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Hello everyone. You can call me Shadow.
Before I start, I want to say this is not a fantasy story, not an exaggeration — it’s what really happened to me through my life, and I came here because I’ve reached the point where I need understanding and guidance.
Everything began with my birth. I probably wasn’t even supposed to be born. My health was extremely fragile; from the moment I came into this world, I caught something serious. I would often choke, couldn’t breathe, the doctors tried everything — injections, medicines — nothing worked. They gave up. My mother, desperate, decided to baptize me in an Orthodox church. And the impossible happened: the illness suddenly vanished. Just like that.
Doctors were in shock. They’d already given up on me, but life decided otherwise. That was the first miracle.
Growing up, I was quiet, mostly alone. My grandmother feared I would stay silent forever — she ironically taught me to swear, so I started cursing like a sailor in kindergarten, not even knowing what the words meant. That habit stayed for years.
I was always an outsider. Even when things seemed fine with people, I somehow ended up alone again. At first, I tried to fight that, but later I accepted it as part of my path.
Now, to the strange part — which is all true. When I was a child, I saw something. A shadow. It came to me at night more than once.
I remember clearly: I was sick, lying in bed. My family was celebrating something in the next room. Suddenly, my door turned transparent. I could see my mother through it, but she couldn’t see me.
And through that half-visible doorway, a shadow entered. It looked human, but featureless, dark. It looked at me, put a finger to its lips — a gesture to keep silent — then opened a drawer, searched for something, closed it, and stood near me.
At that moment my grandmother heard a sound from my room, came in — and instantly, the shadow disappeared. The door became solid again. When I told them what happened, nobody believed me. “Just a dream,” they said. But I knew it wasn’t.
Later, my family broke apart. My mother and I moved to a one-room apartment. She worked all the time, so I was often alone — at kindergarten, with grandparents, or home by myself.
There was a hallway with mirrors — one on a wardrobe and another on the wall behind it, creating a mirror corridor. Every evening, when darkness came, I felt something awaken there. A cold awareness, as if someone was watching me.
At night, we closed the door to our bedroom to keep that feeling away. But sometimes — the door would open slowly, on its own. Exactly like in horror films — creaking, inch by inch. I’d get up, close it again, go back to bed… and it would open again. Eventually, we stopped closing it altogether.
Then came another event: one night, while sleeping, we both heard scratching sounds — from under the bed. My mother heard it too. I looked — nothing was there, but the sound was clear, like claws scraping wood.
Sometimes the lights would explode or go off — only in our apartment, not the neighbors’. The wiring was fine, the fuse box locked. It made no sense.
And then — the main event that I will never forget.
It was daytime, my mother was at work, around 1 or 2 p.m. I was playing with toys, TV on, the light in the hallway still on.
I looked toward the doorway — and there it was. A tall, wide, dark figure standing there, faceless.
I froze in fear, hid behind the bed for several minutes, then slowly decided to face it. As I approached, I felt the air grow colder, and a deep humming sound filled the room. The closer I got, the stronger it became. When I was almost face to face, the temperature felt like ice. I slammed the door shut right in front of it.
I sat down, trembling, turned on the computer, and typed into the search bar:
“How to banish a ghost from an apartment.”
The moment I hit Enter, everything went black.
I don’t remember anything after that — just opening my eyes as my mother entered the room hours later.
It was already evening. The computer was off, the door open, the light on.
She saw my face and knew something was wrong. I told her everything. She thought maybe it was a thief, but the door was locked from inside, and nothing was missing. The only proof left — was the browser history. She scrolled it and saw my last search: “how to banish a ghost.” After that — nothing. No websites opened, nothing else recorded.
After that day, being in that apartment became unbearable. The fear turned into exhaustion. Objects would vanish or move. Things would fall without reason.
Eventually, we managed to sell the apartment and move out.
We went to live in my grandparents’ old two-room flat — both of them had died of cancer in the same year, strangely. After my grandfather’s death, we found something disturbing in his closet: a white T-shirt stained with blood, the bottom cut off as if by a knife, the stain near the heart area — and it was my size. We had checked that closet before many times; it had been empty. The shirt just appeared there. We got rid of it quickly.
But even in this new place, strange things began again. The same sense of being watched. I got used to it, ignored it. I adopted a cat — it helps.
Now I live far away, studying in another city, seven hours by plane from my hometown. This summer, I returned for work (I work with my mother, in the same company). The apartment is near forests and swamps.
And recently, the same feeling came back stronger. Sometimes I see a dark figure on the kitchen side, especially when lying in bed — a shape in the dark, watching. When I look directly — it’s gone.
But this time I have proof.
One night, around 1 a.m., I saw in the mirror a blurry shape forming — then a face. Clearly visible — with a horn. It looked demonic. Neither I nor my mother draw or touch the mirror, and only we have keys to the apartment.
Earlier that summer, something similar happened: on the TV screen appeared a handprint and then, during static interference, a huge face with two glowing eyes — staring at me. I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t even grab the phone — it was charging. Eventually, the image disappeared.
The photo of the mirror reflection — url:
That night, after seeing the mirror, I somehow managed to fall asleep. But my sleep was restless.
I woke up suddenly, fully conscious — no drowsiness — and saw a woman in black, sitting on her knees near my bed, holding a small box in her hands.
Her appearance was messy, tattered, and she was extremely close.
I was terrified, pressed myself against the wall. Then, before my eyes, she faded — like smoke — and was gone. It was not a dream. I was awake.
One more thing: since childhood, I’ve been able to feel energy with my hands. Especially the left one. I can generate warmth, pressure — even at a distance of 50–60 cm. I’ve been consciously training this ability recently. It takes less time to create that warmth now. With closed eyes, I can stop my hand right before touching objects — I feel them as warm or cold, depending on whether they’re alive.
So I came here for two reasons:
To understand what exactly is haunting or observing me, and what all of this means.
To explore what kind of energy or ability I have, and how to develop it properly.
I’ve learned to live with fear, but I don’t want to ignore it anymore. I want to face it and understand.
Thank you for reading such a long story — and for your patience.
Any insights, advice, or experiences you can share will mean a lot.
Before I start, I want to say this is not a fantasy story, not an exaggeration — it’s what really happened to me through my life, and I came here because I’ve reached the point where I need understanding and guidance.
Everything began with my birth. I probably wasn’t even supposed to be born. My health was extremely fragile; from the moment I came into this world, I caught something serious. I would often choke, couldn’t breathe, the doctors tried everything — injections, medicines — nothing worked. They gave up. My mother, desperate, decided to baptize me in an Orthodox church. And the impossible happened: the illness suddenly vanished. Just like that.
Doctors were in shock. They’d already given up on me, but life decided otherwise. That was the first miracle.
Growing up, I was quiet, mostly alone. My grandmother feared I would stay silent forever — she ironically taught me to swear, so I started cursing like a sailor in kindergarten, not even knowing what the words meant. That habit stayed for years.
I was always an outsider. Even when things seemed fine with people, I somehow ended up alone again. At first, I tried to fight that, but later I accepted it as part of my path.
Now, to the strange part — which is all true. When I was a child, I saw something. A shadow. It came to me at night more than once.
I remember clearly: I was sick, lying in bed. My family was celebrating something in the next room. Suddenly, my door turned transparent. I could see my mother through it, but she couldn’t see me.
And through that half-visible doorway, a shadow entered. It looked human, but featureless, dark. It looked at me, put a finger to its lips — a gesture to keep silent — then opened a drawer, searched for something, closed it, and stood near me.
At that moment my grandmother heard a sound from my room, came in — and instantly, the shadow disappeared. The door became solid again. When I told them what happened, nobody believed me. “Just a dream,” they said. But I knew it wasn’t.
Later, my family broke apart. My mother and I moved to a one-room apartment. She worked all the time, so I was often alone — at kindergarten, with grandparents, or home by myself.
There was a hallway with mirrors — one on a wardrobe and another on the wall behind it, creating a mirror corridor. Every evening, when darkness came, I felt something awaken there. A cold awareness, as if someone was watching me.
At night, we closed the door to our bedroom to keep that feeling away. But sometimes — the door would open slowly, on its own. Exactly like in horror films — creaking, inch by inch. I’d get up, close it again, go back to bed… and it would open again. Eventually, we stopped closing it altogether.
Then came another event: one night, while sleeping, we both heard scratching sounds — from under the bed. My mother heard it too. I looked — nothing was there, but the sound was clear, like claws scraping wood.
Sometimes the lights would explode or go off — only in our apartment, not the neighbors’. The wiring was fine, the fuse box locked. It made no sense.
And then — the main event that I will never forget.
It was daytime, my mother was at work, around 1 or 2 p.m. I was playing with toys, TV on, the light in the hallway still on.
I looked toward the doorway — and there it was. A tall, wide, dark figure standing there, faceless.
I froze in fear, hid behind the bed for several minutes, then slowly decided to face it. As I approached, I felt the air grow colder, and a deep humming sound filled the room. The closer I got, the stronger it became. When I was almost face to face, the temperature felt like ice. I slammed the door shut right in front of it.
I sat down, trembling, turned on the computer, and typed into the search bar:
“How to banish a ghost from an apartment.”
The moment I hit Enter, everything went black.
I don’t remember anything after that — just opening my eyes as my mother entered the room hours later.
It was already evening. The computer was off, the door open, the light on.
She saw my face and knew something was wrong. I told her everything. She thought maybe it was a thief, but the door was locked from inside, and nothing was missing. The only proof left — was the browser history. She scrolled it and saw my last search: “how to banish a ghost.” After that — nothing. No websites opened, nothing else recorded.
After that day, being in that apartment became unbearable. The fear turned into exhaustion. Objects would vanish or move. Things would fall without reason.
Eventually, we managed to sell the apartment and move out.
We went to live in my grandparents’ old two-room flat — both of them had died of cancer in the same year, strangely. After my grandfather’s death, we found something disturbing in his closet: a white T-shirt stained with blood, the bottom cut off as if by a knife, the stain near the heart area — and it was my size. We had checked that closet before many times; it had been empty. The shirt just appeared there. We got rid of it quickly.
But even in this new place, strange things began again. The same sense of being watched. I got used to it, ignored it. I adopted a cat — it helps.
Now I live far away, studying in another city, seven hours by plane from my hometown. This summer, I returned for work (I work with my mother, in the same company). The apartment is near forests and swamps.
And recently, the same feeling came back stronger. Sometimes I see a dark figure on the kitchen side, especially when lying in bed — a shape in the dark, watching. When I look directly — it’s gone.
But this time I have proof.
One night, around 1 a.m., I saw in the mirror a blurry shape forming — then a face. Clearly visible — with a horn. It looked demonic. Neither I nor my mother draw or touch the mirror, and only we have keys to the apartment.
Earlier that summer, something similar happened: on the TV screen appeared a handprint and then, during static interference, a huge face with two glowing eyes — staring at me. I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t even grab the phone — it was charging. Eventually, the image disappeared.
The photo of the mirror reflection — url:
That night, after seeing the mirror, I somehow managed to fall asleep. But my sleep was restless.
I woke up suddenly, fully conscious — no drowsiness — and saw a woman in black, sitting on her knees near my bed, holding a small box in her hands.
Her appearance was messy, tattered, and she was extremely close.
I was terrified, pressed myself against the wall. Then, before my eyes, she faded — like smoke — and was gone. It was not a dream. I was awake.
One more thing: since childhood, I’ve been able to feel energy with my hands. Especially the left one. I can generate warmth, pressure — even at a distance of 50–60 cm. I’ve been consciously training this ability recently. It takes less time to create that warmth now. With closed eyes, I can stop my hand right before touching objects — I feel them as warm or cold, depending on whether they’re alive.
So I came here for two reasons:
To understand what exactly is haunting or observing me, and what all of this means.
To explore what kind of energy or ability I have, and how to develop it properly.
I’ve learned to live with fear, but I don’t want to ignore it anymore. I want to face it and understand.
Thank you for reading such a long story — and for your patience.
Any insights, advice, or experiences you can share will mean a lot.
