As The Raven Dreams Podcast - Videophile by ZugZuwang | #Creepypasta Narration

Episode Date: March 22, 2022

Through the lens of my camera, I see so much more than what you see. I see the truth... What Is a Creepypasta? A Creepypasta is a fire-side story, one told on a dark night, under the stars; the intentions are to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and keep you up at night. If you Enjoy Creepypasta, consider subscribing as I will post here frequently. On my main Channel, As The Raven Dreams, I do true scary stories multiple times a week, including; Deep Web Horror stories, Creepy Let's not meet stories, Stalker stories, Glitch in the matrix stories, and much more! Link to original story by ZugZuwang: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Videophile Send a Scary Story My Way! ➤ https://www.astheravendreams.com/submit  Or Post it to my Subreddit ➤ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream  Support The Channel For Early Access and more for just $1 a month! (Includes early access to all 3 channels!) Patreon ➤ https://patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams YT Membership ➤ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkW0ihdMHfBUjQrMKjRto6g/join Check Out My Merch Store ➤ https://atrd.shop [TimeStamps] 0:00 ➤ Hit That THUMBS UP Button if you like Today's Creepypasta! 0:01 ➤ Videophile by ZugZuwang 15:08 ➤ Leave A Comment, Let Me Know What You Thought!  ➤ In the Red Sea, giant moray eels have been observed hunting cooperatively with coral groupers. The grouper approaches an eel’s hiding place and shakes its head rapidly to indicate that it wants to hunt. The eel recognizes the signal and accompanies it on the hunt where they work in tandem.   The Story used today is utilized under FANDOM/CREEPYPASTA WIKI broad license ➤ https://www.fandom.com/licensing (All community content is licensed under CC-BY-SA UNLESS otherwise noted. This story/stories were not Otherwise noted at the time of this video.) License Info: https://www.fandom.com/licensing & https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ ➤ All Stories used w/ Direct permission from the Author, or under some form of CC License (where Noted). True stories are not verified and are considered 'supposedly true'.  ➤All videos come with a content warning for language and sensitive content. Viewer Discretion is ALWAYS advised. This is considered horror content.  #CreepyPasta #AsTheRavenDreams #Nosleepstories --- 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

Welcome to aboard Via Rai. Embarked and profite. Embarked and celebrate. Rigolet. Publiere. Savoy. Admirate.

And profite. Viaray, the voice that we love. It's something else here now. Something new. From, exclusively on Paramount Plus, it's the series

Stephen King calls scariest hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real. Sci-Fi Vision calls it the best show. of streaming right now. We're running out of time 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. The round, red button starts at all. A lens, an all-seeing eye. A flashing light blinks as the display shows the souls of the innocent. the guilty, and the deceptive. One can see all of the little movements,

the subtle muscle impressions made by the face that we don't always see, the tiniest hint of discomfort, joy, perplexion. One is omniscient behind the eye of a lens, always watching, hidden in plain sight. The hilarity and ironic value of these facts, is realized when the wider perspective is shown, once you zoom the camera out, so to speak. For when you do, you'll see more than the video camera situated on a tripod. You'll see me.

If I were to tell someone about what I'm actually doing behind my camera, they would likely call me a voyeur, some sort of deviant. I would be little more than a fiend to them, but they would be terribly, terribly wrong. The ignorance of such words is funny, because a single glimpse into what I see would be more than enough to quell the comments. The irony presents itself in that one might expect those who like to spy to pry and peep to invade privacy and learn more. more about people than they know of themselves to be in prison. Or at least be in the darkest depths of society where they cannot act out these fantasies as brazenly. But again, they'd be so utterly wrong. I get paid for it.

Even more bizarrely, people trust me in public settings. So I would implore one to truly assess the situation with me. Here I am, standing at the back of the dining room of a wedding reception. My little blinking lights documenting everything that's going on. I've been allowed in this place, hired even. It's wondrous how easy infiltration is. Mr. and Ms. Anderson, the newlyweds are currently on the dance floor, drunk and disorderly. The ceremony was rather interesting.

I videoed that too, drinking in each and every little expression they made as they said their vows. My zoom captures so much. It's utterly fascinating. Every blemish was in full focus as I slowly zoomed inward to the rest of Ms. Anderson's face. Outside of the camera, she's a woman in her prime, 25, earning five figures. truly a role model and a striking person, but the camera doesn't lie, and I could see it all. I saw the wincing that she made as the vows were recited in front of her. I saw as she slipped the ring on, how her fingers shook.

Underneath it all, she's arrested and worn has been. The soul of an old maid inhabits her youthful body. And Mr. Anderson. the personal trainer, I saw that twinkling smile as they were pronounced husband and wife, the one he likely wears when he hits her too. I know he's a sadist. It takes one to no one. That chiseled, brown-haired man is a facade,

a caricature of masculinity threatening to crumble. They show their true colors to me persistently, and I intend to capture it all. They're doing it now, as they celebrate their marriage to the tune of losing my religion on the dance floor. My lens is trained on them. The subtle discomfort when he touches her waist, that desire to peel away. He wishes that she was more drunk. Maybe then she would make him excited.

I pan away for a few moments, surveying the guests at their tables, analyzing their their movements, their gestures, making for interesting pieces of this puzzle. Sarah, the sister, sits to my left, arms expressing a story she is recounting. I can zoom towards her made-up face, watching the intricacies of the laugh lines upon her face move. It's focused with her in frame now, and separate from the other hubbub in the room. I watch her lips, hearing the sound when I really concentrate on her. She's talking about a childhood story. Her and Ms. Shirley Anderson had an altercation.

Some sort of comedic value involved when the former fell over while arguing as children. The words don't matter, though, not as much as her face. The twitch, as she mentions her sister's name, small, tiny lip movements when accepting compliments about her sister's husband. Oh, she knows quite a lot. Next, the blinking recording device shifts to the table to the right, where Ms. Anderson's close friends are all situated,

settling on one particular. A lean man, mousy-haired, mild, mannered and polite as he shares a joke with his peers. As I zoom, I notice his eyes fitting to the newlyweds on occasion, struggling to engage with his fellow friends, as his focus is drawn elsewhere. Marcus is his name. His words are caught by my ears as I watch his lips with intense interest,

as he talks once more. Something about the Andersons being drunk, that he'd like to go for another drink soon, that perhaps he might dance soon. It seems the idea of being up on that dance floor makes him happy. His expression seems to soften as he moves his gaze, once more aimed at the dance floor, towards the new Miss Anderson. And that fleeting hint of apprehension as his eyes move from bride, to groom. I know quite a lot now. Of course, they are none the wiser.

I'm just here to document their event. At long last, the party is over. I begin to pack my things away, ready to head home. Alone in the room, but for one. He comes up to me, the groom. Paul Anderson, in his navy suit, red tie and brown shoes. Even without the lens, I can see his grandiosity is but an illusion.

You did just as I asked. Well done for not getting in the way too much. I nod and smile, replying as I continued to put my things away. No problem. I'm just an observer. That's all. Right? The man returns with a jovial smile and heads out of the room, the tapping of his feet audible as he goes. I wasn't lying.

I'm simply just an observer. My laptop displays the contents of the video, ready for editing, displayed and full. I watch intently at the screen, eyes fixated on each and every change in expression, reveling in the documentation I have of each interaction. I play back the scenes like a movie, stitching together my narrative. I've created a fall from grace. The ceremony with the snapshots of the couples, all smiles and the fragility they both bring. Next to the meal, morsels swallowed down in small mouthfuls.

Ms. Anderson's apprehensiveness to eat in full view. Her husband looking a little too intently at her as she swallows just for a second. And of course, the dance. The dance is the best part yet. The trailing of his hands up her body as they dance to the rhythm. Her face full of telltale reluctance and tolerance. That's what she is, really. A woman of tolerance.

The music just masks it all in a shroud of celebration. Eyes locked as she tries to break away. his arm keeping her firmly in place. Why do I care so much about people that I hardly know? Their plight is the most interesting part. The fascination lies in their unspoken language. The words that they share with no sounds. I know so much about them through my third eye,

and they hired me, so I must finish their story. The last part has yet to be completed. The fall from Serenity to Boiling Point is there, but their ending has been untold. I don't usually break my own rules, but the Andersons have really enthralled me today. Lazzang sur-gillet, puissance-moined, for 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo. Pre-to-joo? Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo!

The casino in line that proposes the most recent machine-as-a-sue and the game of casino and the time for Big Bas, Bonanza

without exigance of mis and with the payment instantane. Hey, I've got won't. Sontire the pleasure Play-Ojo

18 years, 1,000 depots in Ontario, 50 tours on the machine-a-souc back-Bas Bonanza, depop minimum of $10. Veil to pay

to fashion responsible, the conditions apply. And so, as I switch tabs to my camera feed monitor,

a small sigh escapes my lips. They're sleeping so soundly. Not a single peep. Naturally, they're not embracing, but it is serene sleep nonetheless. I switch them off as I leave, my long coat following me as I go. This ending requires more than just watching. A more personal touch is required.

Strolling through the darkness is where I enjoy life. The cold air on my face. as I trudge along the hard sidewalks of the sleeping city. I cast my mind back to the pre-wedding meetings. Miss Shirley Roberts, as she had been known before, Paul became her husband, sat in front of me in their nice, tidy lounge, discussing the details of their celebration, what I would need to bring, pricing, and such.

I'd had the measure of them before they'd even started talking, The touching and locking eyes were too performative, as if both were trying to fool one another. Their story? It was begging to be told. And here I am once again at the abode that they had allowed me into, both knowingly and unknowingly. I creep into the backyard, duplicate house key in my left hand, and the other key. in my right. Advancing up the stairs is a slow process. Every sound I make risks waking the two slumbering protagonists in my narrative.

I make my way, ascending with careful footing. I hear soft breathing as I near the top, a mumble, and a shift in position. Good. They're still asleep. I'm inside my room now, inches away from my muses. My hand is shaking a little as I place the folder in my right hand between the two sleeping subjects. I switch my eyes and ears in their house on before I retire to bed. The anticipation of what's to come, making sleep difficult.

Whoever wakes first will finish my story. and I'm not disappointed. Not at all. I am an utter unadulterated wonder. The camera feed display as blood-soaked sheets sprawled on the floor, fresh from a morning struggle. Two equally disorganized bodies lay parallel to each other with a blade by Shirley's hand, cadavers leaking the very same liquid the bed is coated with, and just to their left lies an open folder, a picture of a slight, mousy-haired man, and a note scattered not far from it.

I begin to look over the footage from the beginning of the morning, watching the resulting skirmish that the two could not have ever foreseen. The awakening of Paul Anderson. His hands opening my gift. The realization. And of course, the mad rage-induced onslaught with the now discarded blade. I've outdone myself. My predictions were once again correct.

I know these people better than they know themselves. I know their thoughts. I finally allow myself to smile. My work is almost done, and now all that's left is to finish the video, to complete the happiest day of their lives. My ending could not have gone any better. So this was Video File by Zug Zweighing on the creepypasta wiki. A really interesting story. A very well-written story about a guy that has a camera.

A guy that likes to watch people through his lens. I really like how they wrote this story, so yeah, really good one. If you enjoyed this story as much as I did, please consider hitting that thumbs up button to let me know you liked it. You can also subscribe to the channel if you're new. Leave me a comment, letting me know your thoughts. Check out the creepypasta wiki down in the description below. There will be links to this story and the license as well.

And yeah, not really much else to say. Hopefully you guys are having a great day, and hopefully I see you on the next one. But of course, until then, sleep well.