Camp Monsters - The Shadowman

Episode Date: August 3, 2022

You’re tucked away in your bunk at Camp Whileaway when you notice a shadowy figure in the corner of your room. You can’t take your eyes off it. You wish you could run, scream and cry out for help, but you know you won’t be able to… that’s one of the powers of the Shadowman.Welcome to Camp Monsters Summer Camp. Over the past few seasons of the show, we’ve gotten tons of suggestions on the monsters we should cover. We noticed that a lot of these take place at a summer camp. So we’ve collected the best of the stories you’ve sent — and researched a few of our own — to create our first series of legendary summer camp creatures. Hopefully you can take these episodes with you to summer camp, or let them take you back to the days when you were a camper, scared of what might be lurking outside of your cabin.This year’s sponsor is YETI. Check out all of their amazing gear in store or at REI.com. Pack it up - Shop YETI Camp CoolersDrink it in - Shop YETI Drinkware

This is an REI Co-op Studios production. You blink your eyes, slowly open. Where are you? Oh, yes, you're tucked snugly in your bunk at Camp Wile-A-Way. What time is it? After midnight. The porch light filters through the old fabric of the curtains, casting the dimmest orange glow across the room.

So dim that it's hard to see anything but shadows. Shadows. Shadows. You find yourself staring at the shadows, especially that one over in the far corner. And as you stare, your heart begins to beat fast and faster. You wait for it.

For that. Something. The something you've seen before. In the shadows over there. You're certain that. Any moment now. It's going to appear. And then it's going to move.

It's going to float across the room toward you. And when it does, all you'll want to do is scream. Cry out for help. Scramble up and run away. But you know. You know you won't be able to. That's one of the powers of the Shadow Man. This is the Camp Monsters Podcast.

Well, here we are. Around the fire at Camp Wile-A-Way in southern Wisconsin. Before you search the internet for it, I should remind you that all the camps and campers mentioned this season have fictitious names, and any similarity between them and real-life people or places is purely coincidental. Anyway, here we are at what we'll call Camp Wile-A-Way. It's like a thousand other summer camps across the country. It's got a big open field fringed by woods with trails running through them. It has a swimming pool and the fire pit we're all sitting around now. It has neat little cabins and a mess hall.

If you listen hard, you can hear the frogs trilling down by the lake. Camp Wile-A-Way has it all, including its very own legendary creature. Sam was the one who told me that story of Camp Wile-A-Way. Sam was 13 when I met her, with black hair and a glint in her dark eyes. And a voice so quiet I had to lean my ear down almost against her lips to hear her.

Her lips and her eyes, she said. Those are the only parts of her body she could always rely on. Sometimes even that reedy whisper of a voice failed her, but she could always count on her lips to go on making silent shapes in the air. You see, the rest of Sam's body had been twisted uncomfortably into a large power wheelchair by one of those cruel syndromes that knock you down in childhood and then hover over you like a prize fighter, waiting to hammer you back to the canvas every time you start to struggle up.

Oh, that's the other thing about Camp Wileyway. It's like a thousand other summer camps across the country, but the whole place is set up so that kids in situations like Sam's can have a full summer camp experience. The cabins are all accessible. the pool has a gradual entry, the trails are paved, and every kid who needs it has their own personal counselor with them 24-7. Camp Willoway is quite a special place. And Sam is special too. I didn't know it when we first started talking though I should have read it in her eyes Sam knows a secret that most of us never learn

she learned it last summer right here at Camp Wile-A-Way lucky for me Sam had heard about the Camp Monsters podcast so she told me her story Sam said it started with a wonderful dream. She couldn't remember the dream's details, just that it was one of those where you get to do things you never even realized you wanted to do until you dreamed them. Where everything happens naturally and effortlessly, and just in his right place. Whatever was in that dream was so nice that when the sound in Sam's cabin woke her,

the first thing she did was try to fall back asleep, to fall back into that dream. But then she noticed that the cabin door was open. Spilled out across the floor by the foot of Sam's bed was a bright pool of orange light pouring in from the porch light through the cabin's open front door. Sam felt the fresh coolness of midnight ripple past her face, smelled the watered grass, heard the frogs singing, tasted the dark blue of a world recovering from the sun.

So that was the sound that had woken her, the latch of the door clicking as it opened. Sam tried to move her head to glance at the doorway, but found that she couldn't. Well, waking up paralyzed might frighten you or me, but not Sam. Her condition sometimes produced brief periods of paralysis. So she waited patiently for the symptoms to pass and examined what she could see without moving her head. Like the other three beds in the cabin, that would tell her who was up and about. But... Hmm. Her roommate, Ratty? Tell her who was up and about. But, hmm.

Her roommate, Ratty. Ratty's counselor, Sam's counselor. One, two, three. Three shapes. Obviously bodies, loosely sleeping forms. Filled all three beds. So no one from Sam's cabin had left or come back, and the door was still standing open. Sam waited for someone to step into the doorway, waited for

a silhouette to break the surface of the orange light that pooled across the floor. When a long stretch of seconds passed and nothing happened, Sam began to think up explanations. Maybe another counselor out on rounds had opened the door and then been called away. Maybe someone from Sam's cabin hadn't quite closed the door earlier and a stray breath of wind had blown it open. Maybe the latch was weak. Any of those things could have been true. And yet,

Sam felt an unaccountable fear begin to bubble up from deep within her frozen body. It seemed to her that the orange light from the porch was unusually bright. Or was it that the rest of the cabin had grown darker? Were those shadows in the corner always so deep, so impenetrable? Sam tested her voice, tried to ask who was there, loudly, so that the others in the cabin would wake up too. But her throat was as frozen as her body, and

not a sound came out. And all the time, she was staring down at the orange light on the floor and waiting. Slowly, so slowly that Sam wasn't sure she saw it at first. A shadow began to appear at the bottom of the light that poured in from the porch. Slower than the minute hand on a clock, the shadow spread upward as whatever cast it slid slowly into the doorway. Long before the full silhouette spilled across the floor, Sam could identify it. She knew what cast that shadow. That is, she knew what people called it. As to what the thing was, she hadn't the faintest idea. But the name, the title of an old ghost story that one of the counselors had told around the campfire, that name floated into Sam's head. The Shadow Man.

And as she looked at the tall, thin shadow that had finally, finally filled the frame of light from the door, somehow Sam knew. It was the Shadow Man. The Shadow Man was here. The silhouette outlined in the light on the floor was not like any other shadow Sam had ever seen. It wasn't just shade filled with a bounce of light from the source that cast it. This shadow on the floor was black,

bottomless, a perfect void, a nothingness that the orange light around it was powerless to illuminate. Sam felt like if you touched that void, or if it touched you, you'd fall in, fall endlessly into, into what Sam didn't know and didn't want

to imagine. The Shadow Man was moving a little faster now, like a wary stranger who has opened an unknown door and found it was the one they were looking for. As it came into the room, Sam caught her first glimpse of the thing itself, the thing that cast the shadow. It had the shape of a person, very tall and very thin, with arms hanging limply at its side and hands hidden in the sleeves of some dark garment. She couldn't see its face, couldn't see its features, couldn't see its eyes, but though it had the shape of a person, Sam felt, Sam knew it couldn't be human. Sam was working her lips almost foaming with the effort to speak to scream stop, stop

to make any kind of sound that might wake the others but nothing came except except the shadow man coming ever closer across the floor. When it reached the very center of the room, just feet from where Sam lay, wide-eyed with horror,

the shadow man stopped. And then began to turn. Slowly. Slowly. Toward Sam? She couldn't tell. Then, no. No, it was heading toward her roommate Ratty's bed.

Wake up! Look out! Sam thought as loudly as she could, which was as silent as any thought. Though her body was frozen, still and rigid, her mind thrashed in anxiety. Ratty was Sam's friend, and the desperation Sam felt to help her, to make a sound, to do anything, became so intense that tears of rage and frustration slid from Sam's eyes and mingled with the sweat that already beaded on her face,

in spite of the cool night that wafted from the open door. Sam watched in mute panic as the shadow man hovered over Ratty's bed. What it was doing Sam couldn't see. He seemed to carry darkness with it, and whatever part of the room it was in became so dim that it was impossible to see anything. Anything but shadows. But then, back in the darkness that had gathered over Ratty's bed, at first Sam thought it was a trick of the light,

something refracting through the prism of tears that welled in her eyes, but when she blinked them clear, there it was again. The moon? Yes. No. Something like the moon.

Like a crescent moon. With two small, bright stars shining just above it. Shining out from the darkness of the shadow man cast. Then Sam blinked again and saw. Saw the shadow bending low so low directly over Ratty as she lay in her bed and saw Ratty the crescent moon of her smile

and the twinkling stars of her eyes coolly grinning back into the creature's face. Despite Ratty's composure, Sam's soul writhed against the image. She was certain that Ratty was in horrible, mortal danger. Sam had to, she had to do something, she had to wake someone. She'd scream if she was able. She'd cry. And the tears did flow down her face, but all that her efforts were able to produce was the smallest, thinnest squeak. It was enough, though not in the way Sam intended.

The pure, dark outline of the shadow man's head floated slowly up from Ratty and pointed toward Sam. Then the whole tall figure slowly rose. Rose and glided across the floor toward Sam's bed. And as it came, every thought left her. The confused memory of Ratty's staring eyes fled with the rest of Sam's mind, and what came to fill the void of thought was pure, uncontrollable fear. Fear that trembled Sam's muscles and

dragged her breath through involuntary gulps of terror. As the thing, the darkness, the shadow man, drew up beside her bed, bare inches away, a last breath left her lungs in a shuddering sigh, and her terrified body forgot to draw another one as she realized that the thing was reaching for her. A thin, horrible arm, still shrouded in something like clinging black smoke, rose from the shadow man's side and reached for her face. Closer.

Closer. Closer. If she could breathe, she would smell it now, so close to her face. No! In the last instant, Sam's body reacted, and she was able to tear her head away from the creature and turn it to face the cabin's wall.

The movement was so sudden and so unexpected that Sam knew if she'd been dreaming, then that was the spasm of waking. But she couldn't bring herself to turn back to the room to check, to see if she was awake, to find out if the horrible shadow man was still there. She lay with her

face to the wall and her eyes shut tight, hoping that she'd awakened, hoping that nothing would happen. Wanting to slowly calm down. But then she felt it. On the back of her head. In her hair. Like a large, wet scorpion. Picking its way slowly. Cautiously through the tangles. Towards her face.

She shut her eyes tighter, willed it not to be real, tried and failed to scream, tried to think of what else she could do. Knew that there was nothing that she could do. And as soon as she realized that, she felt long, cold,

wet fingers grip the side of her face. The touch was so icy, so shocking, so revolting that without realizing what she was doing, Sam gasped in a great lungful of air and opened her eyes wide, pulled her head away from the fingers and whirled to face that horrible shadow, only to see the ceiling, blank and cool in the early morning light. The first birds of morning sang softly behind the closed front door. The shapes of her sleeping roommates were just beginning to stir.

It had been a dream. She must have been asleep. But she felt like she hadn't slept in a long time. All that day, one thought burned in Sam so brightly that it nearly consumed her. She was short-tempered and sulky with her counselor, listless and tired and disinterested in all the day's activities. All she could think of was getting her roommate Ratty's attention, getting Ratty aside for a private moment to ask her about the night before. That was easier said than done.

It was hard to get a private moment with anyone during the bustle and fun of a crowded day at camp, but Sam finally managed it just before dinner. She rolled up to where Ratty idled in her wheelchair on the path outside the mess hall, and Sam asked her point blank what she'd been looking at the night before. Sam realized that she sounded aggressive, almost belligerent, but there was no time to ask any other way. Sam needed to know if Ratty had seen anything the night before. She needed to know if it was real. Ratty's always-radiant smile faltered faded she looked bewildered and said she hadn't been looking at anything she'd been asleep the whole night dreaming a dream she remembered very well

one she often had so Sam asked her about the dream. And after some hesitation, Ratty shyly and quickly described an encounter with a shadowy figure that paralleled Sam's experience in every way but one. In Ratty's version, there was no hint of any fear. Sam listened and heard, but she couldn't believe. She interrupted impatiently, weren't you terrified? Ratty's confusion seemed to deepen. Well, the first time she'd ever had a dream, at camp the summer before. Yes, that first time she'd been absolutely terrified, but then of course she'd seen the shadow man's face and everything had changed.

The shadow man had a face? There were a thousand questions Sam needed to ask, but at that moment their two counselors appeared from the mess hall and began to stroll in their direction Sam just had time to tell ready that it wasn't a dream that she'd seen it too and to beg ready to stay awake that night in case the shadow man came again Sam hadn't spoken quite fast enough. Her counselor heard the name, Shadow Man, and mock-scolded Sam for telling scary stories. That got Sam thinking, and when the counselors were distracted,

talking to one another over dinner, she whispered hurriedly to Ratty, What about the counselors? Did they ever see anything? Oh no, Ratty said. Thank goodness. She didn't think they'd be able to stand the initial fright. Sam thought about that. If they couldn't stand it, how can we?

Sam asked. Ratty smiled that mysterious smile of hers. Because there's one thing we have more of than anyone else. Ratty said, unflinching courage. Look at me. She continued, and her smile grew a little wider. I couldn't flinch if I wanted to. And then both of them started to laugh. But they weren't laughing later, as the shadows lengthened

and night descended on their beds in the little cabin. Ratty was solemn and apprehensive for her friend Sam was just plain scared But all through the long dark hours Whenever fear started to get the better of her Sam was strengthened by the pale glint of Ratty's eyes across the room Then sometime long past midnight What was that? Sam hadn't been asleep. She was almost sure. But she'd been so deep in a daydream that the sound startled her a little. Such a small sound this time, she almost questioned if she'd heard it. She couldn't place what it

could be. Its direction was hard to pinpoint as well, but it seemed to have come from near where the door to the bathroom hung ajar. And staring past the door, following the white-tiled floor as far as she could with her eyes until it disappeared into darkness, Sam tried to remember. Had it always been that dark in there? As soon as Sam had that thought, she was struck by the certainty of what was about to happen. The feeling fell onto her all at once, and it was no longer a question of whether or not the Shadow Man was in there.

It was a question of when she'd first see him emerge. She didn't have long to wait. Sam thought she saw a movement, like an insect struggling suddenly out of a dark, close crevice, antennae waving in the darkness. And then the shadow man was there.

Stealing through the doorway and into the room. Sam stared at it. Wondering what it was going to do. Who it was going to approach first. And in spite of what Ratty had told her. Sam felt fear taking hold. It was nothing Sam saw that chased her mind back into the burrows of this awful terror. It was what she couldn't see. What that thin veneer of shadow might hide. Things too horrible to think. Images too terrible for memory flashed through Sam's mind as the tall, thin figure moved toward her.

It crossed the room at a pace that seemed to take a dozen frozen, terrifying hours. Come on! Sam wanted to scream. Come on, now! Here I am! But slowly, inexorably, at its own chosen pace, the Shadow Man came closer. Finally. Finally. Finally.

He was there, finally, beside Sam's bed. Inches from where she lay, sweating. Immobile, breathing like a beast of burden. Drained of everything but fear. And as she waited for that cold, horrible touch, she felt her stomach rising into her throat, rising like she was falling. Falling for a very long time.

But at the very bottom of her free fall into fear, Sam landed in a swelling wave of her own will. She was burnt out, exhausted. She was tired of the terror. She wasn't going to just lie here and wait. She had nothing left. Nothing left but her courage. So she used it.

She used it to look up. Directly into the shadow man's face. Sam's already faint voice had been fading, and fading as she told her story. I'd started by leaning over to hear it, and then squatting. By this point I was on my knees, grasping the wheel of her chair, leaning my ear so close to her lips that sometimes I could feel the words more than I could hear them. It was only when her story ceased entirely that I realized how close I was.

I pulled my head away from hers and saw that her lips were still moving, still telling me the rest of the story. But no sound came out. She stopped and pressed her lips together, put a shrug into a look and gave it to me. What did it look like? What did you see? I said quickly, with desperate curiosity stamped all over my face and dripping from my words as I tumbled them out. Again, Sam's lips moved and I leaned in to hear her, wishing I could silence the buzz of voices from the other people around us.

Still, the trill of the birds and the trees and the bumble of the insects in the grass. Wishing I could stop the whole world until I learned what Sam knew. But I heard nothing. And when I pulled back to look at her again, she wasn't trying to talk anymore. She was just smiling at me. A rueful smile that held something in it that I hadn't seen before in anyone except the very, very old. Something that told me she knew something that I didn't, and couldn't know, but that I'd one day find out.

Then it was time for everyone to go away, and Sam left with her family. What she'd left me with was wonderful and frustrating. It was the greatest trick of storytelling I'd ever encountered, and I hope I've managed to do it even a fraction of the justice that it deserves. To this day, I wonder, did Sam's voice really give out on her just at that crucial point in the story? Or did she know she couldn't describe what she'd seen and she just chose to give me as much as she could? I guess I'll never know. But if you're out there, Sam,

thank you for giving me a hint that the difference between terrifying shadow and comforting shade is at least partly in how you look at it. I don't know how all of you choose to look at the shade that's been creeping from the tree line towards us for the last little while, but the sun's down now. I think it's safe to call it more than just shade.

It's real darkness now. Be careful getting back to your cabins. Even paved paths can be treacherous at night. And keep being careful once you get inside. Even once you get in your bunks.

And if you're woken by a little sound coming from somewhere nearby in the middle of the night, maybe just keep your eyes closed. With your eyes closed there's no difference between shadows and shade and total darkness. Davis is fast asleep over in the far bunk. Our engineer Nick Patriot is still awake, but he has his headphones on, editing the next episode, so he can't hear the little sound that wakes us up as our own resident shadow men, executive producers Paolo Motilla and Joe Crosby, loom out of the closet. If you need me, writer and host Weston Davis, I'll be here with my eyes shut tight and the covers over my head,

trying to think of something pleasant. Something like next week's episode. Next week is the last episode of our summer camp season, but don't worry. We'll be back in September to tell even more frightening tales around glowing summer camp season. But don't worry, we'll be back in September to tell

even more frightening tales around glowing autumn campfires. But next week, we're preparing for a night like any night at summer camp. A night in the lower half of a bunk bed. The top bunk is empty. At least, it's empty when you go to bed. But in the middle of the night, you awaken to the corner of a bed sheet dangling down from above. Dangling down and moving. I guess we'd better find out what's up there. In the top bunk. See you next week for another episode of the Camp Monsters podcast. Thanks again for joining us by the fireside.

If you're having fun here at Camp Monsters Summer Camp, remember to take a second to like, review, and share the show with your friends. It's your support that keeps us recording just ask our content and media strategist lucy brooks thanks again to all of you and see you next week