Unwlecome Shadow

When I was fourteen, my mother and my elder brother by two years both had huge meltdowns. Mom was diagnosed with Bipolar, and my brother, Schizophrenia. I had been aware of the entities passing through our house for around a year; there had always been tension in the place, a coldness that couldn’t be rid with a heater or blanket. Our family was a broken one, and every relationship was strained, especially with my brother.

He did not at all handle his disorder well. He became very violent, acting out aggressively to anyone who touched him, and began to manipulate us all. His doctors said it was the disorder talking, but I being on the sensitive side plugged into it and fell into slight depression and anxiety.

After about half a year, I noticed that those entities that had once come to and left the house were now taking a specific interest in the relationship between my brother and I. They decided they’d stay.

Shadows, silhouettes, figures in hoods, small beings that ran around, you name it; it was like my and his bedrooms (which were connected) had become a buffet of negativity to thrive off of.

But as who or whatever in the house helped put that extra strain on carefree living, one shadow stood out from the rest. This one watched me, from the moment I’d enter my bedroom to when I left.

It began as what looked like a lump, blacker than black, hanging from the ceiling. It grew over the next few weeks. I watched, frozen with dread out of the corner of my eye as it slowly became this huge, hunched figure, seven feet high at least. After it began standing on the floor, it began to move. But wherever in my room it travelled, it was always watching. When I went to bed, it would bend over the side, keeping an inch away from my face, blowing in my ear, mumbling under its breath.

My friend, who had the previous year put me in the path to seeking protection came over to stay one night. She carried my cat down to my room, and stopped a few feet away from the door. I looked back at her, she’d turned white as a sheet. The cat howled and clawed its way away from her, bolting outside.

"Can we sleep in the Loungeroom?" She asked, "There’s something in there."

I told her I knew, and that I needed help. That whatever that thing was, it was shattering me emotionally.

She agreed to come back and brought a sack of crystals with her, mostly amethysts, and a few sticks of incense.

That night, while we were chatting, I could feel the figure getting angry, as if it were radiating; pulsating even. My friend and I looked at each other unsurely, but carried on, joking and playing around until she suddenly cringed and clapped both hands over her ears. A moment after, my television set flew off the counter and onto my bed, and my friend ran out. She later told me that it began screaming at her to leave.

After that, there was no more physical activity. It shrank back, watching whilst keeping its distance from me. My brother was put in an institution, and so I built up the courage to tell the unwelcome stranger to get out of my house. It did so reluctantly, as there was no strength to draw now that the cause of my stresses was away for a while.

To this day I cant put my finger on what that thing was: Shadow person, spirit, I dunno. But having a 3-D manifestation of your own suffering being mirrored back at you with a consciousness of its own is pretty nasty.

I’m now eighteen, and I’ve learned from my first personal encounter not to take these negative entities so seriously. Even so, having a "something" watching you 24/7 with a case of Steve Buscemi eyes is creepy . If anyone might help me figure out what it could have been, I’d greatly appreciate it!

Submitted by Nickee, VIC, Australia