Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Mama's House and the Shadowman


When I was young, from the time I could remember and until my teens, I spent almost every weekend at my grandmother’s house. I called her Mama.
The old house came with the stigma of being haunted not only from being an old house, but from experiences passed down through my mother and grandmother.
I want to say there were 2 separate things within its walls, although my mother only spoke of the 1.
There was the usual haunting. Odd noises, unexplainable footsteps, cabinets, doors, and windows opening or closing, and often the overwhelming feeling of being watched.
I can’t remember how many times I would sit on the couch and gaze through the doorway into the kitchen, knowing I in turn was being looked at. Oftentimes I was too afraid to look there.
My mother had told of the phone ringing, and when she would answer, it would be there, on the other end or in the phone, whichever. I experienced this once. Mama had one of those old rotary dial wall phones. As it rang I answered, and the deep buzzing and popping that spoke back began to travel up my arm and through my shoulder. I dropped the phone and dreaded answering it every time it rang thereafter.
As Mama grew older, her health deteriorated and she could no longer live by herself.
So she moved in with us.
My mother and I would frequently visit the old house, either to retrieve items, care for the property, and so on.
This is when whatever was there began to get a little creepier.
Things would be moved from where we had put them. Clothes unfolded, boxes we had packed would be unpacked. Objects I had just looked away from for a second would be moved dramatically. Several times I felt as if I were touched or brushed against by something.
And more than once the atmosphere would become so alarming that both my mother and I would immediately leave, with the feeling of being chased to the front door.
Several times we even found 'it' right inside the front door and would wait to enter.
Whatever was there was undeniable to mother, my grandmother, and myself.
It seemed to leave when my grandmother passed away. As if it belonged to her.

The second part to the story was something only I seemed to experience.
My shadowman.
To get to the basement of the old house, you had to go through the laundry room down a flight of steps to a landing, and turn right and down another flight of steps to the basement.
I know, you're already thinking young boy+basement+old house= severe paranoia.
But the thing was, the basement never bothered me. It was the shadowman on the steps that scared the hell out of me.
He wasn't there all the time, but was frequently.
He looked about the same size and shape as an adult man, but featureless and without defined boundaries. He wasn't so much a shadow, but the absence or at least consumption of light. Even through the sunlight coming in through a door window at the first landing.
He would begin about halfway up the lower staircase and move rapidly to the landing and wait in the corner. The closer I would get, he would drift up the upper staircase and stop at the top. As if he were waiting me out.
Rarely would I get the courage to pass him, when I did I was overcome with the feeling of pins and needles, dread, and sheer terror. If he was trying to keep me from the basement, most of the time he won.
I don't remember the last time I saw my shadowman, but I don't see him anymore.
I rarely go to the old house anymore, but when I do, sometimes I still get the pins and needles and feeling of dread on that concrete staircase. As if he's still there. Perhaps just blind to the eyes of a grown man.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Take the devil's picture off.....

Anonymous said...

Since you redid the page is the story I typed gone???? Mom

Breck said...

Yes, I am unable to find that story. Sorry, can you please resubmit.

Unknown said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Breck said...

Hello rivertiger...
Yes, actually the house is in Knoxville. My mother owns it and rents it out. My interests in the paranormal (in any educated form) just began recently. Someday, in between renters. I hope to try some actual investigation.
I pulled your reply because it had your personal E-mail. I have it saved and thank you. I have updated my welcome blog message to include an e-mail address that you may submit stories to or post an e-mail. It's probably a total of like 3 people who read this blog, but ya never know. Thanks rivertiger. Hope to hear from you again

Breck