Scary Stories to Tell In The Dark

The Shadow People

Hi, I'm Eleanor. I'm 15, nearly 16. My younger brother Thomas is 6 and lives in the room next to me. We live in an older home, with big windows with long curtains and dining rooms that could stretch to nearly 2 individual rooms.

It was summer, which I was excited about. I've been planning to go play monopoly and have dinner at my close friend Ruth's house, but I haven't heard from her since yesterday. Perhaps she's busy, but it feels like it's been ages since we've last talked.

Anyways, this morning I woke up and ran down the two flights of stairs to the kitchen where I met the maid and my mother having a small conversation about cleaning, maybe. I didn't pay too much attention to their talking as I was eating my toast.

Thomas runs down the stairs, with tears in his eyes.

"What's wrong, dear?" My mother asked sweetly, holding him.

"I saw more shadow people this morning." Thomas said hesitantly.

For as long as I can remember, Thomas has been seeing "Shadow People" which he believes are ghosts, spirits, whatever of the sort.

"They're shadows, they won't bring you any harm." My mother sweetly replied, still concerned for her son.

"Maybe our house is haunted." I teased, giving my plate to the maid.

"Stop it, Eleanor." Mother nagged as Thomas whined.

I rolled my eyes and ran back up to my room to change my clothes. Today I decided to explore the spare rooms that were still empty from us first moving in. We moved in about 3 months ago, as I remember, and there are many extra rooms on the top floor of our home that I was dying to snoop around in.

I go into the piano room, which I call it, since everything is covered in dust, white sheets, and there is nothing but boxes and a giant piano in the middle of the room.

I open an old box and start digging through the old 1800's pictures that remained.

The maid then came upstairs to greet me, I suppose Mother had her come and check on me.

"What is this?" I ask, handing her a memory book from decades ago with old pictures.

"Well, it might seem creepy, but this photographer from the late 1800's, would be hired to take pictures of dead loved ones before their funeral. It may seem like they are lying there, but they aren't alive, and some even say their spirits live on through the photographs.

"So the shadow people that Thomas sees, are they these people? Ghosts?" I ask.

"I don't think so." She shrugged, handing me the booklet back and making her way downstairs.

I close the book and put it back in the box. Quite creeped out, I go outside to kick around in the fall leaves and Thomas joined me.

"Those shadow people, what are they?" He asked, confused.

"It's your imagination. They're just shadows." I sigh, trying to enjoy myself outside.

"Well, they are shadows, but sometimes I see them in my dreams. I can draw them if you'd like. There is a family. They talk to me, too." Thomas said, unsure.

"Sure, let's go inside.." I stutter, leading him in through the front door of the house.

I gave him a piece of paper and a few colored pencils.

"This is Emily," he said, pointing at a woman in a red dress he drew, "that is her husband John," he continued, pointing at a man in a suit, "and that is Vince. He is their son."

"Alright.. who is that?" I asked quite frightened, pointing at an old lady that had a very unsatisfying face.

"I'm not sure. It isn't the grandmother, but maybe an old friend of theirs." Thomas replied, happy with his drawings.