❝𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝕛𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕝❞creepypasta investigation

The Hat man⁽ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ⁾

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Some years ago my grandma and i lived alone in my childhood house, which was very eerie, but that's another story.

My room was at the end of a long hall and my grandma's a little further down. 

One night i had woken up because i could hear her crying, so i went to check on her. 

The moment i walked into her room i noticed her looking at one corner completely petrified, trembling while holding her covers close to her chest.

"Grandma are you okay?" i asked worried.

"How did he get in? Why is he staring at me?" she said.

"Who? There is no one t-" i stopped, cause what would come out ofmy mouth would be a lie. There was someone there. Behind the curtains. Standing in the corner, observing her.

I slowly moved towards it, holding some scissors i found lying on the boudoir, and lifted my hand to suddently open the curtains. And he was standing right infront of me, i gasped and run to my grandma that was now screaming.

But the only thing calming me was the fact that his shadowy appearance meant he was not human. Anything that isn't a man is not as scary to me. But again that person was just black, as in literally just a shadow, with a hat. But no ordinary shadow, not that he was casted on the wall, but was a being manifested as a body.  ⁽ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱ ˢᵃʷ. ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ.⁾

I backed away and slowly went to call my grandpa. I wouldn't call the police, because there wasn't an "actual" thread. But we did call a priest. (i grew up in a very christian family. My grandpa was a churchwarden back then so priests would visit almost daily.) My grandpa arrived before the priest and found me and grandma hugging and trembling. We pointed at the "man" but my grandpa was confused as he couldn't see anyone.

"Are you both hallucinating? The same shadow person? How is that possible?"

It wasn't! I saw the man before my grandma told me where he was or what he looked like. And also, the man moved. He turned his head to look at my grandpa when he walked in the room.

The priest told us that it was just bad energy in the house. He cleansed the place and the shadow dissapeared.

We never forgot about this incident. And it sadly wasn't the last time we saw him... ⁽ⁱ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗⁱⁿᵍˢ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ⁾

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ᓚᘏᗢ- rewrite

In the quietude of my childhood home, a place already shrouded in an air of mystery, there occurred an event so unsettling that it forever altered my perception of the seen and the unseen. This tale, rooted in the eerie, moonlit corridors of a house that whispered secrets, begins with the sound of sorrow piercing the stillness of the night.

It was a night like any other, until the silence was broken by the sound of my grandmother's cries. Concerned, I made my way down the long, shadowy hall that led to her room, the familiar path now seeming endless, as if charged with a foreboding presence.

Upon entering her room, the sight that greeted me was one of pure terror—my grandmother, a figure of strength and comfort throughout my life, was reduced to a state of utter fear. Her eyes were fixed on a corner of the room, her body trembling, clutching her covers as if they could shield her from whatever horror lurked in the shadows.

Her words, "How did he get in? Why is he staring at me?" sent a chill down my spine. Initially, I attempted to reassure her, to deny the presence of any intruder, but the truth halted my words. There, behind the curtains, stood an entity so unnerving, so devoid of human characteristics, that it defied logic.

Armed with nothing but a pair of scissors and a heart pounding with fear, I approached the entity, determined to confront our uninvited guest. With a swift motion, I drew back the curtains, only to find myself face-to-face with a being that seemed to be made of shadow itself—a figure clad in a hat, its form a void of darkness that absorbed all light.

The realization that this entity was not human brought a strange sense of relief, albeit momentarily. There was something inherently terrifying yet fascinating about its shadowy existence, a being that stood in defiance of all natural laws.

In a state of panic, we retreated, seeking solace in each other's company while we awaited the arrival of my grandpa. The decision not to call the police stemmed from the understanding that the threat we faced was beyond their realm of intervention. Instead, we sought help from a source more attuned to the spiritual disturbances that plagued our home—a priest.

Upon his arrival, my grandpa was met with a sight that must have bordered on the incomprehensible—his wife and granddaughter, huddled together, pointing towards a menace that was invisible to his eyes. His confusion was palpable, his questions echoing our own fears. How could two people experience the same chilling apparition independently?

The priest, a familiar presence in our household, offered an explanation rooted in the spiritual—bad energy that had accumulated within the walls of our home. His cleansing rituals seemed to dissipate the shadowy figure, restoring a semblance of peace to our troubled spirits.

But the encounter with the shadow man, as we came to call him, remained etched in our memories, a constant reminder of the night when the boundaries between our world and another were blurred. The incident was far from the last of its kind, serving as a prelude to further encounters with the unexplained.

In the years that followed, the shadow man became a spectral thread woven into the fabric of our family's history, a chilling testament to the existence of realms beyond our understanding. And while the priest's intervention offered temporary respite, the true nature of the shadow man, and the reason behind his visits, remained a mystery—one that lingered in the corners of our home, waiting in the darkness.

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