My Shadow Man Experience

My Shadow Man Experience

They say when you are younger, you are more connected to the supernatural. When you have an open mind and an open heart, you will notice some things that most adults can say, “that’s not true, don’t say things like that.” From one of my many experiences, I shared with my mother I was truly devastated that she didn’t believe my story.

The reason why this title is called, “My Shadow Man Experience” is because I saw a short documentary this year about who the Shadow Man was. They also say it can be the SlenderMan from those creepy youtube videos. I’m guilty of watching a few when I was in my last year of elementary school because it was such a trend back then. When I started doing a little research about this man, it literally described one of my most horrifying stories as a child.

I was only 9 years old at the time. I would describe myself as a quiet child, obedient, and content with myself. (I don’t think my parents knew I would grow up to be so rebellious because of how innocent I was as a kid). I have a brother that’s just one year younger than I am and we played together a lot because we really only had each other most of the days. We were pretty close and yes we fought, but that’s what siblings do. I don’t remember fighting often, but I remember it was only small silly things.

One night we both went to bed around the same time and my brother and I shared the same room. It was pretty spacious, he was on the right side of the room and I was on the left side. I had a door below my feet on the left side of the wall and another door across from me. The room was a size of a 300 ft studio apart (I wish I had a big room again). I don’t remember what time it was because there was no clock in our rooms, but that night, I suddenly felt a presence around my body and woke up in the middle of the night. As I slowly opened my eyes, I saw my brother hovering over me and I didn’t have my blanket on top anymore. For that second I opened my eyes, I noticed both his hands curled up together above his head like he’s holding an object. That split second, it already applied to me that I’m fucked. I just woke up, he has a knife and I can’t roll over in time. He stabbed me through my stomach really hard and I curled into a ball breathing for air. When I was fully awake there was no knife, just a painful punch to the stomach. As I curled into a ball I looked at him as he walked back into bed across from mine. He slowly grabbed his blankets to go back to bed, but before laying down he stared at me dead in the eyes. As we glared at each other, his eyes turned bright red as if it was the devil's eyes that took over his body that night. It shimmered into a bright red light. It was like looking into a man with no soul. And as his eyes turned into blood, his body also turned into a pitch-black silhouette. Finally, he turned around and went back to sleep.

I was horrified, shocked, and stunned. I ran out of there and went into the living room and my mother was awake watching tv. I remember I stood there for a second asking, “Was she going to hurt me too?” She didn’t and I told her, “My brother hit me in the stomach and pretended to stab me.” All I got out of her was, “What? He would never do that.”

I was devastated that she didn’t want to talk about it more, that I was a silly 9-year-old girl making up stories or dreaming about it. I’m 26 years old now and it’s still embedded into my mind until this day.

So tell me, why would a little girl make up a murder story and why do I still remember this like it was just yesterday?