RESURRECT DEAD ON PLANET JUPiTER

Shadow Being psychosis II, into the arctic

So the other day I was reading a message board thread on shadow beings, when I came across a story that is so entertaining, it trumps anything I could otherwise post this evening.

Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve mentioned shadow beings on this site. What are they? The only thing that can be said for sure is that they are a phenomenon occasionally perceived by the human mind. Whether or not the mind also creates them is the part I won’t get into here.

All in all, they’re my favorite kind of paranormal. Like an Edgar Allen Poe style apparition, they blend the mind with the ‘ether.’ The story that I’m about to post has all the right ingredients… for terror. A scientist, the natural world, isolation, ruins, supernatural forces of good and evil, fear, love and rationality. Great story:

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When I was younger, my job often found me deep in the forests of Northern Canada for prolonged periods, often alone. Vast areas of the Northwest are uninhabited, seldom visited by even the aboriginal peoples. Anyway, years back I was way up in Northern Manitoba, weeks away from any settlement or even a road, and by this sizeable lake off of one of the old canoe-routes of the Fur Trading days. I’d been flown in for a four week project, to check on some tests - boring science stuff, in other words - After I was done with work, I’d ramble around a bit, and it was on the third or fourth day that I came across an abandoned cemetery by the shore, all overgrown with weeds and underbrush.

Not much farther from there I discovered a chapel, or what was left of it. I’d heard that you could find them here and there, in the North; mostly made by Jesuit missionaries, I think. It couldn’t have held more that 15 people in it, tops; the roof was gone, as well as part of the east wall by where the door used to be. But the altar at the front was still there, and despite a healthy-looking fir-tree growing up out of the floor, when I got a closer look at it, it was intact, just abandoned and left to nature.

There was room to stand up and move around at the front of the building, once you squeezed around its solitary evergreen occupant. I felt like the luckiest man in the world, really, because every time I went out on long trips like this I always found myself missing Church. What a wonderful answer to my prayers! So the very next day, I started to repay the favour, and began clearing away the brush and weeds from the little cemetery.

I found about twenty graves altogether, not all of them with marker stones. It was easier to see the outline of a little rock-wall that once marked its borders after all the undergowth was gone, and the entire job was done over a span of 2 days. The chapel itself was easier, really, because I couldn’t really do much except clean it up a little and repair part of the wall, but I loved the work, it completely cured me of loneliness. I found myself humming the angelus as I worked.

As the days went by, I took to going down there to say my prayers in front of the altar beside the fir tree. When everything I could do for the little place had been done, I got the idea that I would shift some things from the pre-fab hut I was staying in, and spend the night down at the chapel. It had been growing in my mind, that whoever had been buried there might not have had anyone to pray for them in a long time, so I planned to use Saturday for a vigil. The weather was looking to turn mean and wet, so I got this big blue tarp that covered the wood pile, and with a little huffing and puffing, rigged a roof over the front of the chapel, relying on my evergreen companion to keep the doorside dry.

After you spend a long time in the woods, away from noise and people, you get used to the normal sounds of day and night in the woods. Seeing shadows, and glittering eyes, looking at you from the edge of a campfire are okay, especially if you take precautions about your food, and you have a firearm handy. Animals are curious too, but not stupid.

I lit a fire outside the doorway, and got it going good, but when I lit some candles and put them on the altar, it suddenly got very quiet. Not a sound outside, even from the flies and mosquitoes. I looked outside. The sun was down, and it was getting dark. The campfire threw its light out in a big ring of about 25 feet from the doorway. At the very edge of the light and just in front of the trees, I could see a figure, standing there. It was like a solid shadow, human in form, but featureless. It so plainly stood out from the background, I knew I wasn’t mistaking it for a tree. I grabbed the rifle, at first thinking it was a bear, standing up on its hind legs. As I did this the figure took a step closer, inside the ring of light now. I could see that this was not a bear. It was not a man, either, but made up of shadow. I made the sign of the cross, and dug my rosary out, holding the crucifix up to the figure. I was scared, to put it mildly. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, something like, ‘God Bless you, and good evening”. That seemed to make the figure shift back a bit, so I said a little louder, ” May God Bless you, stranger, in the Name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen.’ and I made the sign of cross with the crucifix in my hand. This definitely got a reaction. I got this feeling of sudden freezing cold, and could suddenly see my breath. At the same time the figure vanished, but I got this powerful feeling of fury, I don’t know how to describe it…directed at me I guess. Then after a bit, the cold was gone. I watched by the door for a long time, then went inside. I prayed all the night through, and kept the campfire going. It rained hard, but I was okay, and by sun up, was a bit tired, but a lot calmer and a hold of myself.

I packed and went back to my camp, and what a surprise when I got there. The place looked like it had been hit by a twister. The door of the hut had big holes knocked into it, the woodpile was scattered all over. Much of the equipment stored outside was broken and smashed. I went inside, fearing for my food and the radio, but everything inside was untouched. I wondered at the time, if it might not have been because I had hung a little crucifix over the bed, and placed a St Benedict’s medal over the door.

I radioed in to let them know about my ’storm-damage’. Because of the loss of equipment my trip would be cut short, but not short enough, to my liking. Due to the ongoing bad weather, it was a week before the plane finally came to get me.( During the wait, I moved into the chapel.) Although I never saw the figure again, I was jumpy and on my guard, all the time. I usually hated going back to the smells and noise of city life, but this time I was only too happy to leave. Nothing like that night ever happened again, and on other occasions, I’ve seen these shadows or wraiths, but that was scariest encounter with some kind of evil I ever experienced. I was alone, weeks from help, and only the blessings of a rosary, crucifix and a couple holy medals, plus whatever remained of blessings upon the old ruin. Talk about hair-raising!