Since I was young, strange things have been following me. It has not been easy to come out and talk about them due to their nature and worry of judgment. I haven’t been able to find a reliable outlet to speak to when it comes to them, but someone recently told me about this site, and now is as good of a time as any. I am still figuring out these things, but I will call them shadows for convenience. When I say they are strange, I would love to point out that I am generous with my wording.
I was about ten years old when I first encountered a shadow. On a hot summer’s day in the middle of august, my family decided to go for a picnic. At the time, there were five of us: My Mother, Father, and my two sisters. They had packed a ton of food and decided our picnic place would be in the park.
I was personally excited. We hadn’t done much as a family since mom was always working, so I was a kid with his shoes on fifteen minutes before we were ready to go. My sisters didn’t share the same love since they were honestly a little bit spoiled, but it was of no consequence to me. We had gotten everything packed up and put in the van, driving to the local park as I had the biggest smile on my face.
When we got there, we walked a bit and found the perfect spot. They set out the blanket and bag, and we all sat down as a family for the first time in months. They pulled out the sandwiches and passed them around, and I remember eating, feeling the happiest I have ever felt. I remember that day so well—the good and the bad, but most of all, the boy.
Once I finished my sandwich, feeling pretty satisfied since I had finished before my sisters, I felt odd. Something was bugging me, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I started looking around, feeling a bit cold as I examined my environment, before seeing something off-putting at the base of the hill we had set up on.
It was a young boy, maybe about my age. He was about as tall as me and seemed to watch us eat curiously. I couldn’t quite make out his face at first, so I waved at him while smiling as I looked at a potential friend. He waved back, lifting his head and revealing more of his face. I cannot stress this enough, but when he lifted his head, it felt like time had stopped for a moment, allowing me time to register his face.
It was me.
Well, it was me, but he also looked different. Even though he mainly wore the same things as me, his shirt had a few more rips and wrinkles than mine. He also had pure white eyes that continued to stare at me as his mouth formed some twisted grin that could be compared to the look you give when you’d stub your toe, smiling instead of scowling through the pain. It was horrifying and scared the shit out of me then, and that was before he started sprinting up the hill at me.
I jumped backwards and fell on top of the picnic and the contents of the blanket, screaming and sobbing in absolute fear. The kid ran up to the top quickly, being closer and showing what he looked like more clearly. He resembled me but had sharp teeth, looking like a demon child you would see in horror movies. He seemed partially melted and malleable as he ran up to me, stopping a foot away and staring straight down at me.
We kept eye contact as I tried to back away, but my body stopped responding to the commands I was giving. Suddenly, it crouched down and was a foot away from my face, smiling and breathing heavily. I had tears streaking down my face, sobbing and crying hard as I yelled at it to go away.
After the moment passed, it let out a coarse yet harsh scream, yelling directly at me and hitting me with some saliva before disappearing into thin air. I curled into a ball as I sobbed, freaking out as my mother was holding me and crying herself, but not for the same reason I was.
I found out a few moments later what my parents were seeing. They were watching me scramble back, freaking out and sobbing. My dad being the father he is tried to hold me and calm me down. When he touched me, I twisted and swung my hands up at him, hitting his neck with a knife that had appeared in my hand, ultimately slitting his throat. Mom was holding his head on her lap as she called the police, trying to stop the bleeding and rubbing my shoulder, sobbing loudly.
My dad didn’t make it to the hospital. He died at the picnic, and it was all my fault. I didn’t even know what happened and still feel confused about the entire situation. I remember an ambulance coming and picking him up, driving him away as the police approached my mother, and then me.
I was a kid, so when I was brought in, the police asked me where I got the knife. I didn’t know, so I responded accordingly. I told them my entire side of the story, which led me to get a psych evaluation on me, which responded clear, showing I wasn’t schizophrenic. The psychologists expressed nothing made sense, so I insisted it was my friend to no avail.
Time went by as my friend showed up more and more. He would come during meals and smile at me from the corner or during walks and stand on the other side of the street. Over and over and over, he did this so many times. Thankfully, he was never as bad as the first time, so I considered myself lucky.
And that brings us to tonight. I am writing this, still shaking and terrified, as five bodies are now in my room. I had an encounter with the shadow earlier, but this was the first time he ran at me in decades, being older and so much faster. I blacked out this time, walking home from work, and I lost about five hours. So here I sit for the final time, a handwritten note from ME saying I killed them (which I didn’t) and a revolver to the right of my laptop.
My name is Nathan, and I am 55. The odds of anyone believing my words are immeasurably low, so I quit. I am taking matters into my own hands tonight and plan to end this torture altogether. I hope this finds you well. I love you, mom. I love you, Clair and Millie. But no one will believe me.
Goodbye.