Creepy - Message from the Shadow Man

Episode Date: November 18, 2019

Please listen...***Written by Tara A Devlin and narrated by Heather Thomas***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Produced by Steve Blizin***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Presence Message from the Shadow Man, written by Tara A. Devlin and narrated by Heather Thomas. I was 26 when it happened. I was on my way to a blind date I didn't want to be on when I was sideswiped, leaving me in hospital with two broken legs, a broken collarbone, and several fractured ribs. That wasn't the end of it, though.

My spine was damaged beyond repair. The bones in my legs would eventually heal, but I would never be able to use them again. Nice excuse for missing a date, right? Sorry, I can't make it today. Just found out I'm paraplegic. His name was Scott, and he was the son of one of my mother's friends.

I'd never seen him before. but as my mother liked to tell me he's very nice as I lay in the hospital strangers talking about my future like I wasn't even there I began to despise him this imaginary man I'd never met before was the reason I would never be able to walk never again be able to live my life like a normal person whatever normal was if I never agreed to go on this blind date if I never to go to this restaurant on the other side of town, this never would have happened. My mother cried, like this was all happening to her and not me, the one paralyzed in bed

and facing the rest of my life in a wheelchair. It was always about her. This whole blind date was about her. You need to get out there more. When am I going to hold my grandchildren? I'm getting on in years, you know? Yeah. This entire ordeal was because my mother wanted grandchildren and refused to let me live my own life. If there was one person I hated more than this imaginary Scott person I never even got to meet, it was my mother.

I was on my fourth day in the hospital when she came to the door with someone. It was a young man around my age, handsome in a boyish way, with a muscular build, and a good head or so taller than my mother. This is Scott. When I told him what happened, he wanted to come and see you. Scott proved to be charming, funny, and polite. The irrational anger I held towards him for my predicament, faded the longer we were together and before he left he asked if it would be okay for him to visit again i said yes that night was the first time i saw him the shadow man i was lying in bed staring at the ceiling and pondering the butterflies in my stomach when i saw something in the corner of the room it wasn't

It wasn't movement. The space in the corner grew darker. And as I turned to look at it, a shape took place. It was the shape of a man, about the same size as Scott. It didn't move. It just stood there, looking at me. I stared at it, too scared to look away. When I finally blinked, it was gone.

I closed my eyes and waited for the pounding of my heart to stop and sleep to claim me before whatever that creature was did. The sun was rising before I fell into a restless sleep. Scott came to visit again a few days later. I didn't tell anyone about what I saw. They would put it down to stress or lack of sleep or any number of factors they could pick from to try to console a poor young woman. Yet I told Scott, and he didn't laugh at me or treat me like a glass doll that needed to be looked after. He grabbed my hand and looked me in the eyes. I have tomorrow off.

I'll stay here tonight, and I'll be right outside that door. If it happens again, you just say the word, and I'll come running. The shadow didn't appear that night. but I did notice the butterflies in my stomach become more numerous and more voracious. When Scott asked a week later if I would like to go on another date with him, once I got out of the hospital, a proper first date. I agreed. Part of me didn't want to give my mother the satisfaction of setting me up with someone, but another part of me couldn't help it. I was falling for him. Bad. Thoughts of the shadow faded, and I was cleared to return home. The pain in my legs continued,

despite the fact I no longer had feeling in them, and the phantom pain often woke me during the night. I thought that was only supposed to happen with limbs that were removed entirely, but the pain kept dragging me from my sleep. With my heart pounding, my eyes would dart to the corner of the room, expecting to see the darkness. But there was nothing. Perhaps I really did imagine it. I was hooked up to a lot of drugs and trying to work my way through a stressful period at the time, after all.

The phantom pains lingered, but it appeared the shadow man was gone. Maybe he was never there in the first place. Scott came around one Saturday morning, a few weeks after my return home, to take me down to the beach. If you want to, that is, it's about an hour's drive away.

We chatted about our lives, our interests, our hobbies and passions. It terrified me how perfect he was. He enjoyed sports and often played soccer with his friends on the weekends. He enjoyed weightlifting during the week and spent the rest of his free time watching TV,

woodworking and traveling. He promised me that next time he would bring me something he crafted himself, and the butterflies in my stomach danced. No one had ever done that for me before. It was something so small, but the mere thought of it meant the world to me. It made me feel special.

I smiled without realizing it. it. We arrived at the beach and my heart dropped. It was something I was having trouble adjusting to, and it hit me like a sack of bricks. My wheelchair. It wasn't meant for sand. A small bubble of shame began to well in my chest before transforming into anger. Anger at the world for doing this to me. anger at myself for how helpless I now was. Anger at Scott for bringing me here when he knew I wouldn't be able to enjoy it. He looked at me, as if reading my thoughts, and smiled. Without a word, he got out of the car, grabbed a bag from the back, and then opened my door.

May I? I nodded, unsure of what he meant. And he squatted down, put one arm behind my back, the other under my legs, and then lifted me from the car. The lady, would you care to see the water? I wanted to feel shame. I wanted to feel anger. I wasn't some toy he could play with, some helpless cripple who couldn't do anything without assistance anymore. But all I did was nod my head.

because the smell of his skin was intoxicating and as he carried me through the sand without even breaking a sweat I knew I was falling for him bad so what did you want to be when you were a child he asked putting the finishing touches on the sand castle he was building

sand stuck to his dark skin and I had to force myself not to brush it off A teacher, I replied. Boring, right? He smiled and shook his head. Not at all. I think teachers have one of the most important and underappreciated roles in society to date. And if I were smart enough, I would have liked to have been one myself.

He always knew what to say. How to say it. The shy smile as he looked back at me. me, gripped my heart in a vice, and left me speechless. You? I choked out. Well, in the first grade, I wanted to be an astronaut. The suits they wore were just so cool.

Then in the third grade, I wanted to be a vet, but I quickly realized that I didn't like the sight of flood. He laughed. By the time I reached high school, I dreamt of being an architect. I just love creating, you know. There's nothing like taking a lifeless, shapeless object and crafting it into a thing of beauty, a thing that can change how people feel, how people live even.

A house isn't a house until you put all the lifeless, shapeless pieces together. And although they're all built the same basic way, you can create endless designs. No one house like another. His passion drew me in. I was a poor farm girl. He a royal-born prince.

I didn't understand exactly what he was trying to say, but the passion behind the words reached my heart, nevertheless. In Japan, they carve guardians into the eaves of their houses. Exquisite designs. that have so much meaning and belief behind them. They also refuse to place doorways or running water in the northeastern corner because it's considered bad luck. Yet you look at houses here,

and they're just giant blocks of rooms all stacked on top of each other. No feeling, no heart, no creativity. I wanted to create beautiful things. lasting things. He smoothed out the top of one of the Sandcastle spires. But I wasn't smart enough and failed my exams. So I took up painting with my dad instead. It pays well enough and it's still creating homes.

Kind of. He laughed, but the smile never reached his eyes. Would you like to come back to my house tonight? I blurted before I could stop myself. He'd rose in my cheeks, which were surely red. For dinner, I mean. I would love that. He smiled.

Being with Scott made me forget about the accident, the loss of feeling in my legs, the pain in my heart. But that night, as he lay beside me, sound asleep, The darkness returned. It lingered in the corner, unmoving, watching us. Unable to take my eyes off it, I slid a hand over Scott's shoulder and tried to shake him awake. He didn't respond. I shook harder. But the harder I shook, the closer the darkness came. Adrenaline coursed through my body, but nothing I did roused him. The shadow reached the edge of the bed.

It loomed over Scott's frozen body. The tendril moved towards his chest. No! I screamed and fumbled for the light switch. The bedside lamp clattered to the ground, shattering all over the floor. I flicked the switch, but nothing happened. It was broken. I threw myself to the floor, dragging myself to the light switch.

switch on the other side of the room. The darkness was directly over Scott's face, peering into his closed eyes. I reached for the switch, but without my chair it was too high. I tried to force my useless legs into position, to get high enough, my heart telling me that if I could just get the light on, that everything would be all right, then I couldn't reach it. I jumped over and over, tears streaming down my face. It was right there, but my useless lower body was keeping me from it. Panic was taking over,

and as I prepared to make one final attempt, the light came on. Hey, are you okay? Scott was rubbing his eyes, the bedside lamp on his side illuminating the room. How could I have been so stupid? In my fear, I didn't even think to reach over and turn that lamp on instead. The darkness was gone.

Scott got out of bed and knelt before me. It was just a bad dream, I lied. Just a bad dream. As much as I wanted to avoid pleasing my mother and hearing, I told you so, for the rest of my life, several months into dating. Scott asked me to marry him. And I said yes. He was the rock I never knew was missing from my life.

And he brought me happiness I didn't know I was capable of feeling. He helped me adjust to life in a wheelchair and made modifications around the home to assist with daily life. Before long I was pregnant. And shortly before Christmas, we welcomed a beautiful baby boy into our lives. He named him Terry after Scott's father. My heart was full of such joy that in my most quiet moments, I almost found myself thankful for the accident that took the use of my legs.

Who knows how things might have gone if I met Scott against my will in some restaurant I didn't know, while thinking about how I could escape the whole time. The thought scared me. Things could have so easily been different. I could have let the love of my life slip me by. My son may never have been born. On the eve of his second birthday, I was tucking Terry into bed when he pointed to something behind me.

I turned, my heart already fearing the worst. But it was just Scott, standing with his arms crossed and a sly grin on his face. You're home early? I didn't hear you come in. Long nights had been keeping Scott at work as he strove to provide for our new family. It wasn't like he was skipping out. He was home and in bed with me every single night,

and every morning he kissed both me and our son before he set off again. His father, Terry's namesake, was diagnosed with lung cancer a year earlier. He was getting weaker. and unable to go to work anymore. Scott was doing the workload of two men, whilst trying to provide for us and look after his ailing father at the same time. I had no idea what I ever did to deserve him.

We were watching TV as Terry sang himself to sleep in the room behind us. During the commercial break, I turned to ask Scott if he wanted to go to bed early when I saw he was already asleep. I smiled. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes twitching. I lay my head against his chest and closed my eyes. He smelled the same as he did that first day. The day he took me to the beach.

The day I fell in love with him, I began to drift off myself. But a sudden change in temperature woke me from my slumber. There was a small heater in the corner of the corner of, the room, quietly worrying. It rotated from side to side. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was working. So why was it so cold? What do you want? I asked, trying to keep my voice down. My grip tightened around Scott's wrist. I didn't want to wake him or Terry. The shadow said nothing. It turned to look at the photo on the wall, a photo of Scott and I on our wedding day, the happiest day of my life after Terry's birth. It looked at me again.

What? I didn't understand. The hairs on my arms stood on end and prickles ran across the base of my neck. My survival instinct wanted me out of the room that instant. My motherly instinct Wanted that thing gone before it could harm my child With a loud bang The photos split in two

Separating the two happy faces Looking down at me from the wall I jumped But Scott made no sign of movement He continued to sleep The pieces of frame and torn photo fell to the floor Glass shattering in all directions

All I could think about was keeping it away from Terry. Did the thing know he was in there? It floated toward me on invisible feet and bent over. The darkness of its face inches from mine. It was like looking into a void. There was nothing there. A lack of light, of substance, of existence, of existence. A tendril sneaked towards my wrist.

I couldn't escape it. It latched on, squeezing tighter and tighter. I let out a gasp, and another tendrils surrounded my neck. Scott continued to snore. Should not be. There was a sound, not quite a voice, but an imitation of one. Wake up. My vision blurred.

The room faded. The darkness closing in on me was the last thing I saw. Its cold tendrils around my wrist and neck the last thing I felt. When I came to, I was in bed. Terry was in the next room singing a song, as sunlight peaked through the curtains. Morning, babe. I thought I'd let you sleep in a bit because you looked tired last night. I gave Terry his breakfast already and did the dishes.

How are you feeling? I rubbed my eyes, confused. Where was the shadow man? How did I get into bed? I picked up my phone and checked the time. My eyes widened in shock. It was 7 a.m., but that wasn't what scared me. The date?

Two days had passed. Two days gone from. my life. Two days I had no memory of. I looked at Scott. This might sound strange. But what did we do yesterday? Scott raised an eyebrow. Uh, I went to work, came home, we had spaghetti for dinner, and then watched a movie. Why? The last meal I remembered was hamburgers. We watched TV, not a movie. Nothing. I lied.

Here, let me help. Scott ran over and helped lift me into my chair. Are you sure you're okay? I can take the day off if you want. We can take Terry down to the park, or... I smiled. There was nothing visibly wrong, but the situation felt off.

Like it wasn't my bedroom. I couldn't shake the feeling. Really? Okay. He didn't seem convinced. Well, you can call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all. The boys can cover me for a single day.

God knows I've covered their asses more than enough over the years. I nodded, and he leant down for a kiss. I'll see you tonight. I mean it. Anything at all, you call me. Oh, and your mother wants us to come around for dinner this weekend. She wants to see her precious grandson. Terry sat in the corner of the lounge room,

the same spot I saw the shadow man the night before. Or was it two nights ago? He wasn't yet talking, other than a few simple words, but he hummed a tune as he stacked blocks, not a care in the world. He looked so much like his. father, beautiful skin, dark hair, boyish features. He took all of his father's great genetics, and none of my inferior ones. My heart filled with warmth that pushed the overwhelming unease

away, at least for a short while. Sure, I replied. As much as she annoyed me, I couldn't deny my mother that. I'll see you tonight, okay? Time passed once more without incident, a shadow man becoming but a vague memory. But when Terry started going to school, Scott was involved in an accident at work. Nobody had any idea how it happened.

He was painting the outside of a house when one of the ladders collapsed and sent him tumbling to the ground, two stories below. The fall broke his left leg and collarbone, and a paint can landed on his head, knocking him out. All safety protocols were adhered to, and there was no evidence of foul play. Just bad luck was the official consensus after all was said and done. Scott was out of work for a few months, but at least he had his life, right?

At just six years old, Terry had two cripples. for parents. Scott would get better, sure, but while his leg and collarbone were broken, he was immobile, and I had to do everything for him. The irony wasn't lost on me. I was tucking Terry into bed when I saw it again. It always appeared so randomly, and so far apart that I forgot it even existed. Yet it always came.

back to remind me always my eyes locked onto the darkness in the corner and Terry's eyes followed he looked in the same spot and I knew that he could see it too the sound reverberated through the room I covered my ears but it wasn't my ears that were hearing it it was inside me all around me it was coming Coming from everywhere. Should not. Scott was in the other room. Even if I could get to him,

what good would he do? He couldn't move. What do you want? I screamed. The darkness moved towards Terry this time. And in a panic, I threw myself over him. You stay away from my son! No.

Cold darkness snaked around my neck. But it didn't tighten like last time. It continued on towards Terry. Not yours. Terry began coughing. I grasped at the tendrils, but there was nothing to crap. The darkness was choking my son, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I screamed.

My voice hoarse as tears streamed down my face. I clawed and clawed, and while I clawed, And while I could see the pressure on Terry's neck, my hands grasped at nothingness. Leave my son alone. Take me. It's me you want, right? As I searched my memories, I knew it to be the truth. The shadow wasn't there for Terry.

It was there for me. It was always there for me. It didn't always make itself known. But it was always there. In the corner of the room, above me as I slept, in the back of the car, underneath the table as I ate. I saw it more often than I wanted to admit, even to myself. I could go months without thinking of it, but a movement in the corner of my eye would bring it back to the forefront of my memories again.

Everything felt wrong. Everything felt off. It was that darkness, the thing haunting me that refused to let go. It never physically attacked me or my family, so I let it be. Put it out of my mind, pretended it was gone. Sometimes I really did forget about it, and life went on like normal. But now it was escalation. It was the darkness that attacked my husband, put him out of commission, and made him helpless as a baby.

Now that he was out of the way, it was coming from my son. But why? What did it want from me? Mommy! Terry choked, tears rolling down his cheeks. His eyes looked at me with fear, unable to comprehend what was going on. The more I grasped at air, the more frustrated and scared I got. I swung at air. I cried and screamed. I threw Terry's bedside lamp, and it crashed against the wall. I tried to shield Terry with my own body.

I tried to pick him up and carry him away from the darkness. But it was no use. The shadow was too strong. My son. My six-year-old son, the light of my life and my reason for living, gurgled his last breaths, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I watched the light go out of his eyes. I felt his body go limp beneath me.

It was a nightmare within a nightmare. The pain so intense that the room began to spin. Sickness rose in my throat. Thousands of tiny pins stabbed at my temples and my body went numb. I shook him a few times. Gathering his tiny body in my arms, he would never look at me with those eyes that looked so much like his daddy's again. Never again kick the ball around or lie on the couch with me watching TV. or turn around and wave as he ran off to school.

Never kiss me good night, or jump on the bed in the morning to wake me up as I began to break down on the inside, willing the light to leave my own body, whatever it took to be with my son again. The darkness closed in once more. I couldn't find words to express my thoughts. The world was a jumble.

I couldn't tell up from down, right, from left. There was only pain and darkness. No. If I opened my eyes, I would see the one thing I didn't want. I would tear my own heart out of my chest with my bare hands first. It would hurt less. Honey, what's going on? Scott's voice filtered in from the lounge room.

Is everything? The darkness was gone. It was in the lounge room, silencing my husband, finishing the job. The love of my life, the father of my son. The one thing that kept me going through all the dark times, the one person whose support and love propped me up, helped me heal, helped me live. Now it was stealing his light too, leaving me alone in the darkness. The room shook.

Lights flashed by my closed eyes and sounds echoed in and around my head. The weight of my dead son's body pulled me down, much heavier than I ever thought he could be. Do it. My heart raised. My husband was fighting the darkness in the other room. He wasn't winning. He wasn't supposed to win. All of this was to get to me.

It took my son. It was taking my husband. I wouldn't let it have me too. My husband cried out. I screamed. Our voices mingling with the vibrations of the house around us. I was surrounded by voices all at once, urging me on, pressing me forward. They smothered me.

I drowned in them. My husband was dying. My son was dead. Now! The cry was guttural. My husband took his last breath. Pain, I didn't know I could feel. Tore through my heart, my mind.

my soul it was all gone just like that everything I ever left it was all open your eyes I blinked head pounding and body aching

I shielded my face the lights above me too bright to see quick call the doctor she's awake My mother was hovering over me, wiping hair from my face. Where's Scott? Where's Terry? What did they do with my son?

My voice broke as I tried to sit up. My mother pushed me back down on the bed. I struggled, but a doctor came running into the room. Several nurses held me down as he administered something into the IV drip in my arm. Ma'am, we need you to. to calm down. Everything is okay now. You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened? Tears rolled down my cheeks. Pain began to dissipate from my body, but not my heart. Terry, I said once more. Where is my son? The doctor exchanged glances with my mother.

Where is Scott? Is he okay? My mother placed a hand on my arm. I mean, sweetie. Don't lie to me! I yelled. Jowsiness was taking over. But I had to fight it.

I needed to know. My mother was taken aback. I didn't know you were so fond of him, dear. The drugs were messing with my mind. They had to be. Husband! Of course I'm fond of him! Even now, in my moment of crisis,

she still found ways to infuriate me, to make my life more difficult than it had to be. I hated her. I despised her. If it wasn't for her, I would never have lost the use of my legs. I would have never met Scott. I wouldn't be in the pain I would.

was in now. It was all her fault. Everything. Why won't anyone tell me where they are? Where is my husband and son? The doctor ushered the nurses out as my mother sat by my bedside. She grabbed my hand, but I pulled it away. I swear to God, if you keep messing around with me any longer, sweetie, She began. I want you to listen to me very closely, okay? You were in an accident. I nodded. I know that.

You were on your way to see Scott. Do you remember? I nodded. Don't treat me like an idiot. That was years ago. Where is he now? She shook her head. No, sweetie.

That was just a few. hours ago. They said your car was hit by a truck. You were... Tears streamed down her face as she choked up. You're lucky to be alive. They brought you to the hospital a few hours ago and you've been unconscious ever since. We weren't sure if you were going to wake up. The room spun. My head spun. No. She was lying. This was another nasty trick of hers, a way to keep me under her heel.

To take my son away from me. She always wanted a grandchild, but I never thought she'd go this far. No, you're lying. I fumbled for my phone on the bedside table, knocking over a glass of water and other personal items. I checked the date. My heart's sake. He wasn't lying. It was the same date.

I was supposed to meet Scott at 6 p.m. The phone said 11.36 p.m. Oh, God. My son. My whole life with Scott, our marriage. It never existed. My son never existed. He didn't die.

He was never born. In just a few hours, my brain created an entirely new life for me. The memories were there, like real memories. I remembered the smell of scot skin, the feel of holding my baby boy, his tiny hands and mine, his kisses on my cheek.

None of that was real. The darkness wanted me to realize that. He wasn't real. I cried. Over the next few hours, several doctors came to visit me. But I didn't hear a word they said. My heart was too heavy. I was in love.

I was married. I had a happy, healthy son. Only I didn't. I was the only person who had memories of his existence. And I had no one to share that pain with. The next morning, my mother came in to see me. The doctors had once again explained that it was highly unlikely that I'd ever get feeling back in my legs again.

They were surprised by how well I took it. They didn't know that, to me, I'd already lived close to a decade without the use of my legs. It was old news. I just got off the phone with Scott. My heart skipped a beat. Scott was real. I was on my way to see him when the accident happened.

He wants to know if it would be okay to come and see you. He was devastated to hear what happened. And it might not be the most romantic first date, but he wants to come and see you anyway. He feels so bad that this happened while you. you were on your way to see him. Scott. My husband. The love of my life. The man who picked me up when I was down, who gave me love I never knew I could experience, a life I never thought I could have. He wasn't the same, Scott. Couldn't be the same. My husband was something my mind created

in its moment of duress. But he was real. He may not be the same person my mind created. But he was real. I looked toward the corner of the room, the place I first saw the shadow man. There was nothing there. The room was bright.

The room was warm. Sure, I replied. I'd love to see him. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us. At CreepyPod on Twitter, Instagram. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta wiki.com and are protected by a Creative Commons license.

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