As The Raven Dreams Podcast - "Winter Kingdom" By Aakash Sharma

Episode Date: November 17, 2020

A Kingdom with a missing King, a throne of flesh and blood, and an oncoming winter with the coldest of winds. Well, that's how she told the story at least...  All stories come with a Mild Content Warning for Language and/or Graphic content. Viewer Discretion is advised. If you have a story you'd like me to narrate, send it my way! https://astheravendreams.reddex.app/submit ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬  【Join The Nevermore】 SMASH That Thumbs Up Button! Subscribble to the Chibble! ➠ youtube.com/c/astheravendreams Check out my Website!  ➠ www.astheravendreams.com Audiocast on Anchor/Spotify! ➠ https://anchor.fm/astheravendreams Send me Spooky stories! ➠ https://astheravendreams.reddex.app/submit EARLY ACCESS on Patreon!  ➠ https://patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams One Time KoFi Donations  ➠  https://ko-fi.com/astheravendreams Official Merch Store ➠ https://teechip.com/stores/astheravendreams Follow me on Twitter  ➠  https://twitter.com/RavensDreamYT Join Our Discord ➠ https://discord.gg/ncT9j9H Check out my Subreddit ➠ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬  【Credits & Times】 0:00  ➠  "Winter Kingdom" By Aakash Sharma   ➠  https://www.reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream/comments/jekmhz/winter_kingdom_part_i_by_aakash_sharma/ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬  【Disclaimer】 All stories used with permission, or under some level of Creative Commons License. Some stock footage from https://freestockfootagearchive.com. If music is not credited above, it is either free to use or original. The Music on ALL Raven Investigates videos is a modified version of  "Falling Rain" By Myuu.  Thank you to EVERYONE that watches my videos, and thank you to all my  subscribers. Have a nice day, much love, and Sleep well. --Raven.  ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬ ✯ ✬  Be sure to *subscribe* if you like any of the following; Glitch In The Matrix Stories - Cryptid Encounter Stories - Creepy Encounter Stories - Let's Not Meet Stories - Reddit Ghost Stories - Scary Horror Stories - Creepypasta - Reddit Paranormal Stories - Missing 411 Stories - Backwoods Horror Stories - 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

It's never too early to plan your summer story in Europe with WestJet, from rolling countryside to cobblestone streets. Begin your next chapter. Book your seat at westjet.com or call your travel agent. WestJet, where your story takes off. Biennue at board of VIAE. Embarked and profited. Embarked and relax. Ciroat.

Bookine. Oh, that also. And profite. Via Rai, the voice that we love that we love. Today's story is Winter Kingdom Part 1 by Akash Sharma. Once upon a time, in a cold, dark land, there was a king who lived on tall mountains of ice, a king without a castle who sat on a throne of blood and skin. From the top of his mountain, he watched over his kingdom of skeletons,

roaring loudly for his subject skeletons on the arrival of winter. cautioning them of the impending icy winds. The skeleton kingdom was home to all kinds of skeletons. Tall skeletons, short skeletons, fat skeletons and thin skeletons. Old skeletons and younger, fresher skeletons. When they were old enough, a skeleton started to grow skin, or had blood flowing through its body. Every time that happened, they would go to the king and bow in front of him.

My lord of flesh and blood, a skeleton would say. Here I give to you a humble offering so you may make it one with your throne. And with that, the skeleton would offer the king all of the flesh and blood it had, and the king would find a place for it on his throne. Every day, offers were made, and the throne grew bigger and bigger, taller and taller, fatter and the king went up higher and higher. More and more skeletons would come in every day and every night, and they would keep giving more and more flesh and blood to the king's chair. The king's throne eventually grew so tall, his voice became faint and soft to the ones who stood below.

But the skeletons did not stop, like obedient subjects, making their humble contributions to the throne. Every day, they added, and every night they added. My lord, I come to offer you more of my own flesh and blood, and I hope my humble offerings give more strength to your throne, and in reply, they heard just a distant mumble from high up. The throne eventually went up so high. The throne became a living tower, covered in flesh with veins of blood flowing through it. If you were still enough, a faint heartbeat could be heard from within the tower. The tower went so high up, the skeletons believed that it might have pierced through the skies. One day, a skeleton bowed in front of the tower. Fresh blood dripping from his bony white hands,

and a handful of extracted flesh tied neatly with ropes on his back. After his words of offering, he stood up waiting for the king's reply, and he waited and waited. Not a sound. He said his words a second time, and he was yet again met with silence. And then he looked up. The vast throne he and his fellow skeletons had built, and on top of it he froze. He could no longer locate the top.

He felt like a sailor on a boat, trapped in the still windlessness of the ocean of time. A few moments felt like ages in this uncertain stillness he found himself in. and then, like a gentle breeze, a hopeful wind, his skull was kissed by dropping snow. He waited for the king's roar, knowing full well that it may never come. The king was lost in the skies. The skeletons rejoiced that day. They had finally gotten themselves rid of the fleshed king that ruled over this land of bones. They had finally found freedom.

The skeletons sang all day, and they sang all night. They danced till their bones came apart and fell on the icy terrain below, but they put it back together and danced some more. They sang wildly while the moon watched silently. They continued their songs even when the moon had hidden under the blanket of a sunless winter day. And as time went on, the skeletons had found themselves used to this life without a leader, and lived life free and happy. Eventually, their skins began to grow back,

and blood began to flow into their veins. The snowfall never stopped. And the winds grew even colder, and with the growth of their skin, the cold finally touched them. But the cold was not so gentle. It was fierce, with icy teeth aimed on their skin, wanting to bite through their skins and freeze their blood. and bite it did.

The skeletons had never felt the cold before. They had no understanding of it, but with the growth of their skins, they felt the harsh cold for the first time. And with this new agony, they had to live. The old ones died first, and then the youngest ones found themselves frozen in the cold. The skeletons fought against each other, accusing each other of being at fault for this unescapable cold of the harsh winter. and with that, eventually, the skeleton kingdom found itself buried in the snow. The few that lived now found themselves slaves to the ice. By this time, they could not find a way to rid themselves of their skins either.

The flesh had found roots in their bones, and was now an eternal part of them. Every summer they lived in peace, but that was only before. Now, with summers, they found themselves preparing for winter, and with winters they prayed for the summer's return. They had tried to get their king back, readying themselves for heavy and heartfelt words of apologies and for the punishments that may follow. Yet, the living tower had been darkened and withered

by the icy winds of winter, and the king lay trapped on his tower of rot. And so with heavy hearts, the skeletons finally accepted their fate of agony and hardship, and are now subjects of the winter. My mother stood up straight, looking down on me as she smiled warmly, thinking I had fallen into a deep slumber, as she cautiously paced in a gentle manner to the door, and gently shut it, leaving only a tiny sliver of light seeping into my room.

Sleep hadn't taken me yet, and I opened my eyes to the dark room. The tiny amount of light that the door allowed in formed a line on the front wall of the room, vertically reaching from the top of the window to the floor. I had made sure the windows had been kept covered by the blinders as tightly as possible, so that I couldn't accidentally find myself looking out of it, or anything accidentally looking in. I shivered at that thought. When I was seven years old, my mother had been in the hospital,

giving birth to my sister, and I had been staying with my aunt Greta at the time. I'd been watching TV late at night. Aunt Greta didn't care much about me going to sleep at the time my parents had set for me, but she herself, exhausted and possibly maybe even slightly drunk, had found rest on the couch, sitting next to me. While the television flickered with various colors, illuminating her skin, edging towards the moment a light bright enough would jerk her out of her sleep.

Aunt Greta won that battle. and managed to keep her sleep, but not me. I was on the losing side, and sleep had finally begun to tug at me. I tried distracting myself, shaking my head, and looking around my room. That's when I made the grave mistake

of looking at the front window next to the staircase in the living room. Two eyes stared back at me, shining white with a touch of red in them. A demonic horned outline stood out. out, sinisterly grabbing a hold of my gaze with the hellish stare it had locked me into. I don't remember the exact moment I let go, but my aunt was there to comfort me, calming me down, and the thing outside the window just stood still, flinching a little.

It's just a cat, Aunt Greta said comfortingly, yet slightly irritated. shoeing the horrid thing away by tapping the window lightly. It pounced through the window and out of my sight. Innocent as that encounter had been all those years ago, it had instilled in me a heavy fear of cats and looking through the windows in the dark of the night. Yet, tonight, I felt a different kind of heaviness, one that came with feelings of gloom and sadness.

The story my mom told me about the skeletons was not a stranger to me. Yet it was one story I could not find myself to bear. I felt like an idiot, asking to hear that story again. My mom had told it to me a few months back, and I felt the same melancholy back then. I felt that I'd grown stronger within to be able to bear that dark tale once more, yet I had only found myself feeling bad about the skeletons. even a tiny bit of guilt for keeping their suffering alive by asking that tale to be spoken again. I had pretended to fall asleep in hopes of my mother leaving the story undone and walking out alone,

leaving me to face only my silly fear of the dark, and not this heavy air of sadness that had been left behind. What was the point of that story? I asked myself. There was no moral attached to it, not a wholesome outcome. it was a story that tied an iron chain around my tiny, 11-year-old heart and tossed it to the bottom of the river. I still feel the same way after all these years anyway. And the way she would tell it, it made the whole experience even more depressing. So vivid and indifferent with her narration was, it was unsettling.

But thankfully, that night was not a snowy night. It wasn't even winter yet. That night was a rainy one. There was no storm, not like I would have minded that anyway. It was a calm, gentle rain with distant, soothing rumbles of thunder. I closed my eyes to sleep through the gloom that I felt, but the moment I did, images of the skeletons building a tower of extracted skin and blood, and dancing to the moonlight filled the darkness.

I tried to think of other things, but the skeletons had already wrapped their bony fingers all around my imagination. I didn't want to open my eyes and look around, and seeing the risk the blinders in the window somehow opened. So I buried myself in the covers and shut my eyes. My main concern was to just fall asleep somehow. But slowly, I opened my eyes. Just a tiny peek.

Just a tiny peek and nothing. would go wrong. I looked out the covers and scanned the room. The tiny line of light was gone. My mom had probably already gone to sleep. My eyes then moved a slight left to the drawer, a pile of unread books on top of it, and then the window. Nope.

I got out of the covers and ran to the door, all while imagining eyes of that horrid thing in the window. I saw all those years ago following me. I shut the door behind me and decided to sneak into my parents' room. I knew I wasn't supposed to sneak out this way. My mom had a strict bedroom curfew of 9 p.m. for us kids. Of course, she would send us to bed earlier, but it was pretty clear she did not want us out of our rooms after nine.

But tonight, she had told me that story again, and hearing that led to a series of events. that had led me to lose all of my bravery. The rain did provide some comfort to me, calming and soft as it was. I still dared not look at any windows at the hall. Shielding half of my field of vision by cupping my palm around my right eye,

I went across the hall, the faint creaks of the wooden flooring making me painfully aware of my loneliness in the now dark hallway. There was a corner up front, the left of which were some stables, leading down to the living room, and to the right of the corner, in a distance, with just a few tiny steps, was a turn, which led to the door to my parents' room and the bathroom. Now, here, I stood still for a moment.

I was trying to peek into the corner and at the same time, trying to focus elsewhere. If I wasn't fast enough, something would come out of that corner and grab me. There was so much darkness in that corner. It almost looked like a dark cloaked man sat there, concealing himself into that place with slow and even breaths. The dark cloaked man breathed the light in and exhaled the dark. He was darkness itself. If I wasn't quick enough, he would grab me with those long tendrils of his and swallow me whole.

A rumble of thunder came, but not before a flash of lightning, lifting the veil of dark from that corner, revealing absolutely nothing. No cloaked men, no skeletons. But as soon as the light went away, I saw something there. It was just for a tiny moment, but I swear I saw a big, crawling mass of darkness. It was alive, and moving with thousands or millions of appendages, tendrils, or even legs, like a spider or a squid, or some kind of. grotesque insect from the deep.

And when the thunder followed this time, it didn't feel like the soothing, calming touch of my mother's hand either. Rather, it felt like a witch's cackle, loud and hideous. Piercing my soul and getting even closer, a cackle from the depths of a throat with crawling maggots and rotting skin. I bolted as fast as I could, almost tripping over my own feet and somehow I reached. the room and burst right through it. It was unlocked, and there I looked around in the dark, scanning frantically from my mother's presence.

And there, standing in the dark, in front of the mirror, stood someone. Hoping it was my mother, I tried to make out its features, but my heart was also infested with fear, and I could feel it clawing at my chest, pleading to be let out. It was as tall as my mother, and was built like a woman. Yes, it was naked. I could make out the outline of the bear sagging breast and lightning struck again, this time bringing light to the entire room, and the thunder screamed, a blood-curdling scream, as I saw the figure for what it was.

The wrinkled, leathery and aged skin, along with a barren scalp, its lip twisted and the jaws shut so closely, indicating a lack of teeth. The naked woman opened her mouth to say a few words, but I felt the world go dim around me with a bright flash of light before I was plunged into complete darkness. Danny? Dan? Yeah, he's opening his eyes.

The sound of my dad's voice was the rope I pulled on to come out of my darkness, and I woke up with a jump. My mother came up to the bed, and wrapped her arms around me. I was so worried about you, she said. How are you feeling, baby? Her arms around mine, I checked her for wrinkles, and suddenly feeling a bit stupid,

I turned a bit red. My dad let out a laugh and punched me in the arm softly and stood up, rubbing his bald head. I told you he's a strong one, aren't you? I gave a hesitant nod. My mother put her hands on my shoulders, sat back and looked me in the eye. Now, tell me what happened, child, and tell me everything.

It's all right, baby. Mommy and Daddy are here. I misliked the way she seemed to baby me, and I didn't think to complain. I looked at the window. The sun was rising up, and the sky seemed clear. Well, I... I remembered what I saw that night before.

The crawling mass of darkness, and the naked old lady. It's silly now that I think of it, but at the time I was too embarrassed to tell my parents that I saw a naked old woman, naked old woman in our house. I just had a bad dream, and I got scared. My mom stood up,

telling me words of comfort that were meaningless to me, and walked out, holding my sister's hand and walking out of the room downstairs. Dad? I told my dad as he could, came to sit down next to me. I think I want to sleep for a bit. My dad nodded.

Do you want, Mom? He asked. I refused and shut my eyes. I was too sleepy to care or to think much. I brushed the old lady off as a bad dream and nothing more during the day. At night, as much as I didn't want to, I believed with all certainty that it was real. Our house was haunted by an old lady's ghost. I had been sleepless the first few nights, and even though I had mom next to me for three days,

I kept a lookout at times, peeking out the sheets to see if the old lady had come back, making sure the blinds were shut first, but I didn't see her. A few weeks passed, and I figured it was just a bad dream. A year or two later, I pushed it to the rear end of my mind. It was winter, and the first batch of snow had made its way, to my hometown. Flex of snow buried themselves in my hair and their cousins and made their place on the ground, forming a white path home. My sister and I usually walked home from school together. I usually was on my own while my sister talked to one of her friends. I didn't really know any of them.

She and I had never been close, and during school we drifted apart even more. She was in middle school, and she already knew what an enormous loser I was. I used to sneak out the school from the back as to avoid Zachary Levitt and his henchman. They never put a hand on me, and that's how they got away with it. I felt ashamed, unable to stand up to them. Their words bit into me like rows of sharpened teeth. The trouble began when a white cat had found itself in front of the school, and it got too close to me. I cried because it kept hissing at me.

A lot of people happened to see that. A lot. Zachary rode past us in one of his friend's car. I averted my eyes so as to not attract any attention, but the more I tried to look away, the sure my chances of being harassed were one of them poked their head out the window, making a hissing sound.

That wasn't so bad. But then I saw my sister and her friend turned back to look at me and they chuckled a bit. That hurt me even worse. That encouraged them even more. They slowed the car a bit, and now all of them started meowing and hissing at me while my sister and her friend looked straight ahead,

probably trying to conceal their broad grins. In my mind, I hid in a shell like a turtle, only hearing faint echoes of their taunts. Every time I got mad enough and yelled a few colorful words of my own, they pulled back their fists ready for a fight. And the scrawny, skinny kid I was, I thought it was wiser to back away. I never cried myself to sleep. I didn't even think about it all that much, to be honest.

It had become such a normal occurrence that I didn't feel much about it. At night, I stayed awake, staring up to the ceiling. The only source of light in the room was the tiny sliver that creeped in from the outside. as my mom stayed up much later. The blinds, as usual, had to remain shut. My fear of cats and windows were the only two things that I carried, other than my shame and constant feeling of emptiness. I didn't care that I didn't have many friends,

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money to pay tax suh money to pay for money The sound of my door creaking open made me sit up. Happy birthday to you. My mom sang, holding up a metal tray.

My sister and my dad followed behind, turning the lights on. My mom sat in front of me on the bed, placing a tiny chocolate cupcake with a skinny red candle on it right next to me. I looked at the clock. It had struck 12. I put on a smile and accepted my mom's embrace. I still remember it vividly. She wore no perfume, yet she had a soothing, motherly scent to her. Her arms were skinny, and yet she had a firm hold of me.

The fabric of her sleeves felt slightly rough on my neck, but I didn't care. She planted a kiss on my cheek. You're a man now, son, my dad said. He still wore his uniform. He probably got the cake while patrolling, and he would probably have to go back to patrol. trolling after this. Eighteen years, my mom said smiling. I can't believe I'm that old now, she laughed a bit.

Ellen, wish your brother a happy birthday. Ellen came to me, giving me a forced, loose hug, and wishing me awkwardly and then moving back next to Mom. You know the rules. You get the big cake tomorrow and the gifts, too, mom said. Well, dad cut in, adding to this playful act they put up. maybe except this.

My dad handed me a white, unmarked box. Open it, he said with a grin. A lamp. A lamp that gave off a blue light. Nice. Well, it isn't much, but like your mom said, you get the real gifts tomorrow. We have to keep it exciting, you know. My dad gave me a wink.

But I figured you'd probably have more use of this thing tonight. I thanked them all. and eventually they departed for the night. I couldn't sleep that evening. I was trying to get myself excited for tomorrow, but I felt nothing but emptiness. I felt like the best of my life had been over sometimes, and tonight was one of those times.

I flicked the light on, giving the room a blue tint, and creating a million shadows with a dim nightlight, and then turned it off, sending the room back into the darkness. It was better this way. The shadows formed strange shapes that I didn't want to see. Yet, my thumb decided to flick the switch,

creating an army of shadows in the room once more. And so it went for a long while. Tomorrow was Sunday, so I could stay up a bit later. My own room had begun to make me uncomfortable, so I decided to go downstairs and watch some TV, lamp in hand. I left the room. I walked straight to the hall. The window tapped slightly as tiny snowflakes touched it on their way down, and yet I could

not bring myself to look that way. Like I said, the fear was one of the things that I had always carried with me. The bathroom lights were on. My mom was in there. Her bedroom door was wide open. She sang a soft tune in the bathroom, and it just confirmed her presence in there. I would never forget that. tune. It sounded like something

old and gloomy. It provoked strange imagery in my mind, but only vague shapes that I couldn't place. Coupled with the winter winds outside, it would form an almost haunting scenery. The dark corner

was still there. The light from the closed bathroom had not reached far enough. It was peeking at me, threatening to show me horrid things in itself. Thankfully I had the lamp in my hand for that. The light my mom and dad had given me and I flicked it on, sending all terrible entities in the dark fleeing away and leaving behind an innocent corner. I went down the stairs

and into the living room and watched ten minutes of mindless television, and my eyes began to get drowsy. Turning it off, I went back upstairs, readying myself for the sweet hold of restful sleep. I took the final step, looking down to flick the left. light on to scare the darkness in the corner away. And when I did, the blue light fell on the aged and wrinkled skin of a naked old woman. I froze in fear. The light held still in my hands. The woman walked straight past my parents' bedroom, which was still wide open and in complete darkness, and to the bathroom.

I heard no singing from my mother. No sound at all except the splashing of water. I stood there frozen. Blue light, my only company, while that thing went inside with my mother. The splashing grew intense, and yet all I could do was stand still. My eyes wide open and my jaw clung tightly together.

I was afraid, but so afraid that I didn't feel it. I became it. My body had forgotten its own self and disdain. decided to accept whatever horrid end awaited it. Splash, splash, I pictured nothing. It was just the splashing of water to me, nothing more. But I knew there was something far more sinister at hand. I awaited my consciousness to leave and go far away from me,

and yet it stayed with me, holding my head firmly and making me experience this dreadful reality. The light of the corner eventually faded. and I remember watching my dad banging at the bathroom door while my sister stood crying in the corner. My dad yelled too, but they were distant and faint to me. I was trapped within my own shell of fear. My dad kicked down the door, and there we found her. She lay still in the bathtub, just a sack of pruned meat and not the person I remember as my mother, just flesh and bones.

flesh and bones. And then I realized the irony of it, and it seemed morbidly funny, and I let out a slight shuckle. My lips quivered, not knowing whether to laugh or to mourn. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I fell on the floor. My throat,

threatening to tear as I cycled between crying and laughing and crying and laughing and then just weeping. Mom was dead, and it was my fault as well. I should have entered. I could have helped her if it wasn't for my stupid fucking fears. I ate my birthday cake when my dad spoke to the other officers who'd come during the morning hours. His eyes had been bloodshot red, and it seemed like he was done crying, yet he sat putting on a strong face. My dad helped me dress up for the funeral.

I was in shock since her passing, and I barely spoke or got anywhere on my own. On our way, watching the snowy winter land that our hometown was now transformed into, I remembered the old lady. I hadn't told anyone about that. How could I? It had been just a nightmare, right? And even if it wasn't, was I to tell you. tell them that I let a ghost drown my mother in a bathtub, even though the cause had been

marked as an accident. I embraced myself. The funeral was going to be hard on me, but I had to face it. After walking through the few early arrivals, my grandparents and some uncles all from my father's side, I stood next to my dad, but my sister wanted to have some time alone with my mother, so Dad let her go first. simply patting her on the shoulder. I stood next to him. Hearing him talk and whispers, as I looked down to the ground,

I looked at the entrance of the church, turning my head away from the grim atmosphere, and there, there I saw the outline of a person, a woman. I tried to make out which aunt or neighbor she was, but then she just walked out in a hurry. I chalked it up to an honest mistake

and began to turn back. just when I heard my sister scream. I froze up for a moment, but I decided to fight through this time, following after my dad and his elder brother as they ran into the room. My uncle reached first, and I slowed my pace, seeing that she was okay. She knelt down to my sister and exchanged a few words, before she pointed at my mother's casket. She stood up abruptly as she saw within and shielded my sister's eyes as well.

My dad looked into it and gasped, covering his mouth with roughened hands and turned away. My stomach began to drop. As I got closer expecting the worst, I looked within. She was completely naked. The dark gown she was supposed to be clad in was gone. A large cut had been made in her back in blood. It was clean and dry. Mom no longer even looked.

Like my mother, I'd come to a horrible realization as the contents of my stomach began to rise up to my throat. All that was left of her was flesh and blood. So that, my friends, was once again, Winter Kingdom Part 1 by Akash Sharma. Akash Sharma is the author of the absolutely amazing series, Raventown. A series I narrated and genuinely loved. so if you haven't heard that one, I do highly recommend you go check it out. All that said, friends, I hope you did enjoy this, and if you did one like to become part of the Nevermore, please do consider subscribing and hitting that bell icon.

You can also follow me on all my social media pages and check out my website or support the channel through Patreon or coffee. All of it, optional, all of it appreciated. That said, friends, hope you have a beautiful day. I hope to see you in the next video, but until then, sleep well.