I'm not sure if this should go under Dreams, Urban Legends, or Here, but this seemed the most appropriate place.
I'm curious if other people have seen Shadow People before, and if so, could you please relate your story. Mine are as such:
They first visited me when I was only a few years old. I donít remember, exactly, and my parents refuse to recall it ever happening. I was laying in
bed, in the middle of the night, when I woke up to find a strange man inside my bedroom. I screamed for my mom and dad, and the man stepped forward,
knocking over a small lamp that served as a dim nightlight at the base. Then the whole room went dark. Mom and Dad came sleepily into the room,
opening my door, and turned on the room-light. There was no one in the room but us. Only a broken lamp gave any indication of the intruder. The Shadow
Person had not exited through the window, unless he also managed to close the blinds behind him and re-lock the burglar bars. I had a habit of
sneaking out of my room at night. and as such, my parents put a lock on the outside of my door. And before you ask, he wasnít hiding anywhere in the
room, either, or the closet, or under the bed. As to where he went, I donít know. My parents said it was just a nightmare I had, and the lamp just
fell over in my sleep. In fact, they said, it probably caused the nightmare in the first place. This could be, and for the longest time, I believed
it, until it happened again...
The second time was back when I was in college school. Some friends and I were sharing a joint out in the woods near our apartments one weekend night,
and it appeared in the trees off in the distance. There we were, having a few laughs, passing it around, when something rustles the branches in the
trees. Everyone gets real quiet, because we thought it might be a cop. Weíre staring at the trees, and thereís a figure there, just watching us.
Everyone starts getting real nervous, and now weíre wondering if itís actually a person there, or not because itís not moving, and the shadows do
funny things to the eyes sometimes. Then it just sort of melts away and the rustling comes closer. The grass was fairly tall, maybe waist-height, and
something was moving towards us through it.
íIs that a dog?í One of my friends, Tara, asked, worried. No one was moving. If it was just a dog, that left us without the worry of it being
arrested, only mauled. Someone else, Keane, suggested it might be a wolf. Then it stood up, and I nearly shat myself, because it was the same creature
that visited me in my bedroom over a decade previously. Iím not sure which of us ran fastest, because none of us saw much of anything but a blur till
we got back to Taraís apartment.
Everyone was saying things like íOh my god, what the hell was that?í Elizabeth, another friend, threw up. Everybody was pale as a sheet. Even
Keane, mister I-want-to-be-H.R.-Geiger-himself was shaking he was scared so bad. We all were. Just to be sure we wouldnít influence each other, we
wrote down what we saw, and read it aloud. All of us saw the same thing: a figure, with smooth, black, slightly iridescent skin, with no facial
features. Some of us saw a little more, but as I'm trying to take a fairly scientific approach to this, I'll avoid the metaphysics.
The third time occurred a couple of years later, when I had a room in a student co-op that was so small, there was barely even room to change my mind.
Seriously, though, there was room for a mattress, a chest of drawers, and one chair, but at least one leg of the chair had to rest on the mattress.
God, I hated that room. I hated the whole house. There was a flea problem, but because it was a hippy commune, they refused to use anything serious to
get rid of the fleas. They would try things like herbs to try and get them out of the den. To a degree, it worked, except my room was right next to
the denÖ Sorry, Iím rambling. Anyway, I awoke one night to find one by the door. I was exhausted, and scared. I tried to scream, but I couldnít. My
eyes were so heavy, and I was so tired. I started to fall back asleep. As I drifted towards unconsciousness my eyes fluttered open and I saw then that
it was now on the foot of my bed, leaning over my legs, with one hand on the wall, and the other reaching towards me. Then my throat managed to wake
up enough to let out what my friends described later as a primal yell, and I made the lights come on. I don't mean I flipped a switch, or did a
"clap-on-clap-off-the-clapper" thing, I mean that suddenly every light in the house turned on, as I was howling. I was still in bed, the nearest
electrical outlet was by the door to my glorified closet, but as I live and breath, every light in that house turned on to the brightest setting, and
the creature disappeared. I managed to get the rest of my muscles working, and ran out of the room. Gabe, who had also been there that night in the
woods, was staying in the same co-op, met me in the den. He was always kinda odd, fit in perfectly with the hippy crowd, but a very good friend. Kind
of spacey, actually. Iíve always accepted the metaphysical with a sort of resigned attitude, but he dwells in it. Sometimes I wonder if itís just so
much BS, but he believes whereas I accept. You know what I mean? Anyway, Gabe comes with me to the room, as Iím telling him the story, and Iím pacing
back and forth. ĎYou say he had one hand on the wall?í Gabe said, as I took Murgatroyd, my pet python, out of her cage. ĎYeah,í I said. ďI donít know
if the other hand was reaching towards me or what.í Then he turns around and says ĎI think he was reaching for you.í And I ask Ďwhy do you say that?í
and he says, airily, that thereís a bloody handprint on the wall. I take a look, and sure enough, itís right there, where the creature's hand was.
The fingers were too long. I don't recall there being a thumb. At one point I had a photo, but the ravages of the last decade worth of moving
constantly lost it along the way.
The fourth incident was probably the most disturbing. I was dating a woman with three kids. I honestly donít remember their names now, but at the
time, I was like their father. Their old man had been very physically abusive to them and their mom, and the lot of them didnít even realize it wasnít
their fault. Had he not driven off the road one night, he might be beating them to this day. I didnít piece all this together till much later, but
while I was dating her, I noticed they all pretty much took suggestions from me like they were orders.
Her kids were wild and violent, but also very obedient to me. Their mother, Starla, couldnít manage to keep them under control without screaming, but
all I had to do was open my mouth, and it was a completely different transformation. It was, slightly disconcerting as I was raised in a family of
independent thinkers. We all respected our father, and obeyed both parents, so it was something I would naturally expect of a child to a parent. But I
wasnít his parent. I wasnít even married to his mother. I was just the boyfriend she had. Iím sure she wanted it to be more, but as youíll soon
understand, it didnít work out. One of her kids, though, was really weird. He drew lots of monsters, things like rabbits with bloody fangs and bat
wings. He said they lived in the trees outside their apartment. I think his name was Adam.
Anyway, Adam rarely spoke, except to tell me about the monsters. He never told anyone else about them. I guess itís because when he spoke, I
listened, instead of assuring him that they were just in his imagination. Iíd ask his questions about them. Itís a totally different story when you
have your own monsters to deal with.
Well, the boys had a thing about sneaking in to try and watch Starla and I try to get intimate. It struck me as sick, and wrong, but she just took it
with the good-natured disposition of someone resigned to kids being kids. One night when I was staying over, I heard one of the boys begin to scream.
I was out the door in a heartbeat, and saw Adam curled into a little ball by the door to the boysí bedroom. He was pitching a fit, and pointing at me.
I assumed right away heíd seen his mother and I, so I sat down to try and explain it to him, but he just kept crying.
íItís okay,í I said. ĎI wasnít hurting her. Iíd never hurt any of you. When a man and a woman loveÖ when they are grown upÖ ummmÖí I was trying to
think of a way to explain the birds and the bees to him when he cries out ĎI donít care that you and momma were sexiní, he shouts, Ďjust make the
Black Men leave!í It felt like heíd struck me, and I realized he was pointing behind me, not at me. I turned around, expecting an attack from the
burglar, and flicked the hall-light on. It was empty. I turned back towards Adam and asked ĎWhat black man? Where?í and he shakes his head. ĎNot a
black man,í he said, between sniffles, ĎThe Black Men. They started showing up when you did.
Memories came back, and I thought I was going to throw up. Starla asked if everything was okay, and I told her it was fine, that Adam was just having
a nightmare, and I was going to make him some chocolate milk. Instead, I got him his crayons and some paper. ĎDraw them for me, please,í I asked. Adam
was a remarkably talented artist at his age. Given another few years, and some formal training, he could have been a comic-book artist. When he
finished drawing the Black Men, I did throw up, right there in the sink. I'd never before said a single word regarding the Shadow People, yet he'd
drawn them with perfect accuracy.
So... what do I believe them to be? I don't know. I'm convinced they aren't human, they appear to be capable of physically affecting objects, yet
insubstantial whenever total darkness or bright light is used. I'd never had a name for them until Adam, and for some years now, just referred to
them as The Black Men, his epithet for them. But then, in sharing my story, another said "Oh, you mean Shadow People". Given some thought, I believe
this may be a more accurate monicker for them, as they have the same properties, in appearance and disappearance, as shadow. I don't believe they are
particularly good or evil; they fill me with paralytic dread when I experience them, but this could be due to simply experiencing something so alien,
so outside our comfort realm of reality, that it stuns me. I do not know if they are ghosts, demons, angels, or extra-dimensional beings, or even
rare, naturally occuring creatures in an ecology science has yet to document. I simply don't know, and I don't believe anyone has a satisfactory
answer just yet.
What I would like, is not to be given spells to ward them off. I don't want people spinning me tales of how they are psychic vampires, or guardian
angels. Nor do I want people telling me they are MiBs in some mind-control plot (unless, of course you have hard tangible, scientific evidence of
these). What I am looking for are people with similar experiences who have witnessed this phenomena, or have found some other property of these
creatures that I have yet to mention. There are web sites out there regarding Shadow People that are easily enough found through search engines, but
this seems to be a fairly well-educated crowd with enough curiosity and skepticism combined to give me reasonable replies.