Creepy - The Rake

Episode Date: April 10, 2017

It's called The Rake...***Presented by the "Is Anyone There" podcast***Sound design by Pacific Obadiah*** ***Intro music by Alex Aldea***Intro narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened, or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. listener discretion is advised. The Rake During the summer of 2003, events in the northeastern United States

involving a strange, human-like creature sparked brief local media interest before an apparent blackout was enacted. Little or no information was left intact, and most online and written accounts of the creature were mysteriously destroyed. Primarily focused in rural New York state and once found in Idaho,

Self-proclaimed witnesses told stories to their encounters with a creature of unknown origin. Emotions range from extremely traumatic levels of fright and discomfort to the most childlike sense of playfulness and curiosity. While their published versions are no longer on record, the memories remain powerful. Several of the involved parties began looking for answers that year. In early 2006, the collaboration had accumulated nearly two dozen documents stating between the 12th century and present day. Spanning four continents. In almost all cases, the stories were identical. I've been in contact with a member of this group and was able to get some excerpts from their upcoming book.

A Suicide Note, 1964 As I prepare to take my life, I feel unnecessary to assuage any guilt or pain I've introduced through this act. It is not the fault of anyone other than him. For once I woke and felt his presence, And once I woke in saw his form, and once again I woke and heard his voice and looked into his eyes. I cannot sleep without fear of what I might next awake to experience. I cannot ever wake. Goodbye.

Found in the same wooden box were two empty envelopes addressed to William and Rose, and one loose purse to letter with no envelope. Dearest Lily, I have prayed for you. He has spoken your name. A journal entry translated from Spanish, 1880. I have experienced the greatest terror. I have experienced the greatest terror. I have experienced the greatest terror. I see his eyes when I close mine.

They are hollow, black. They saw me and pierced me. His wet hand. I will not sleep. His voice, followed by an unintelligible text. A Mariners log, 1691. He came to me in my sleep. From the foot of my bed, I felt a sensation.

He took everything. We must return to England. We shall not return here again at the request of the rake from a witness, 2006. Three years ago, I just returned. Years ago, I just returned from a trip from Niagara Falls with my family for the 4th of July. We were all very exhausted after a long day of driving, so my husband and I put the kids right to bed and called it a night.

At about 4 a.m. I woke up thinking my husband had gotten up to use the restroom. I used the moment to steal back the sheets, only to wake him in the process. I apologized and told him I thought he had got out of bed. When he turned to face me, he danced and put his feet up from the end of the bed so quickly his knees almost knocked me out of the bed. Then he grabbed me and said nothing. After adjusting to the dark for half a second, I was able to see what caused this strange reaction.

At the foot of the bed, sitting and facing away from us, it was what appeared to be a naked man, or a large hairless dog of some sort. Its body position was disturbing and unnatural as if it had been hit by a car or something. For some reason, I was not instantly frightened by it,

The more concerned is to its condition. At this point, I was somewhat under the assumption that we were supposed to help him. My husband was peering over his arm and knee tucked into the fetal position, occasionally glancing at me before returning to the creature. In a fluid motion, the creature scrambled around the side of the bed and then crawled quickly in a flailing sort of motion right along the bed until it was less than a flicked in the husband's face. The creature was completely silent for about thirty seconds.

Probably closer to five, it just seemed like a while. Just looking at my husband. Richard then placed its hand on his knee and ran into the hallway, leading to the kids' rooms. I screamed and ran for the light switch, planning to stop him before he hurt my children. When I got to the hallway, the light from the bedroom was in a messy, crouching and hunched over about 20 feet away.

He turned around and looked directly at me, covered in blood. I flipped the switch on the wall and saw him the daughter Clara. This creature ran down the stairs when my husband and I rushed to help our daughter. She was very badly injured and spoke only once more in her short life. She said, He is the rake. My husband drove his car into a lake that night while rushing our daughter to the hospital.

He did not survive. Being a small town, news got around pretty quickly. The police were helpful at first and the local newspaper took a lot of interest as well. However, the story was never published and the local television news never followed up either. For several months, my son Justin and I stayed in a hotel near my parents' house. After we decided to return home, I began looking for answers myself. I eventually located a man in the next town over who had a similar story. We got in contact and began talking about our experiences.

He knew of two other people in New York who had seen the creature we now referred to as as the Rake. It took the four of us about two solid years of hunting on the internet and writing letters to come up with a small collection of what we believe to be the accounts of the Rake. None of them gave any details, history, or follow-up. One journal had an entry involving the creature in its first three pages and never mentioned it again. A ship's log explaining nothing of the encounter, saying only that they were told to leave

by the rake. That was the last entry in the log. There were, however, many instances where a creature's visit was one of a series of visits with the same person. Multiple people also mentioned being spoke to. My daughter included, this led us to wonder if the rake had visited any of us before our last encounter. I set up a digital recorder near my bed and left it running all night, every night, for two weeks. I would tediously scan through the sound have been rolling around in my bed each day when I woke up. By the end of the second week, I was quite used to the occasional sound of sleep while brewing through the recording at eight times normal speed.

This still took almost an hour every day. On the first day of the third week, I thought I heard something different. What I found was a shrill voice. It was the rake. I can't listen to it long enough to even begin to try and scribe it. I haven't let anyone else listen to it yet. All I know is that I've heard it before. And I now believe that it spoke when it was sitting in front of my husband.

I don't remember hearing anything at the time, but for some reason, the voice on the recorder immediately brings me back to that moment. The thoughts that must have gone through my daughter's head make me very upset. I have not seen the rake since he ruined my life. But I know he's been in my room while I slept. I know and fear that one night I will wake up to see him staring at me. This episode of creepy is presented by the Is Anyone There Podcast. December 21st, 2012.

The zombie infestation sweeps across the globe. Nearly the entire human race is destroyed by the onslaught of undead, leaving a dwindling population to suffer in the wake of chaos and horror. That is the apocalypse. Only two men can save us. Don't guess me. Mon, not, not, not, not, not. Puppet time.

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