at this point, I'd realized that I'd never seen anything like it. I noticed the air then. It seemed almost heavy, smelling of stale, sweaty leather, like well-used shoes. The belts were stiff and dry-rodded. I remember touching one. It was then that I felt the weight of the air around me on my chest, this inexplicable dread and panic at my center.

Like I was swimming in its walking through something viscous. I do suffer from sea. PTSD. I don't scare easily, and this felt isolated from my typical anxieties. To this day, I'm sure that I have only ever experienced this feeling a handful of times. I'm sure you know what I mean. It was fight or flight. Triggered just like that. I had no logical reasons to be nervous, but my body was getting away from me. I wanted to be anywhere but there. I knew that I needed to leave. The aisle wasn't visible from the booth I was in, and as I walked out, I remember walking further down it to the next booth. This one on the left hand had an obscure collection of lampshades.

Some water-stained, some dry-rodded, and one that I vividly remember still being on a lamp. With little primary-colored clowns dancing on it in a circular pattern, the one on the right seemed to be more clothes, but my memory is fuzzy. I just remember looking for a person staffing it. It was then that, seemingly out of nowhere, a short and disheveled old woman came down the aisle with a squeaky little shopping cart. I don't know where the cart or the woman had come from, and as she slowly and quietly passed us,

my friend standing to my right, both of us towering over her, I saw that there were about three pieces of produce spread out in the cart. She looked over to us when she was directly at my left side, and simply asked if we had wanted to buy anything in her cart. My friend was silent, our eyes darting between each other and the woman. I finally, just politely declined, and I remember her lingering for a moment, walking past me then. Everything had felt so still, so isolated,

in what little time had passed since entering that hallway. I truly don't understand why I was drowning in that feeling. The best word to describe it would be dread. Such strong dread, but for what? As my friend and I walked further down the hallway and ducked in to another booth, I could feel it lifting. I could breathe again. I expressed how I felt and apologized for almost going off on my own,

but I, for some reason, desperately needed to. To my surprise, I realized that we were both experiencing that same gut feeling. I remember my friends saying, Thank God you talk to that woman. I don't know why, but I couldn't manage to say anything. I was completely frozen. I wouldn't find this encounter so creepy if I had been alone in this feeling. After all, being who I am, it's sometimes hard to trust what goes on in my mind.

It's that my friend felt it as well. and was absolutely dumbstruck when the lady almost materialized out of nowhere, and wasn't only shopping, but offered to sell us what little she had in the cart. We've made jokes about seeing a ghost, but I honestly don't know, and never will. Who was she? What kind of sinister energy was seeping out of those booths, packed to the gills with the strangest collections that I've ever seen? And were they actually hers?

Why was she trying to sell us, if that were the case? And if not, where was the owner? Lastly, I know what's silly to think of, but what would have happened to me if one of those sets of gloves fit and I'd try to buy them? It makes me almost start to believe in cursed items, I'll tell you. When I had just finished college, I was living in a one-bedroom townhouse slash split. I met a guy on plenty of fish, and... At that time, I wasn't exactly smart about my online digital footprint. Not like I've really changed, but at least now I'm not as ridiculous.

Anyways, he seemed like a decent guy. He was really good-looking and said he had a good job, nice teeth, don't judge me, and looked like he cared about his personal health. All things I would typically look for in a guy. I'm not a shallow human. But I like to be presentable if I'm with someone, and I would like them to care about being presentable in a business environment also. After about a week of chatting online, he agreed to meet. We met at a restaurant downtown, which was really far from where I lived.

When I got there, I noticed him standing at the door. We sat down to eat, and the evening went great. At the end of the date, we said by, and I got into him. my car and began to drive away. I realized right away that he was following me. Because of the distance to my house, I wasn't immediately scared because it's a big city. Maybe he would turn off on the freeway. He didn't. My exit was coming up and I decided not to take it. I kept driving. I circled the entire city on the freeway and he stayed right behind me. I was starting to panic a bit. So I decided to go to my friend's house instead of mine.

And when I pulled out the exit, I noticed that he didn't. So I had a little bit of a moment to breathe and decided, Okay, screw it, I'll just go home. I took the off-ramp back on to the freeway and began going back to my exit. I got home and showered and was getting ready for bed. And I started feeling dumb because, like, was that really him? Am I overreacting?

Do I ask him if he was following me? Like, just a number of things were racing through my overactive imagination. Or so I thought. I decided I was going to message him and just say, Had a good time tonight. And when I started typing, all of a sudden a message came through to my phone of a picture of my car outside my house. I nearly died.

My heart jumped out of my chest and I started shaking. I didn't know what to say. And he text me and says, Oh, I didn't know you lived across the street from me. I've met my neighbors, and not once have I ever met him. There's a huge apartment complex caddy corner to my townhouse, so maybe that's where he lived, I don't know. I popped up and went to look outside.

and there he was, just standing there, like he was waiting for me. I opened the door and he asked if he could come in, and if I still wanted to hang out. I told him that I was exhausted and that I would rather just crash out, as it had been a long day. The next morning, I woke up to go to work, and my windshield had been smashed. My car was keyed, my back two tires were slashed, and as I was noticing the dam, to my vehicle, the guy comes out of his car with two coffees and is like, huh, I thought I would surprise you with a morning coffee. So, again, I'm like freaked out.

I called the cops and reported the damages to my vehicle. This guy offered to drive me and something in my gut was like, don't get in that car. So I called my boss and told them the situation and explained I wasn't going to be there until after the police came. This guy just hung out the whole time, by the way. When the police finally got there, this guy was acting really suspicious. He walked away and it was like hiding on the other side of his car. I filed the report and the police basically said, well, help you have insurance, and we're on their way to leave.

They pulled around the corner and all I heard was the siren on the cop's lights turn on and the cops scream, freeze, put your hands in the air and get down on your knees. I look, and the cop has his gun drawn at this guy, and this dude's like on the ground and getting arrested. I spoke with the cop after he got into the back, and he explained he was wanted for stalking, breach of probation, assault with a deadly weapon, fraud, and aggravated sexual assault. I was shook. It took me a couple of days to get over the hypothetical.

hypothetical situations that could have happened. About a week later, I was on my way out the door to work and guess who was sitting in my driveway. We live in Canada, so essentially you're released on conditions until you go to jail. I told him I was late for work, but that I would call him when I was done working. I never went to work that day. I went and found a new apartment in another area of the city. I also changed my phone number and hired my friend's husband and his friend. to go pack my apartment up and move it to their place for a month, and then move it to my new

place, because I was so scared this dude would follow them while I was moving. So, that's my horror story of the first time that I used plenty of fish. Back in late 2014, around October and November, I was 18 years old. I was very much enjoying my new freedom from the confines of childhood. At the time, I had just gotten my... driver's license, and I drove a 1998 Chevy sports van. I did everything in this van, and because I had a hangout spot on wheels, I started making a lot of new friends. One night, when I went to go see some of my newfound friends, something happened that I cannot explain. It was late when I decided

to drive some odd 25 miles away to see my friends. Between my town and my town, and I was a lot of and their town, are just quiet, dark, country roads. Every once in a while, passing a driveway with a streetlight on the property. Ever since I was a kid, there had always been one road around the county that people liked to talk about. They called it Swamp Road. This road is located right past the local high school in the county closest to my town. The school is in the middle of nowhere, and it's just very easy. weary at night.

The road itself is dark and quiet, located right in the middle of a large patch of woods, so at night it's even more terrifying. As I pulled on to the road, I managed to keep my cool. This road is a commonly used shortcuts to where I was going, and I had no issue driving down it at the time. The road has several hills and then comes to an opening out of the woods, and then banks right and then banks left again before hitting more hills, and finally a stop sign.

As I was hitting the last hill before the opening, at the edge of the woods, my eyes locked on to a bright white sheet on the side of the road. It was so distractingly bright that I almost ran off the road. I ended up passing the white sheet and continuing forward, but I started to think about things. I've always been one to think about bags on the side of the road. What if it's money, or someone threw out a dog that didn't want or something worse? My curiosity got the best of me, and once I hit the stop sign,

I decided to turn back to see what it was. Right before the first turn, there's a small field entryway that I parked at. For some reason, I decided to turn off the headlights and shut the van off. I'm guessing it was my teen anyway. angst of not being afraid. The walk back to the edge of the woods was kind of longer. The only reason I didn't want to park closer, as because a car could potentially come over the hill and get freaked out and wreck

because the van being parked there. So I parked a little ways back and walked towards the edge of the woods. The moon was pretty bright, so it wasn't too scary. But once I got closer to the woods, some of the trees that were not quite dead yet covered up the light, making it nearly impossible to see. I pulled out my phone and I turned on the flashlight to see that the sheet was completely gone. Nothing was there.

My heart sank at first, but I just thought maybe it wasn't at this hill. Maybe it was the next hill up? So as I was walking up the hill to see if it was on the next, I heard a rustling in the woods. I didn't even get the time to think. I don't know if the sound was going away or coming towards me. All I remember was hearing something running fast in the woods, and it sounded like whatever it was,

was dragging something along the ground. I ran back to the van, started it, and I immediately got out of there. During the drive to my friends, I tried to tell myself that whatever I just witnessed was completely understandable and rational. Maybe it was a sheet full of trash and an animal had come and drug it away, and then got spooked when they heard me walking towards them and ran away. I got to the park that I usually picked my friends at, and I waited for

them to get there. I got out of the van to throw something away near the bathrooms when I saw little wet handprints on the rear and side of the van. I, no joke, was looking at dripping handprints on the windows of my van. There was no one in my van. I was the only one there. If maybe someone was trying to prank me back at Swamp Road, then how did the handprints stay wet through the whole drive to town? I was driving well over the speed limit because I was scared. To this day, this is the scariest thing that has ever happened to me.

It's the last weird thing that has happened to me, and there's nothing that I can think rationally. That could be the reason. The first time I had an encounter, I was probably around 12 or 13. I was standing in my bedroom, making my bed, when I felt someone standing outside of my room. I turned around to see what I can only describe as Zorro. Yeah, I know. He kind of swooshed his cape and ran down the stairs in front of my bedroom. It was the first time I had experienced something like that, and it almost scared my spirit out of my body.

It haunted me for a long time, but I eventually got over it. A few years later, I had just watched a horror movie and switched it off and was walking upstairs to my room with the movie still playing in my head. I opened my door, switched on the light, and almost died when I heard something move under the plastic wrap under my bed. It moved like lightning and then stopped. I jumped on the bed and waited for another sound. Nothing. A few days later, I realized it was a rat.

We found it dead in the bathroom next to my bedroom. See, not everything has to be paranormal, right? A few years, maybe, After that, I was asleep, maybe sound asleep. All I know is feeling uncomfortable, like I was being watched, and then waking up in the middle of the night to a huge spider-like mechanical creature in front of my face. It was red, had a bit of black and white on it, and I remember closing my eyes to convince myself that I was dreaming,

opening them again in hopes that what I was seeing would be gone, but it wasn't. Instead, it was slowly backing away, horizontally. For me, its legs still outstretched. I didn't blink, I didn't take my eyes off of it, until darkness consumed it. It still haunts me to this day, and I still don't know if it was real. I'm considering hypnosis to see if there is more to this. Then years later, in my twenties, in a whole different city altogether,

I was alone, downstairs, washing some dishes. A storm was starting and the wind was picking up. The clouds were starting to cover up the sky, and there were a few strikes of lightning every few minutes. After a few moments, I once again had that feeling that someone was behind me. I turned around, thinking my partner was about to scare me, knowing my fear of storms, only to see a thin, tall, shadowy figure standing in my life.

lounge in a strike of lightning before disappearing. I stood in shock, speechless for a minute, before convincing myself that I must have really wanted to see my partner, hence I saw a person. In later readings, I can confidently say that what I saw was a shadow person. Still, to date, I still these shadows moving along the corners of my eye. Sometimes they're frightening. Sometimes I try not to let them bother me. It's hard not to accept that I may have some sort of ability,

or I may just be crazy. To be followed is not a fun feeling, nor is it a pleasant one. Though it is strange enough that if you are to notice the strange actions of another person, it will stick out in your mind. Caution is only a normal thing for some, and it very well may have saved me. from I'm not entirely sure what. Back in the ancient days of 2019, before ye old plague,

I had a very surreal experience and creepy experience with an older couple in a parking lot of the closest local grocery store to my town, of about 3,000 or so people. Being from such a small area, it gets a lot of attention when someone dresses oddly, not necessarily in a bad way, but people notice. Being that I am a woman that shaves her head bald every week or so, that is something that gets a lot of attention. It's usually from little old ladies who are excited, and it's not uncommon for them to ask me if they could touch my head.

However, all of this started when an older man came up behind me and touched my head without asking. This has also happened before, it's kind of annoying, but it's not unheard of. However, in this case, his hands were completely drenched. We were standing near the bathroom, so I guessed he had come out of there. I told him not to do that and went in to the bathroom. First, strange happening aside, I dried off my head and come back out,

only to see that he was still standing there. He looked to be about 60 years. or something, with a big white beard, one of those fishing hats and these dirty-looking overalls. This was strange enough, but the first thing he says to me is, my wife used to have hair like that. Okay, so maybe this guy was just looking to reminisce about his wife and did not know how to talk to a young woman? At least, those are my thoughts. So, I said, how interesting, and went to get in line. Checkout goes through without any problems, and I put my three bags worth of groceries away,

only to see him pass by in the rearview mirror, where he started and paused for a little while before continuing. With all these red flags, I was a little hesitant to pull out right. away. So, I waited a few minutes, thinking, or rather hoping, that he would leave. Once it had been about five minutes, I pull out to get on my merry way. I'm just about to pull out when I see a big, blue van pull up behind me with Montana plates, with Mr. Creepy coveralls at the wheel. And there was a woman that looked to be about the same age sitting next to him. Okay, I'm officially fully freaked out, but just keep hoping that it's a coincidence.

I make my turn and I pull out. Now, something to know about the grocery store I live near, there's a kind of loop you can take if you know the area well enough. It works either right or left, and you can just keep taking that route around and around again. So that's exactly what I did. The first loop I did, he didn't seem to notice. Second loop, I took.

I checked the rear view and he looked a little annoyed. With third loop, he started getting aggressive and started to tailgate me. After this third loop, I kept going past that turn that I had taken and turned right into the police department. I saw him slow before he sped off towards the middle of nowhere. I did make a statement with the police, though, I never heard anything back after that encounter. So hopefully it was just a one-time encounter. I have a feeling that this was not the first time.

They've done something like this, though. So that my friends was a collection of true, scary stories. I think I'm going to start doing these mix-up collections a little more often. Kind of get some paranormal with some various creepy encounters with some ghost stories, just kind of mix it all up into an interesting bundle. Um, I want to do this because it does let me make longer videos, and sometimes I get stories that get left behind because they don't fit into my other collections. Sometimes I'll send out requests for stories on specific things like cryptids or UFOs, and I don't get a lot of response. So I end up with one or two stories that I can't make a video out of because it'll only be like five minutes.

So I think I'm going to go ahead and just keep doing these like grab bag collections, just true scary story collections. and if anyone wants to say anything about it, just pretend that I stole these from Joel, if you guys know who Joel is, because I probably did. Anyways, I hope you guys have a beautiful day. I hope you liked the video. If you did, hit that like button,

subscribe button, bell icon next to it. Support the channel by following me on my social media platforms or supporting over channel memberships or patrons. All members and patrons get early access to all my content. You can also support the channel by going to the website as the ravendreams.com, where I post all of my stories that I write. Fiction stories, that is.

Anyway, if you want to, please also leave me a comment, letting me know what your thoughts are on this collection of stories. If I should keep doing these and how you're doing on this beautiful day, I will see you on the next one. But until then, my friend, sleep well.