Ahrti’bha’s Shadow People
Saw this. Liked it. Must archive it. Author said they wrote it in thread, not before hand, so forgive the spacing and spelling and grammar and whatnot. Enjoy:
I’ve had a problem since I was around 8 years old.
Before you pass this off as another lame-ass, late-night /x/ thread story, just hear me out, because for those of you who are truly curious about the supernatural, I believe this may be intriguing to you.
When I was 8 years old, my mom and her sisters decided they were sick of checking on Grandma and ended up pushing her
into a home. This mean that now with her virtually out of the picture, they could rifle through all of the shit she couldn’t take with her and keep it/pawn it off/wtfever. My mom, being the only one who didn’t rush to scavenge her things, took me along one night to Granny’s to go sift through whatever the Harpies had left behind and clean things up for the realtor she was going to have come in to get ready to sell the house. Before then, I had only been to Grandma’s when I was an infant, and didn’t remember it at all. If I remember it correctly, it was a small, two story farm house.
Blue and white. Built in the style of the early 30s. It was nestled in a cozy little neighborhood in a small Ohio town just a 30s minutes drive from my own. I remember getting out of the car in the old driveway surrounded by lavender bushes and potted plants and thinking how nice everything on the outside looked with it’s rustic, humble appearence and the walls covered in climbing ivy.
When I got inside, however, it was a different story.
Inside it was cold and empty. Living in Northern Ohio, it typically doesn’t get to hot in the summers, so Grandma and Grandpa, being the traditional penny pinching survivors of the Depression, never bothered to instal air conditioning, so the chilly climate indoors seemed a little odd. The yellowed wallpaper stood awkward and naked against the wall, signs of their better days in the reminicent shapes of where picture frames and other such wall hangings once were. Below, the floor boards were dusty, ruined, and left witch round scratches and notches in them where the furniture had been. The whole scene was really sad. I could tell mom felt it too because she just stood there staring at the room she’d spent so many years with her family in and sighed the most pathetic sigh I’ve heard come out of her…(although I’m sure it probably had more to do with the fact that her sisters took all the expensive antique furniture and it was a big signal to her that we were probably going to leave home empty handed.)
Moving onward…we basically ran in circles around the house sifting through useless shit and cleaning. Being 8 and an asshole, I left mom to do everything and walked into the empty kitchen to try and find something to eat. ALl I really found in the dusty cabinents were unidentified canned preserves (Probably FROM the Depression). Discouraged, I slammed the cabinent shut and went to go back to staring at mom scrub floor boards when I heard what sounded like Hyenas.
Immediatly I got that feeling that something was behind me. I knew I probably didn’t want to see it. I definitly knew I didn’t want to turn around…but you know how that goes.So…turning around and following with my eyes to the odd “laughing” my eyes fell upon an old wood burning stove surrounded by ash and dust at the farthest end of the room and then to the eerie darkness that seemed to pool and drip out of the open hatch where the wood was dispensed. THhe sound was clearly coming from in there, as I could hear the ring of the metal as the sounds echoed off of the inner walls of the stove. I just stood there, dumbstruck by what I was hearing and frozen by the eerie feeling that made the palms of my hands sweat. \FInding a sudden small sliver of courage, I tried to NOPE it out of there and bolt for mommy, but when I turned, standing the in the doorway was the silhouette of a figure that seemed to be cut out of the darkness itself. didn’t make any sense looking at it. As if it were there but impossible. (I have no idea how to explain it.) It was freakishly tall, so much so that it had to curve its upper back to keep from colliding its head with the ceiling. Weirder than all that, amidst all this “dark matter” there were hands. Thousands of hands made up this things body, just grasping and clawing at everything around it, all brought together to resemble the crude outline of a person.
Being the obstacle to my only way out, all I could do was stand in the middle of the cold empty kitchen and stare up at it, dumbstruck by what I was seeing. Watching its “bodY” squirm about, I could still hear the hysterical laughter of the”hyenas.”
It swayed side to side slightly, as if dancing or taunting me – daring me to do something. I was just a little kid at the time staring up at a big scary monster, so my only plan of action was to scream for my mother upstairs. I took a deep
breath, opened my mouth wide, and breathed out, screaming as hard as I could, but no sound came out, despite me shaking with the effort of forced air. My pseudo-screaming was cut short as I caught the edge of my breath. The hands that made up the monster’s body all at once closed into fists, and before I could inhale to keep myself from falling over dizzy from my futile efforts for help, the towering abomination opened its many hands and screamed my own voice back at me so loud and so quickly, that I fell back on to the floor and scooted away from it until my back hit the wall. I whimpered and sobbed. my voice being taken from me with the many openings and closings of the monster’s hands, leaving me to only shake with the effort of my hopelessness as this thing just sort of danced in front of me and watched me with the palms of its face.
After a few eternal minutes of this creature’s swaying and kneading, it became still, its palms all flat towards me as if telling me to stop. The hyena’s horrid giggling had ceased. I peered up at its “face” searchingly, finding only expressionless, dark palms ordering me with their gestures. I gathered my knees to myself slowly and swallowed hard, finding my nerve a bit among the stillness, but that too was taken from me as this gargantuan thing fell onto its hands (so to speak) and knees and, with its many flat palms roating in an almost wheel like movement, crawled forward towards me, its massive head shaking and twitching in quick, jerky movements.
I whimpered and held myself, closing my eyes and wishing myself away from it all, but I could feel its many hands grabbing at my ankles. My legs. My hips. My hands. My shoulders. Weighing down onto my chest until I couldn’t breathe. I felt it choking me. My throat being crushed. My nose being pushed flat against my face and breaking, caughing a warm pain to fill me. I felt thumbs in my eyes. Nails piercing as they were focred back into my sockets. All of these horrible sensations hand in hand with silence, helplessness, and fear all within the encasing darkness of this beast as it absorbed me. I have never felt so hopless, so scared, and so much agony in my life before or since, and I remember while stewing in this torture, all I wanted was to go to sleep. Just to sleep and make it go away for awhile.
While within the monster’s body (or that’s where I assume I was) I could hear something liek a heart beat. Familiar, but
off. Behind every characteristic “lub’dub” was the vague reply of another delayed “dub” that was then immediatly followed
by the beginning of the pattern once more. As I couldn’t feel or tell the difference between my finger or my face, I
tried to imagine myself folding up in all this pain and becoming smaller as if the hope and imagining alone would cease
or minimize the purgatory of sensations that plagued my every nerve within the suffocating darkness of the creature’s
cavity. I wanted to imagine I was laying flat on the ground. I didn’t care what sort, as long as there was some earthly
anchor to cling to so that I knew where I was and what I was feeling. I wanted to remember what it was long to move my
fingers or pop my back…because all of those feelings and sensations seemed to escape my mind completely, and that very
thought launched me into a panic that, as I write this, makes me taste bile.
I pleaded with the jumbled fragments of my thoughts, hoping to find at least some sort of relief from this erratic mix of frantic signals my mind couldn’t comprehend…and then suddenly I felt cold. Wetness. Coding began to make sense. My thoughts were beginning to move in one direction. Drool. Movement. My face. My face! I swung my hand up to wipe away the drool running out of my gaping mouth and opened my eyes, watching city street lamps pass over me through the window of the back seat of my mom’s car, each one bringing with it more and more conciousness and thought. I sat upright and rubbed at my tired eyes, my head pounding my jaw tight. I looked at my mom eyeing me in her rear view mirror.
“You up?” Her eyes focused back on the road.
I yawned, my headache worsening for a moment with its force before dying back down. “How did I get in the car?”
Mom turned down a road and I spotted the ancient -Welcome to <name omitted>- sign that brought an unusually calming sense of familiarity to me before she shattered my world with..”You fell asleep in the storage cellar, you goober. You had the mop in your hands and everything.”
What came next was what I imagine trying to shit out your heart would feel like. The cellar entrance was one of the old sort that you had to go outside and through a door on the side of the house to get to. I never recalled exiting the house after I entered it. The fact alone that my mother found me passed out in it was unnerving. I went to sleep that night reluctantly. Every light in my room was on. The tv was blarinf, and I had built a fortress of pillows around my head for comfort. The logical side of my brain sung me into a lullaby of “oh…it was all a bad dream” and I woke up the next morning feeling better than ever and remained that way for a long while with not another weird experience or so much as an eerie feeling…until shortly after my 12th birthday.
I began having nightmares that were strangely linear – they didn’t start off one way and then suddenly become somethin else as most do. Worse than that, they were reoccurring and did so often, first starting out as once every month or so as a random thought popping in admist another weird, forgotten dream, and then quickly spiraling into almost every day. With each day, the dream got longer, revealing more and more each time like a fucked up advent calandar, and for the longest time it was the same thing. I would always wake up in a forest that looked like it had been burned down, but the ashes of the trees still held their shape. The sky was red with embers, and the ground was dark and cracked. It was silent and eerie, and I just sort of walked through this forest of ashes for months and months (as long as it took for more and more of the dream to be revealed) until one of the trees sort of sneezed, and as the ashe flaked away, under it was one of the most horrific things I could have fucking perceived at that age: THe tree was gnarled and rotted, twistiing and circling into sickening shaped until eventually the bark became flesh, and from this bulb of flesh eventually sprouted a faceless, skeletal head…with not face. As it grew and twisted, the bark forced out the beginings of a torso that abruptly stopped mid-developement, and began to green and rot where bark met skin. Looking around me, more and more of these twisted masses began to sprout, some having long branches that reminded me of the diagrams of nerves you would see in a biology text book. Other grew around chunks of metal and litter. Eventually I would be surrounded my these sneezing, fucked up monstrosities until finally, from the charred earth itself, a large caccoon of dead bark and rotting flesh forced its way to the surfacem towering above me.
Much to my dismay, the bark began to crack and break until from the small, forced openings….thousands of tiny blacks
hands began to claw their way out. I remember turning and running through the forest of creatures as they began to
increased and size and scream somewhere through their mouthes covered with skin. Begind me a heard a loud cracking, and
then the earth began to shake. I looked over my shoulder quickly to see a giant, black figure dragging its massive body
across the forest floor with its arms at impossible speeds. I ran and ran and ran through this scenary that semed to loop
as the thing behind me neared Until I woke up, and since, THAT dream hasn’t ever been seen or heard from again.
None the less, that’s when the real weird shit started to happen.
I made my first encounters with the ever beloved “shadow epeople” whom countless on here can give you their own accounts
of. But after awhile, they weren’t content with chilling in my peripherals, only to zoom away when I turned to see them.
Eventually, they just sort of walked around doing whatever the fuck they wanted. Not feeling threatened, I grew use to
their pressence. I would do homework as they walked in and out my room casually as if taking a stroll. I almost began to
feel a comfort in them being there, as I convinced myself they were just spirits left behind.
So far…I can classify my otherwordly visitors into 3 catagories:
Shadow people – Messengers – Bad fucking sign – The more they show up, the more accumulates. The more of them that
accumulate, the more spiritual energy, the more spiritual energy, the more other things can get through.
Glass – the silhoette of a person that is barely there, it’s only detectability being in that whatever you see when you
looking through it looks slightly distorted as if looking through glass – What comes through when shadow people
congregate – these guys generally run around and fuck shit up = causing things to break, electrical surges, unexplaine
phenomenon, disembodied voices = classic ghost shit
Nobodies (Not to be associated with KH in any way..) – bald humanoids with lanky limbs, grey skin, and pale eyes – look down at me from windows and rooftops and out of cars – I still have no idea wtf they are but they freak me out….
About the Author
Juan Soto enjoys reading mangas over watching animes, listening to what pleases me, majoring in Int'l Economic Policy with concentration in german, loves soccer, and plays video games for the story and not the the challenge. Yes, he is casual.