The Shadow People

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The Shadow People
Shadow People / Stock Photo

I have lived in the small town of Burlington my whole life. Burlington is rich in history that is extremely hard to find. One thing I do know is that not even a mile from my house, Indians brutally murdered a group of settlers.

With some background information in place it is time to tell my stories about the shadow people. I lived in the backwoods, meaning my nearest neighbor is more than one hundred yards away from my land. As a small child I would play outside by myself, and there is one day that I remember vividly. I was playing outside when I saw a “person”, as I called it back then, watching me from the tree line. I ran inside and told my dad, but when he came out the “person” was gone. I remember it was a silhouette of a man and everything was black. He had no face or anything. I now refer to it as the shadow person.

Years later, I was in my driveway playing basketball. Directly behind my basketball hoop is the woods. I was playing and I just happened to look over and saw what looked like the same shadow person from years ago. I ran inside to tell my mom and she came outside and ran into the woods chasing it. To this day she will not tell me what she saw, but she definitely saw something.

About two years ago, I was in my kitchen making popcorn in the microwave. Now the way my house is set up you can see the living room and back hallway from the microwave. At the time, my dad was outside and my mom was inside and we were the only ones home. So, I was standing by the microwave and out of the corner of my eye I saw someone walk the back hallway. I yelled for my mom, thinking it was her, and she didn’t answer. I went back the hallway and into the bathroom and no one was in there, and about that time my mom yelled from the laundry room (which is on the other end of the house). I went to talk to her and then came back into the kitchen and once again I saw the shadow person go back down the hallway. For some reason it wanted me to go down that hallway, and to this day I have no idea why.

These are just a few of the stories from my home, which I still live in.

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Stories are personal encounters that were submitted to us by our website visitors. Unless otherwise mentioned, stock photos are used to help represent the story and are not actual photographs that were taken during the author's experience.

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