It’s a newspaper article about a recently reported sighting of a homeless person seen sleeping outside the house on the lawn. Police were called to investigate and upon their arrival found the man to be dead. Judging from the multiple stab wounds on the body and her throat having been slashed, the coroner, who had been called in by police, assessed the body had been there for several days.
The body was discovered by some kids fishing on the front side of the house facing the bay. As such, nearby neighbors and passersby wouldn’t have necessarily seen it from the street. It was almost hidden underneath the porch.
According to the newspaper article, police have no leads but are assuming someone in the neighborhood is responsible. The investigation is ongoing. Police listed their number and asked people to call with any information they may have. A reward by CrimeStoppers was in development.
Until I saw the article I had not thought much about my harrowing experience several months ago. But now my mind was filled with questions. Was it all bad dream? Was I sleepwalking? How can I coexist in one dimension? And what’s with this ghostly shadow? Is it actually alive? Part of me wanted to travel back to the house and check with police for any clues or ideas, like what happened to the knife that slashed her throat, and who was this person? Was she staying at this Airbnb? Was she a tourist who got too close to whomever or whatever? And, of course, why was she murdered? Was the murderer trying to cover up something?
So many questions. Few answers. Fewer leads.
Not being able to stay away, I drove back down to Kemah to be near the crime scene. Though it was an active scene, it was not nearly as active as it was shortly after the murder, several months ago.
There was only one policeman standing guard and watching over things. As I approached him, he was a tall, burly man with a very short haircut and piercing eyes. I thought at the time he must be quite intimidating in the interrogation room.
I introduced myself and told him about my previous experiences here and why I had returned. The striking rays of sunshine had now given way to an eerie overcast shadow of clouds and drab. It was nearing evening time and the house had become overtaken by evening shade. It was winter time after all and a biting wisp of a cool breeze had begun to creep into the environment.
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Soon the late afternoon shadows had faded into night and lights in the house began to illuminate the house’s interior. Just as the policeman and I were wrapping up our conversation, I looked over the man’s left shoulder and commented that the housekeeper must be making her rounds to set up the house for night.
Stan, the cop, asked me what made me say that. I told him I just saw her shadow moving from room to room turning on selective lights and closing several shades. He smiled but with a questioning look and asked me what made me say that.
I told him about her shadow moving from room to room and he responded by telling me there was no one in the house. All the guests had moved out and the caretakers were staying at the house next door. There was simply no one home so I couldn’t have seen any movement inside.
I suggested we both go inside to investigate. He agreed and the two of us proceeded to approach the entrance. When inside there was an eerie quiet of a house that seemed abandoned. As we began our ascent upstairs on the staircase we suddenly stopped and looked at this ghost-like shadow hovering over the very top of the stairs.
We both stood there, frozen, not knowing exactly what to do next. I suggested we gradually move on up the staircase and see what the shadow would do. I no sooner suggested our next move than the shadow moved away down the upstairs hallway.
As I nudged Stan upward toward the top of the stairs, I also noticed he had drawn his gun. When we rounded the corner to the upstairs hallway, we immediately saw the shadow seemingly waiting for us. This time it had a knife that was pointing towards us.
Again we both froze and started to observe the shadow’s next movement. It did nothing other than simply hover by the door to an upstairs room. As we moved closer to the door, the shadow moved inside the room. That was when I noticed droplets of blood on the floor.
I pointed this out to Stan who just gave me a concerned look as we entered the room. There on the floor lay the apparent next victim, complete with several blood stains on her white blouse and, just like our victim outside, her throat cut.
The shadow seemed to be hovering over the body apparently wanting to present to us its latest triumph.
“Are you responsible?,” blurted out Stan. No response from the shadow. It just stayed there, hovering in place.
Just then I thought I heard something coming from down the hall. I whispered to Stan I was going to take a look while he stayed with our shadowy friend. I slowly walked down the hallway until I was stopped by a rush of cold air. Startled, I tried to regain my composure before moving on; I didn’t get very far.
I was soon confronted with another shadowy figure, this one dripping with what appeared to be seaweed. I stopped and breathing heavily I stammered out loud “Hello. I mean you no harm. I’m investigating a murder.” I felt absolutely stupid trying to talk to a shadow, even one dripping with seaweed.
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As before, the shadow guided me into a nearby room and hovered over what appeared to be another body. “Did you do this,?” I inquired. No answer, not that I was expecting any.
Thinking I would slowly back out of the room, I headed back down the hallway to find Stan whom I had left with “shadow #1”. When I got to the room, no Stan and no shadow. I called out for Stan but no response.
Now I’m feeling really uneasy. I thought I would proceed down the hallway and down the stairs yelling for Stan. As I did so, there was no answer.
“What the hell happened?” I thought. I did not have a good feeling about this. As I slowly began to descend down the stairs, I tripped over something and almost tumbled down to the first floor. When I gathered myself, I looked back up the staircase to see what I had tripped over.
To my horror, it was Stan. He had been stabbed multiple times and his throat had been slashed, just like the other two. Same M.O. Only this time there was no gun. So now, I thought, we have a knife-wielding shadow with a loaded gun! That did not make my day!
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Once I gathered myself a little, I made my way outside to the courtyard and called the police to give them an update. I wasn’t sure how I would explain the shadows or if I should even try.
About half an hour later the police arrived and started questioning me. I thought it best to explain things from the beginning. If they thought I was crazy, on drugs or whatever, so be it.
After my explanations, I guided them inside the house to show them the bodies, including the most recent one on the stairwell where Stan’s body was and . . . No Stan. I couldn’t believe this. I had no answer.
We then proceeded to the first room and went over to the bed where the body was earlier. It was empty. The police looked at me very suspiciously. I had no answer.
The only clue I could think of was the sudden rush of cold air I felt when I walked down the hallway following the shadow as he led me to this room. What did that mean? Then there’s the knife and gun: How could a shadow even grasp either? It’s a shadow, after all; it’s not human. It has no arms or legs to help maneuver.
The police naturally started looking around the room and the surrounding area for clues to establish some theory about what happened. I don’t know if they believed me or not.
Question is - could we find clues and even act on them before another murder takes place? At this point in time I had no idea. Until the CSI came up with something, we were lost.
If they could find the knife or gun perhaps they could determine what trace elements of blood or hairs or prints of any kind that may be present. When I suggested that to the police they were going to contact their Crime Scene Investigators or CSI to come over and scrutinize the house and outside.
It seemed like only a few minutes but before long the CSI had arrived and scattered all over, in and around the house. As they got heavy into their investigation, I considered the possibility of waiting till dusk and quietly going back into the house where I hoped I would encounter the shadow again.
Maybe he was trying to warn me of, I don’t know, my impending doom? But he or it never tried to harm me. It’s that little sliver of hope that makes me think he won’t try to kill me; that is unless I’m already dead.
I didn’t plan on advising the CSI of my intentions. I just wanted to see how this would play out. I also felt that the shadow would not harm me. Not sure why I felt that but I did. When we first met and exchanged pleasantries, he led me to another room, to show me something. And that something was . . . me!
And so I waited. Inside the room where my body had once been. Only now it or I had reappeared. Still in bed, still in repose.
Though I was not really worried I was anxious. I was sorta betting my “2nd life” on a hunch that he would not harm me.
Then the moment of truth came, well sort of. All of a sudden the room became slowly darkened as if someone was controlling the light switch. It also became increasingly cold. Made me wish I was wearing a sweater or jacket.
Just then I heard a quiet, somber voice saying “Welcome back.” Startled, I sat up in my chair and looked all around to locate the source of the mysterious greeting. I found and saw nothing.
I began to think to myself “Did I really hear what I thought I heard?” So, I calmly said “Thank you. It’s nice to be back.”
Continuing, I said “Sir, to whom am I speaking?” No answer.
I said again, “Sir, to whom am I speaking?” Again, no answer.
After several minutes of eerie silence, the voice said, “You don’t know? Shame. Shame. I thought you would obviously know this voice.”
“Well I don’t recognize it,” I said. “You should,” intoned the voice. “After all, it’s you!”
“How can it be me if I’m dead? And that’s supposed to be me over there in bed,” I sternly retorted.
The shadow was different so it had to be dealt with differently. I was still curious about a statement it had previously made that I should have recognized its voice since it was mine. Could I, in fact, be the shadow? If so, what happened to me?
The shadow said nothing, only still hovering over my body in the bed. A most perplexing scenario I thought. Maybe it is of the mind that it really doesn’t give a damn anymore. If that’s true, I thought, what caused it to be like this? I also realized I may never know.
For the next few minutes, again, silence. I had even forgotten how cold it had become since I got so caught up in trying to converse with a voice in the dark that was supposedly me. I’ve heard of talking to oneself but this was beyond ridiculous.
Suddenly, the room became slightly less dark and in the room now, beside the bed, appeared my friend, the Shadow.
First, it glanced down at the body in bed and then its “gaze” seemed to focus on me. At this point I have no idea what it’s up to.
As I sat there in a sort of twilight haze, I felt more anxious for answers. “So, what have you in store for me?” I asked politely but firmly.
“You don’t know?” it intoned. “Well, I’m not sure,” I stated. “When I first encountered you, you had already done away with two or three people. I mean, what the hell did they ever do to you?” I retorted.
“This is my house. I decide who lives here, who comes and goes. I decide, no one else. Understand?
“It’s always been like that and it shall remain so,” the shadow firmly stated.
“Okay,” I said, not wanting to be argumentative. “But you can’t just murder people simply because you don’t want them to live here. Anyway, don’t a lot of people who come to this divine old house only plan to stay the weekend as opposed to permanently? Unless, of course, you want the horrible rumors that will be generated by your murders to spread. That’s not great PR. Or do you really not give a damn?” I concluded.
And then the shadow, as if awakening me from a short slumber, slowly moved over to where I was and, to my surprise, enveloped me and whisked me away down the hall. I tried to speak but could not.
Next thing I knew we were on the roof, gazing down on a still ongoing CSI investigation. Without saying anything, the shadow “deposited” me on the flat surface of the roof and then started swirling around violently. Before I knew it, the shadow, as I had seen it, expanded dramatically and swept down on top of the CSIs below, completely encasing them. Just as quickly as it had done that, the shadow vanished. When I got up off the roof’s floor, I peered down onto the scene below.
Bodies everywhere. All still. As if time itself had stopped. Nothing moved. All dead.
What was I to think or do? The shadow proved it was a power with which to be reckoned. It was supernatural, not just something that appeared everyday.
I first saw me in bed already dead. Have no idea how long I had been there. That night the shadow was my guide.
Seems the shadow holds the key to all of this. I can’t be dead and be the shadow at the same time. But I felt I was losing myself to the shadow, that I was gradually becoming one with it.
Was the shadow trying to merge with me so that I could become the new overseer of the house? Or was it simply going to take over my body? I feared it may very well do that without involving my mind; after all, it still wanted control.
What was I supposed to do at this point? I’m still standing by myself on the roof where the shadow put me down. Before I had time to think about my predicament I felt a strange sensation as if every nerve in my body was being rewired.
As this sensation grew in intensity, some of my natural instincts and feelings were going away. I could no longer feel my hands and feet, and my face had gone numb.
What was happening to me? I honestly felt like I was disappearing from this world. Then my vision went; I was suddenly blind. After a few minutes my entire body felt encased in a comforting but uneasy cloud-like atmosphere. I was not in control any longer; my body had been completely taken over by the shadow.
I heard something. It was a voice, a very familiar voice. “Welcome back. Welcome home,” intoned the voice. That voice was mine but I wasn’t speaking. It was the shadow and it had taken complete control of me.
I seem to be drifting over to the roof’s edge. “Expecting to see something?” the voice questioned softly. I couldn’t answer. The shadow softly pointed out to me that on the grounds below there was nothing but grass. All the bodies were gone. No trace of any wrongdoing.
“I leave no trace,” said the shadow. “No trace, no suspicion,” it calmly told me as if talking to itself.
What will happen to the “Poe House,” this hidden little house of horrors by the bay?
“This is all ours,” the shadow told me. “I still decide who stays and who goes, if they leave at all. This is my house, by the bay. It shall remain so until we are no more. And that won’t be until eternity itself ends,” hysterically laughed the shadow.
Edgar Allan Poe