As The Raven Dreams Podcast - "Wounded" & "Anniversary" 2 Creepypasta by Cornconic

Starting point is 00:00:00 Lazzang sur-gillet, Pugance-Moyerned 15 minutes. We're like it's the hour dojo. Prere to enjoy? Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo.

Starting point is 00:00:08 The casino in-line that proposes the more recent machine-as-a-soo and the new-res to pay-a-Bas-Bonanza. No, no longer.

Starting point is 00:00:27 DeVosveneat. DeVosveneat. 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. Today, we have two stories by Corn Connick from the creepypasta wiki. The first one is going to be wounded. Bang, bang, bang, three knocks on the door. Loud knocks. Desperate knocks. Victor squinted through the dark of the cabins. It was early morning, the sun barely cresting over the mountaintops, casting great orange waves across the sky.

Starting point is 00:01:22 The door squeaked on its hinges as it opened. Cold air rushed into the cabin and Victor shivered as a sudden chill gripped his body. Snow was ravaging the ground, coming down in thick clumps. A pale, gaunt man with high cheekbones stared anxiously from a few feet away, clutching at the body of a larger man unconscious on the ground. Fear was stained in his eyes. Palpable fear. I'm Joseph. My friend Mark. He's injured. The man's tone wavered as he spoke, like a crying child. Please, he won't last much longer. We need help. Victor raised his hand. To his chin, there was a bloody trail stained into the snow leading up to the cabin, winding its way across the mountain like a snake.

Starting point is 00:02:13 The wind was menacing in its intensity, ramming against the cabin as if it were trying to blow it off the mountain. You come from the village? Victor responded. His head tilted upwards in uncertainty. We're tourists. Our camp is a while away, past the village, and left. We've been traveling on foot, me and Mark.

Starting point is 00:02:34 We were hiking, and there was enough," Victor spoke, sticking his hand out suddenly. Come inside, I'll help you with your friend." Slumping Mark's body over his shoulder, Victor stepped back inside the cabin. Joseph rushed inside, pausing near the raging fireplace and rubbing his hands together. He sighed deeply, glancing out of the window with a worried glare. A small group of children were gathered below the mountain overlook near the cabin. His lips were blueish, pink, and his body was cold and heatless. Victor listened closely for a sign of a heartbeat, but heard nothing.

Starting point is 00:03:13 Neck injury looks quite serious. You're lucky you got to me now. A few more minutes out there, and he'd be gone. Victor lied. Mark had been dead for minutes now. Joseph turned, suddenly raising an eyebrow. Victor was pouring through a blocky, manual-type book of sorts, having laid Mark on a large table in the center of the room.

Starting point is 00:03:35 Is it true what they say? What, who, says. The villagers, down by the river below. They told us all about you, a healer up in the mountains. We thought it was superstition, just a local legend. The villagers say a lot of things. Tales of ghosts and demons and pixies and such. Easy to imagine why.

Starting point is 00:03:57 All that time spent in the middle of nowhere. Not much to really do or say. No wonder they're not. There's so many stories. They said you're a trickster, you know, a con man that you couldn't be trusted, Joseph spoke. A bunch of ungrateful bastards is what they are, always wandering about getting injured, dragging themselves to the cabin, pathetic little tears in their eyes. Then walking out again without a word of thanks.

Starting point is 00:04:27 If I refuse to help them, they threaten me with violence. They aren't too agreeable with tourists. I'm sure you've experienced. That's how Mark was injured. They turned on us, acted friendly at first, and then ambushed us as we were leaving, and then they robbed us. One of the littler shits wedged a pickaxe in Mark's neck.

Starting point is 00:04:47 Victor laughed coldly. Ah, figures. A fist-sized rock smashed through the window, scattering glass on the cabin floor. Joseph jumped out of the way while Victor scowled and rushed to the new opening. Quiet cheers echoed upward across the overlook. A small group of village children were jumping with joy from down below.

Starting point is 00:05:10 Pebbles clutched in their hand, parents cheering them on. You couldn't have picked a worse place to be a tourist, my friend. These villagers are a blight on the land. Like little rats they are. For all the years I've spent here, I've never seen a more pitiful bunch of ingrates across all of Europe. And they take and they take and they need. never give back. Pure scum. Joseph leaned against the cabin wall, tentatively, unsure of how to react. So, is it true or not? Can you really heal people like they say? Victor set down the manual on a large

Starting point is 00:05:49 bookshelf, cracking a sly grin. There was a sudden flash of light as he began chanting some strange dialect that Joseph could not understand. The words echoed through the room as if it were a cave. What? A final flash shot across the walls and Joseph clamped his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he stood outside the cabin, Mark and Victor by his side. You're welcome. Victor spoke as small wisps of snowfall landed on his face. Mark's gonna be fine, and he's just a little dazed right now.

Starting point is 00:06:23 Side effects from the process, give it a few minutes and he'll be perfectly fine. Mark mumbled quietly in confusion, blinking and scratching his head. Oh, thank you so much, Joseph spoke. Tears of happiness welled up in his eyes. I would offer you money, but the villagers, they... Don't worry about it, friend. Your kindness is payment enough. Oh, and Joseph?

Starting point is 00:06:48 Victor leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. Your friend? Yeah, he was dead. Try and take better care next time. My God, I had no idea. At least it's all sorted now, I suppose," Joseph replied, shaken by Victor's words. But if I could ask you just one last favor, then what would that be? Don't let the villagers get away with what they did.

Starting point is 00:07:18 I don't know what sorts of crazy powers you have, but you must teach them a lesson, please. Victor bit his lip, seemingly contemplating the offer. I think I know something that would do the truth. Joseph nodded, and with a hopeful smile, the pair set off down the snow-cast mountain. Descending the peaks was not an easy task, and Joseph struggled to find his footing as he and Mark slid downwards. Mark pushed further towards the bottom while Joseph stopped, peaking at what had caught his eye below in the village. Uh, go on ahead, Mark. I'll be there in a minute. Mark gave a shaky thumbs up and skidded to the bottom of the slope, continuing across the mountain while Joseph approached

Starting point is 00:08:00 the village apprehensively. It was utter carnage. People were dashing madly along the streets clutching their throats as they tripped over one another in a frantic days. One by one, their panicked movement began to slow to a crawl, right up until they collapsed in the snow, a pool of blood forming around their bodies. Mortified, Joseph ran to the nearest villager, an elderly man shaking violently on the ground. Can't breathe!

Starting point is 00:08:29 He spoke roughly, as if every syllable was causing him great pain. What's wrong? What do you need? Joseph asked the man, trying to hold his body steady. Water, I need water. The man's words were lost in a sea of coughs, and Joseph watched in horror as his milky eyes glassed over, his arms falling limply by his side. The skin on the man's neck was peeling away on its own, layer by layer. Within moments, Once the wound had formed completely stretching from the man's chin to his collarbone. It was Mark's exact gash, as if it had been copied and pasted onto the man's neck. Yellowish pus leaked from the opening, staining the man's clothing. Joseph wretched, barely managing to contain the rising vomit in his throat.

Starting point is 00:09:18 Everywhere he looked, the gashes bloomed on people's necks, like a virus. Almost the same size and shape as Mark's. Small children weezed and choked by their parents' corpses. the life draining from their bodies. Screaming mothers held dead babies in their arms, blood trickling down to their breasts. Even the animals were suffering. Dogs moaned and whimpered from the houses, and birds flew skyward in fear only to plummet back down to the ground, half dead in the air. It was a circus of death, and Joseph was the audience.

Starting point is 00:09:52 There was nothing he could do. The last remaining villagers stumbled drearily through the ocean of the dead. The wind whistled eerily along the alleys as he hacked up globs of blood and mucus, depressingly aware of his fate. With clenched fists, he let out a ragged yell collapsing forwards onto another body. Snowfall was already slowly burying the corpses, covering their pale faces. Joseph sank to his knees, unable to speak or even move. Weeping, he questioned if what he saw.

Starting point is 00:10:28 saw was even real. But what confirmed it was Victor standing proudly on the mountain overlook. That smug's smile still plastered across his face in the sunlight. The story is titled Anniversary. Biennue at board of Viarai. Embarked and celebrate. Rigolet. Publié.

Starting point is 00:11:04 Savouré. Admira. Admira. Profite. Via Raille, the voice we love. I exhale, trying to open my eyelids. They flicker, violently, unable to stay in one place. I pry them open with my shaky fingers.

Starting point is 00:11:25 Everywhere hurts. My nose runs with blood and snot, and the air is strangely warm, the heat sticking to my body like glue. I roll over and push my chin down into my chest, trying to pull myself up. up. I can't feel my legs. I thump and hit them mercilessly, but it feels like they're not even there. I'm... I'm on a road somewhere. I don't know where. I don't know why or how. I can sense danger. The road is narrow, covered in little pieces of gravel that pressed into the bloodied skin on my arms. The ground beneath me feels almost living. It has an unnatural warmth to it that makes me squirm. There's no wind or breeze to soothe my slowly roasting body.

Starting point is 00:12:14 The air, oven-like in its temperature, I'm already caked in sweat. If I squint, I can make out steep, rounded hills lurking miles away, blanketed by fog. Other than that, the landscape is flat and grassy, stretching on as far as I can see. No animals, no people. Just silence in the taste of copper. My lips are dry and swollen, and my tongue feels like a slug in my mouth. I try screaming for help, but all that comes out is a quiet, garbled whisper. Around an hour passes.

Starting point is 00:12:51 My vision fades in and out, and the blood slides down my throat only to come gargling back up again. Its taste is putrid and sour, like acid. One singular memory suddenly clears in my mind. It's my 65th anniversary today. I have no idea what the occasion might be. My hopes surge as I hear the wheeze of a car engine coming down the road. A few seconds later it rolls out of the fog. A navy blue Packard Clipper, its headlights beaming down at me like the light of God himself.

Starting point is 00:13:26 It comes to an abrupt stop a few feet away and I can see the driver. A middle-aged man peering down at me checking if he's hallucinating. I beg for help with my eyes and he steps out of the car. rushing over to my broken body. The man kneels at my shattered hip. Panic flashes in his eyes, and his face is red and conflicted. His clothes are like mine, albeit a lot less bloody. Suspenders and a buttoned shirt like an L.A. detective.

Starting point is 00:13:55 He pauses and glances around at nothing in particular, and then back at the driver's seat. And even in my condition, I can tell what he's thinking. The man mumbles something unintelligible. He places his hand under my armpits and hoists me upward, dragging me to the car door. I pushed out a garbled, thank you. The car is packed, full of boxes, piling up to the ceiling in some places, with only the middle seat unoccupied and no legroom to speak of. The man crams me into the empty space and jumps into the driver's seat, almost slamming the car door on his foot in haste. The car's engine coughs itself back into life, and the tires scrape down against the gravel as we set off.

Starting point is 00:14:41 I shrink down in my seat, trying to hide from the blinding pain. The man darts his eyes to me as he U-turns back down the road, fishing out a map and bottle of alcohol from the glove box. He rapidly unfolds the map and begins to trace a pathway with his finger. The bottle of alcohol is placed in my lap, and although I imagine the man wants me to pour it on my wounds, I crack open the wall. the top and take a powerful swig, struggling to stay conscious. It tastes warm and bitter, and reach over to a box and pull out a handful of dirty tissues, now bloody, dirty tissues.

Starting point is 00:15:19 They sink a little into my wounds, quickly becoming moist. Neither of us have said anything to each other until the man finally decides to speak up. Put pressure on the wound, he mumbles. I almost don't hear him. He speaks with the heavy action. accent, though. I can't place where from. Germany? Russia, perhaps. More minutes pass. I keep a hand, planted firmly on my left hip, fingers pushing deep into the opening of my wound. The window roller handle jiggles gently in my grasp. I am unable to find the strength to pull it around. The man seems lost. He worryingly gazes at the map every few seconds, squinting and cursing under his breath. I see the symbol of a hospital at the end of his

Starting point is 00:16:06 finger. The road stretches on perfectly straight for what seems like miles. It doesn't look like we're getting anywhere at all. Fog is still smeared all along the hills far away in thick clumps. Half-dried blood is stained on my teeth. My head bobs back and forth. I try to spit into my tissue but miss and dribble the saliva down my chin. Trying to stay awake, I periodically pinched my side, making my eyes twitch and flutter once more. doing out here, I grogly ask the man. Huh? He replies.

Starting point is 00:16:42 You, you seem lost, but this road is just one straight line. Which way did you come from? How did you even get here in the first place? The man pauses. An anxious stare caught in his eye. I begin to wish I had never asked as his face fills with worry. He shakes off my question and turns back to the map. Even more time passes and something undeniable.

Starting point is 00:17:06 It's reliably feels very wrong. I catch occasional glimpses of movement in the fog. At first, just small glimmers of light that fade within an instant. But the further we travel, the worse they get. I can tell the man sees them too. He's just pretending he doesn't. His face is still bright red and his bloodshot eyes stay bolted to the windshield. The map slips from the man's lap.

Starting point is 00:17:35 I glance upon it, and it confirms my suspicions. It makes no geological sense. There are no roads that straight or that long where we are supposed to be. Have you tried the radio? I blurt out. No, the man replies. No, I haven't. With a shaky hand, he presses a large button on the dashboard. There's a small crackle, and for a moment it seems to flick into life.

Starting point is 00:18:01 The spark of joy in our hearts is crushed, however, as a blanketing buzz of static drowns out anything being that could possibly be heard. Frowning, the man turns the radio off, replacing the buzz with depressing silence. My body feels warm and heavy, yet I can't sleep. It feels like I should have bled out by now, but blood still trickles from my wound like a steady river. The pain is just as strong as it was when I woke up. Maybe worse. My hair droops to my shoulders, dusting my arms with dandruff.

Starting point is 00:18:33 The fog's movements are increasing in frequent. They're impossible to ignore now. Worse, the fog seems to be closing in on us. It's approaching from all angles little by little, making the car feel even more claustrophobic. The man utters a continuous string of profanities in his native language, getting more and more tense as the minutes pass by, and the fog gets closer. Just a few more feet from where it was a minute ago. Within the hour, it was mere inches away from the road. road. Breathing heavily. The man eases slowly off the accelerator, letting the car roll to a stop.

Starting point is 00:19:12 He gently moves his hands away from the wheel. I raise an eyebrow while the man's face freezes in sheer terror. Why have we? He interrupts, placing a finger to his lips. Why have we stopped? I continue in a much quieter tone. You don't see it? He whispers. Right in that... That fucking fucking fog over there? The man jabs a stiff finger at a spot of fog just ahead of the car on our left. I lean in for a closer look, still not able to make anything out. I... I just saw it.

Starting point is 00:19:48 Some sort of massive fucking thing. Three times the height of this car easily. For what feels like days, we stare at the fog waiting, anticipating for anything to show up. Neither of us dare to even blink. We're going to die out here, he speaks, his hands sliding down the side of his face. I won't get into heaven, believe me. I'm not a good person. I did some bad things back in the war, things that would make you sick at the side of me,

Starting point is 00:20:20 things that make me sick at the side of me. We tortured prisoners, we took innocent people away from their families and friends. Silent tears roll slowly down the man's face. What about you? got anything you'd like to confess? He turned and stares deep into my eyes, like he's examining my soul. And I stutter, struggling to form an answer. I...

Starting point is 00:20:45 I ran over a young girl in the countryside once. Never told anyone. I was drunk, I think. I was speeding. I just... I just left her there. She... Oh, God, she might not have...

Starting point is 00:21:00 And I shiver. And the man turns back to face the wheel. Well, maybe we'll see each other again in hell. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. The tension is unbearable. It feels like something is going to jump out at us at any moment. Back it up. I finally speak.

Starting point is 00:21:19 What? Back it up! If there's something there, we'll go the other way. It's better than just sitting here waiting to be eaten. The man nods and places a sweaty palm on the gear shift. For a moment, time seems to hang still. moves, not even the fog. An unholy screech ripples through my eardrums just as the car begins to reverse. I clamp my hands to my head and scream only managing to peek a glimpse of the horrible

Starting point is 00:21:45 apparition as it stepped out of the fog on its bony, jagged feet and claws. Its twisted body towards the car. The man spins the wheel hard, pressing his foot down. It stops after us, making the ground tremble. My ears won't stop ringing even when the screaming stops and the figure disappears back into the fog behind us. The creature appears before us on the road again, taking up too much space for us to avoid. The car almost swerves, straight into the fog, instead flipping sideways as we hit the monster's foot like appendage. We tumble down the gravel roads, our bodies bouncing off the car's interior.

Starting point is 00:22:21 At some point we lose momentum and come to a stop upside down. The man, his half-conscious, streaks of blood cast across his forehead. The being let out a victorious yell. violating my ears once again. I moan and crawl out of the wreckage on my hands and knees, finally getting a half-decent look at what it really was. A pale, humanoid figure, two to three stories tall with bones poking out from its tightly wrapped skin,

Starting point is 00:22:50 barely hanging on to its flesh. Its head is a smooth white ball with a single dark hole pushed deep into the flesh. I press myself firmly into the gravel, taking shallow breaths. The monstrous being reaches down with a long finger and scrapes the ruined clipper into its palms. The man's helpless screams can still be heard inside the vehicle as the monster carries him away with the car, disappearing once again into the fog.

Starting point is 00:23:19 Broken. I lay down and I wait for death, but it doesn't come. The creature does not return for me, and I wail hopelessly at the sky, begging to be put out of my misery. I still can't move my legs, and an overwhelming feeling of deja vu prods at my mind, like I've lived through this experience countless times. Another memory fades into my mind. Today's date, the 17th of September 2019. Finally, it all clicks. I died 65 years ago today.

Starting point is 00:23:59 Once more, I hear that. the wheeze of a car engine coming down the road. A few seconds later, it rolls out of the fog, a navy blue, Packard Clipper, its headlights beaming down at me, like the light of God himself. Hey there, friends, I hope you guys enjoyed this beautiful little collection of stories, two of them, to be exact. The first story was titled Wounded, the Second One Anniversary, both of them, by Corn Connick from the Creepypasta Wiki. Corny Connick is a fantastic author, has quite a few of these stories, and I will happily link to their page down below, as well as link to both these stories. Both these stories are utilized under CC by essay from the Creepypasta Wiki.

Starting point is 00:24:49 So, thank you to Corn Connick for posting your stories here. Just want to let you know these were fantastic, and I absolutely loved narrating them. Friends, if you enjoyed this collection of stories and would like to get some more content like this, or content that is so vastly different. It's like comparing a hermit crab to North Dakota. Please consider joining the Nevermore. To join the Nevermore, all you got's to do was click on that little subscribe button and the bell icon next to it. Then you're part of the Nevermore.

Starting point is 00:25:23 Additionally, you can support me by following me on any of my social medias down below, or supporting the channel through Patreon or coffee all optional, all appreciated. That said, friends, I hope you have a beautiful weekend. I hope I'll see you on the next video. If I don't, I'll be very sad. But if I do just know that I won't be sad. I don't know where I was going with that. Anyway, all right.

Starting point is 00:25:47 Talk to the next video. But until then, sleep well.

As The Raven Dreams Podcast - "Wounded" & "Anniversary" 2 Creepypasta by Cornconic

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