yessleep

Part 1

https://new.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1btz9xc/dont_look/

I worked up the courage to return to the house yesterday. I’m not ashamed to admit that I had to take 3 shots from a bottle of whiskey my grandfather had left behind to do so, not enough to get me drunk or lose my wits, but just enough to help with the fear.

I stood outside, staring at the house, and trying to will myself to go in, but the intense feeling of almost supernatural dread, combined with all the memories flooding back, locked me in place, all the good before that night, and terrors of the nights that followed.

I eventually decided I couldn’t go back in, and turned to leave, noticing a man standing several yards away with tears in his eyes also staring at the house.

He must be a few years older than me, a naturally handsome and tall man, with short blonde hair and stubble covering his face, though he looked a bit thin and ragged, with dark bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept or eaten in days.

I froze, and stared at him for a time, feeling an intense sense of familiarity, even though I know I’ve never met him before. I thought it might just be my PTSD driven delusions, and my current environment stirring up false assumptions, but I swear he reminded me of the shadow boy, like the grown up version I imagined of him when we were kids and thinking about what he’d be like when we got married one day. Except this man appeared greatly sadder than the happy husband I had imagined.

After a minute or two of staring at the house, he noticed me from the corner of his eye, and turned to face me, immediately beginning to panic as he wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand and turned to leave.

“Hey, wait!” I called out as I started following after him.

His pace quickened as he crossed the street.

“Wait! Do you know me?” I asked as I followed him across the street, a driver on the road having to stomp on their brakes to avoid hitting me, and blaring their horn in frustration.

I continued on, determined not to lose him.

He bothered one look back, and then his pace increased so much that I was sure he was about to break into a sprint.

“Do you know about the shadows!?” I screamed in desperation.

He froze in place, coming to a dead stop, and slowly turned back to face me with a horrified look on his face.

I finished catching up to him, maintaining a reasonable space of a few feet’s distance as I caught my breath and clutched my hand to my chest.

“How do you know?” He asked in abject terror, his green-hazel eyes wet with tears.

“I just want answers to what happened to me and my family,” I responded. “Please, if you know anything, just tell me. I get the feeling we might have more in common than either of us knows.”

He thought for a minute, his eyes beginning to wander, and I couldn’t help but think he sometimes saw things that weren’t really there. “Let’s grab coffee and talk,” He finally decided. “Away from here,” He added after several seconds, daring a look back at the house.

I agreed.

As we walked, him hurrying away in the opposite direction of the house, and my much shorter legs struggling to keep up with his pace, I observed his body language. He was in constant survival mode, and you could tell. His shoulders were raised and tense. His hands were stuffed into the belly pockets of his baggy gray hoody. And he constantly seemed to mumble or whisper to himself inaudibly.

We ended up walking for what I would guess was about 2 or 3 miles before I noticed we were passing by a small coffee shop, and called out to him.

He had clearly been so lost in his own mind that he was hurrying right past it without realizing, desperate to create distance between himself and the house. Though, to his credit, when I called out to him and pointed out the coffee shop, he immediately acknowledged me, snapped back into the moment, and gentlemanly held the door open for me, before following me inside.

I ordered my typical drink, an iced caramel frappe, and he ordered the strongest black coffee they had. After getting our respective drinks and setting down, he grew lost in his mind again for a few minutes, the sadness and moisture in his eyes never receding as he stared off nervously and rapidly moved his lips in small and hard to comprehend motions, though no sound ever escaped him. I decided to give him his space, and let him take his time, feeling incredible compassion for him, even if I didn’t fully understand why.

It turned out we were more similar than I could have ever imagined.

The shadows had come for him too, when he was a young teen. Though, in a different house, and a different city. I don’t intend to reveal his personal details and information, however.

When they had, they took his little brother.

He explained to me that his brother, although a few years younger, had a much more adventurous and curious spirit than him. So, when they came, he grew scared, averted his eyes, and hid, while his brother looked, vanishing, his clothes falling to the ground just as they had to my family.

Since then, he has struggled with intense survivor’s guilt his entire life, and never moved on, always blaming himself for having not saved his little brother. Same as me, no one believed him about what had really happened. Different from me, however, due to his parents’ reliance on sleeping pills, they hadn’t woken up through the night when the shadows came for them, so they had not been taken like mine had.

After his brother’s disappearance, his parents ended up selling their home and moving out of state to my city (which I will also keep private to avoid anyone attempting to find the house).

Months after the incident, he’d began seeing his little brother as a shadow coming to visit him, but no others arrived with him like they had that night. At first, this terrified him, and drove him mad. But over time, he began to believe that it really was his brother, and that he wasn’t there to take him like the others had been.

They would begin talking in the dark at night, as he had horrible sleep issues ever since the event. His little brother would tell him about a friend he made, and ask him to follow him to my house to meet her. At first, he would refuse, scared that it could be a trick. But eventually, he gave in, following his brother to my home at night and watching as he phased through the door to go inside, his little brother apparently excitedly laughing the whole way there. He came to the conclusion that these were grief hallucinations he was having after his little brother went inside, and would leave, never coming to the door.

The last time he saw his little brother’s shadow, he came to him crying, saying that it happened again to his friend’s family, that it was all his fault for leading them there. He said that it was dangerous to be around him, and that he must stay alone in the dark forever to protect people.

After that, he’d begin to miss his brother, and wish he had interacted with him more while he was still around, even as a shadow. He often finds himself wandering back to my house, but he could never bring himself to knock on the door or try and go inside, even though sometimes, at night, he could swear he’d hear his little brother’s crying coming from within.

During our conversation, where I also shared my experience with him, I debated on telling him about the shadow boy, or whether I should leave him out to protect this grief stricken man, ultimately deciding he deserved to know the full truth. And I was glad I did, learning that his brother had also recently begun playing with an imaginary friend at night, before all of this had happened to the both us. He would come out at night and see or hear him, and just laugh it off as his brother’s powerful imagination, leaving him be to play.

Sharing every detail with him, we both eventually came to the conclusion that the little boy in the shadows was indeed his brother, and that I was the friend he would come to visit.

It took a lot of debate, and much fear and reservation on both our ends, but we ultimately decided to go back into the house together, to look for his brother, and the answers we both seek in two days from now.

I debated on whether or not to continue updating anyone who read my story, or if it was better kept to myself, but I ultimately decided that I would see this through to the end, and share any answers I find with anyone that is willing to listen.

You’ll hear more from me in a few days, so long as the worst doesn’t happen.