The Shadow People

By Robyn Shalhoub

Ever since Bradley Criss was in a coma at 14 years old, he has seen dead people in his dreams. He does not know why, and he does not know what they want, but they want something. That he is sure of.

Over the years, he sketches them in a series of journals that are his best kept secret until his wife finds them. Bradley promises that he will destroy them, but he cannot. He knows there is something he must do for them first.

Now more determined to find the answers he seeks, Bradley enlists the help of Tom, a man whom he meets on the internet. Tom claims that he can help people tap into their dreams to create an alternate reality. He calls this experience dream tapping.
Feeling that this is his only chance, Bradley agrees to let Tom manipulate his subconscious and enters the alternate reality that Tom promised him. Soon Bradley realizes that he is not the only one there. In addition to other dream tappers, there is danger lurking in the distance. Shadow people, who are dead but have not moved on to the afterlife, also occupy this reality. They are the same dead that Bradley has seen in his dreams for years.

When several dream tappers come up missing, the shadow people are discovered and become feared. When Meredith, a dream tapper with whom Bradley falls deeply in love, also comes up missing, Bradley is enraged.

Suspecting Tom is up to foul play, Bradley spies on the shadow people and is shocked to find out that Tom, their trusted advisor, is their leader. Not only is he encouraging them to kill the dream tappers, but he is using the shadow people to enact his own revenge on people in the real world. Bradley must then make a choice – either risk his life to save the shadow people or return home and continue to be haunted by them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robyn Shalhoub
• Release date: Aug 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301240517

Robyn Shalhoub

I have had a lifelong love of writing. I even loved writing those long essays in high school English class! The answer to the first question of my comprehensive exam for my Master's degree was 20 pages - typed! As a previously published co-author of a non-fiction manuscript (Prentice Hall, 2000), I have decided to try my hand at writing fiction. I love a good story filled with romance, intrigue and suspense. The Shadow People is my first manuscript, and I have two others in the works.Before becoming a stay at home mom in 2001, I had worked hard to earn a Bachelor's degree in International Studies from Pepperdine University and a Master's degree in International Communication from The American University.After working at several global telecommunications companies, I eventually became the Vice President of the International Mobile Telecommunications Association, located in Washington, DC. Three kids later, I made the decision to become a full time stay at home mom, and the experience for me and my children has been irreplaceable.My family and I currently reside in Sterling, Virginia, which is a suburb of Washington, DC.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Lying on his bed, Bradley Criss looked at the ceiling and thought of whom he was – a provider, a husband, a friend to many, and a communicator with the dead. No, he thought. That is just crazy. That doesn’t do the whole experience justice.

They were dead. That he was sure of. But they were alive in his dreams. He could not communicate with them no matter how hard he tried, but there they were – mutilated, wounded, bleeding and alive.

So maybe witness of the dead, but not really dead and still living in his dreams would be a better description of himself at this point. He laughed at himself, how crazy he had become, how crazy it had all become.

Every day, he thought about them. Every day, he wondered who they were and why they kept coming to him. He wished he could talk to someone about it, run it past them and get their opinion, but he couldn’t. No one knew – not his wife, not his friends and definitely not anyone in his family. Yet somewhere deep inside he felt like he would eventually figure it all out. Eventually he would find out a way to help them, give them what they want, and they would go away, never to taunt him again. A part of him didn’t want to let them down if they really needed him.

He never let anyone down – not his wife, not his two children, not his parents, not his friends. He worked hard to take care of everyone, to be the best man he could be. Figuring out this one part of his life was on the backburner yet again. He and his wife, Caroline, were now consumed with finding a new home.

After weeks of looking, they finally found the perfect brick house on a hill in a safe suburb. When they were packing to move, Caroline found a stack of notebooks in a box at the bottom of their closet. She had never noticed the box before because it had been covered and taped shut. Curious, she cut the tape and looked inside. There she found the stack of tattered notebooks.

Bradley? she called.

Yes, honey? he said.

Come in here. I need to show you something, she said.

As he turned the corner to enter their walk-in closet, he saw her looking at a page in the notebook. It was a picture that Bradley had drawn of a sad, young woman with a knife in her chest. Caroline looked at him with horrified eyes. What are these? she asked.

Oh, Bradley said. He was speechless, filled with shame and embarrassment. He didn’t know what to tell her. Would she believe him or would she think he was crazy? He closed the closet door so the kids wouldn’t overhear and struggled to find the words. There is something I need to tell you.

His monotone voice scared her. Was he a murderer? she wondered. Who were all of these mutilated, murdered and obviously dead people on page after page of the notebook?

Remember when I told you I was in a coma when I was young? he asked, trying to sound upbeat.

Yes, she said weakly.

Well, I saw a lot of creepy images during that time. You know how in a near death experience, people usually see light and feel happiness? Well, I saw dead people. Many of them. I saw people with their faces blown off, blood all over them, a knife through the chest, he said as he pointed to the image she was looking at. She gasped and covered her mouth.

He let the thought sink in for a minute but finally had to break the silence. At least I think they were dead. I didn’t understand it. I still don’t understand it.

So why the drawings? she asked.

Well, I never told my parents this, but after I got home I still saw the same people and many more in my dreams. I didn’t know if it was the coma that did it or what, but they appeared in my dreams all the time. It seemed like I had some sort of connection with them, that maybe they were trying to communicate with me, he said with a nervous laugh. I know it sounds ridiculous but I didn’t know what else to do other than sketch them, write down everything I could about them and keep some sort of record of them for later… when I had time to figure all of this out.

Wow, Bradley, why didn’t you ever tell me about this? she asked sternly.

I don’t know. It’s just one of those things I have never told anyone. I thought it might freak you out or make you worried. And it just never seemed the right time, he said trying to think of some believable excuse.

Bradley, what are you saying? she said.

Bradley stumbled with his words. I know it sounds crazy, he said.

Yes, it is crazy, she said as her voice became sterner. She stood up and grabbed his face. Looking straight into his eyes, she said, You are not psychic. There is no reason dead people would be in your dreams. Everyone has crazy dreams, and they mean nothing. You wake up and they are gone. This is weird, Bradley.

She didn’t know if she was more scared about his mental state or the fact that she thought she knew everything about this man, but apparently she did not. And this thing, this weird obsession, was just not normal.

Listen. I don’t expect you to understand. It’s one of those things no one can understand unless you experience it, and I have experienced it for so long. I just need to figure out what they want from me, what I need to do for them, and then I think they will leave me alone. I just haven’t had the time to do it, he said. He somehow just wanted to end the conversation because he realized that she wasn’t going to be understanding.

Please stop this, she pleaded. If anyone found these, they could think you had something to do with their deaths. It could put us all at risk. Do you understand?

He paused. A thousand thoughts were running through his head. Was he putting his family at risk? Did this craziness need to stop? Was he taking it too far? You are right, honey, he finally said. He stroked her hair and forced a smile.

Todd, their son, began calling Caroline. Bradley said, Don’t worry, honey. I will put this where it belongs.

Good, she said sarcastically, and she walked away.

Bradley took a deep breath. He carried the box outside and placed it in the trunk of his car. He covered it with a blanket so it wouldn’t be seen. He wasn’t about to throw it away. She didn’t understand, and he knew no one would understand, but he was going to continue. Now she made his determination even more strong. He had to figure it out for himself, and he had to figure it out soon. If Caroline knew he wasn’t going to stop, it could jeopardize his marriage and possibly their safety, but it was a risk he had to take.

Chapter 2

As he walked back into the house, he heard a crack, and he jumped back. It was only the sound of his new neighbor throwing a stack of shingles on the driveway, but it was enough to remind him of that day – the day that changed everything.

He looked up at the blue sky, smelled the air, and it all came back to him. It was the final game of the season, and it was bittersweet. Bradley’s team was in second place and playing the first place team. This would be his final season in baseball.

Parents on both sides filled the stands in anticipation of a win. It was a warm June day with the sun relentlessly shining on the visitors stand while the home stand was thankfully covered in shade from nearby trees. Siblings and friends ate hot dogs from the concessions stand which was nothing more than a white hut manned by parent volunteers. A group of kids played in the dirt around a large tree next to the hut.

Everyone heard the loud crack from the bat as the ball it smacked went beaming toward second base. All Bradley remembered was hearing the cheers of the opposing team. Bradley’s glove was confidently stretched toward it when something caught the corner of his eye – a squirrel on the field. Distracted by a quick glance, the ball smacked him like a brick on the left side of his head right above his ear. His helmet cracked, and he fell to the ground in one full motion, like a domino that had just been knocked over. The coaches and umpires waited for Bradley to return to his feet but he did not. The coach then rushed onto the field. Bradley, are you ok? he asked, kneeling next to his fallen player.

Bradley opened his eyes and saw the blue, cloudless sky spinning. Yeah. I am fine, he said weakly. The coach lifted him and helped him walk to the dugout, motioning to the assistant coach to replace him with another player. In the distance, he could hear the fans cheer for him.

Bradley’s mom rushed over to the dugout. She couldn’t get inside because parents were not allowed, and the access gate was locked. She stuck her fingers through the holes in the woven wire fence that surrounded the dugout and pressed her face against it. The coach carried Bradley close to her.

Bradley, are you ok? she asked as she hid her worry with a smile. He closed his eyes and opened them again but made no verbal response. I think I need to take him to a doctor, she said to the coach. The next thing he remembered was being carried to the car by Jason Bright’s dad. Then it all went black… until he saw blue, empty space surrounding him.

The blue space turned into speckled with images that flashed in front of him, one after another, too quickly to comprehend. He saw bright lights flashing. He heard the overlapping sounds of muffled voices but could see no faces. Nothing made sense, and he was unable to move one muscle in his entire body.

Then the images became clearer. He saw his dog. He reached down to pet him, and his hand went right through him as if he were made of air. Then the image switched. He saw a car driving past him and recognized two of his friends inside. They were laughing. He then saw the basketball hoop outside his house and saw himself playing basketball with his friend, Scott, who had tragically died a year earlier. Why and how was Scott there? Why was he seeing himself there? Why couldn’t anyone see him? Why couldn’t his mind focus on one thought? he remembered thinking. Then all went black again.

Moments later, he heard overlapping voices that wouldn’t silence. Then the blue space returned, and he was walking. The blueness stretched as far as he could see, but there was nothing else around him. No scenery, no landmarks, just blue. He felt his feet dangle, and he looked down. There was nothing beneath him. He was floating. He then saw lights – beautiful purple, vibrant green, orange with golden edges. Bubbles floated past him. He tried to reach out for them but as soon as he would stretch out his arm, they would float gently away. Where was he? Why was he floating? he thought. He was frightened but at the same time filled with wonder and warmth.

He felt a rush of wind lift him, higher and higher. He waved his right hand back and forth. As he did, he saw a trail of brilliant colors following his motion. Back and forth, and back and forth. The colors had sparkles and florescence. Was he on drugs? he thought. He had heard about people having hallucinations on drugs but had never experienced it himself. Maybe he took some drugs and just couldn’t remember. Or maybe he took some accidentally. He had no idea where he was or how he got there.

He was so mesmerized by all of the bright colors around him that he didn’t notice that he was falling. Finally, he felt his body hit something hard. He was dazed, and his back hurt. He looked around and saw that he was on a beach. He was sitting on sand and a massive body of water was in front of him.

Suddenly an image appeared in front of him. It was a woman in a green dress covered in blood. She looked sad and tired. Her dress was torn, and he could see the blood in her hair. Her noticed something bright and shiny. As he strained to see it, he realized what it was – a knife in her chest.

Instead of being frightened, he felt sadness for her and wondered how she met such a horrible demise. She reached out her hand to him, but he didn’t want to take it. He wanted nothing to do with her. Did she want to take him somewhere? he thought. She fell to the ground and began to crawl to him. He inched backwards away from her. She seemed desperate, and he couldn’t imagine what she might do if she got her hands on him.

He turned, struggled to jump to his feet and started running. As he ran, another image appeared to his right– a man. He was sitting and staring at something between his legs. As Bradley came closer, the man looked at him. Bradley stumbled when he saw that half of his face was missing. As he ran further, more images appeared – another woman with her throat slit, a man with a noose around his neck, a girl with two cuts in her wrists. All were helpless, all were silent and all were looking at him, but why? What did they want from him? And why were they all here? Why was he seeing dead people, and why weren’t they dead? He couldn’t seem to escape them. The more he ran, the more they appeared. Bradley opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

He finally turned and began running the other way, hoping to escape them. Instead, he saw a group of people in front of him. They were standing there, staring at him with expressionless faces and dark eyes. To his right a man appeared who was also staring at the same group of people. After he appeared, the mass turned black, like black smoke. Purple dots appeared where their eyes used to be, and then they vanished. The man staring at them vanished too.

Scared and wandering, Bradley began to run toward the ocean and tripped, planting his face in the sand. As he sat up and brushed the sand off his arms, he saw the back of a figure suddenly sitting in front of him. He didn’t move. Then the figure turned to him, and he saw that it was his friend, Scott. Bradley’s mouth dropped open, but no sounds escaped.

Do you know where you are? Scott asked. Bradley sat there, speechless. He had no idea where he was. He was seeing dead people, and they were scaring the shit out of him. He had no idea why Scott was there, why he was on a beach, why the group of people he saw had turned into black shadows with purple eyes, why his screams were mute. So to answer his question – No, he had no idea where he was. They stared at each other in silence, and then Scott said, You shouldn’t be here. It’s not your time. Scott touched his hand, and all went black again.

Chapter 3

When Bradley’s eyes opened, he saw a white puckered ceiling with large tiles separated by aluminum rails. He could hear his mom’s voice. Oh, thank God! she said as he felt her warm hand stroke his forehead. Call the doctor! Call the doctor!

Who was she shouting at? Why was she calling a doctor? Bradley thought as he looked around the room.

Finally, a woman appeared, dressed in a blue smock and black pants. Is something wrong? she said.

No. Nothing is wrong! Bradley is finally awake! his mom said crying and laughing at the same time.

Bradley struggled to speak but only heard a variety of sounds come out of his mouth. His mind was foggy, and his speech was slurred. Shhh…Shhh, she said, caressing his arm. Don’t try too hard to speak. You will be able to soon. Don’t worry. Bradley could see tears in her eyes but had no idea of what the fuss was all about. Soon he learned that he had been in a coma for three days.

Bradley never told anyone about the images he saw during his coma. He wasn’t even sure what he had experienced. Dead people? Murdered people? Friends? Himself? Dark, shadowy people? It didn’t make any sense.

He couldn’t tell his parents. They were already worried enough about his post-coma condition. He didn’t want to make them feel in any way that he had been affected negatively by it. His friends? He never told them because surely they would think he was crazy. It was particularly disturbing that he saw Scott, and he couldn’t get out of his mind what Scott had said to him. That it wasn’t his time. His time for what? His time to die?

When he was finally taken home, he thought everything would return to normal, but it didn’t. The first night he slept in his bed, he saw her again – the woman in the green dress, standing off in the distance. They could see each other, and her sad eyes just stared at him. She didn’t say a word and didn’t reach out to him. Even if she had, he would have never taken it, ever.

And night after night, the others appeared – the man with half of his face blown off, the young man in a home-made noose, the girl with the slit wrists, the woman with the cut throat – and even more - a boy struggling in the ocean as if he were drowning, a man with a swollen and blue face, a woman with bruises. He tried to get near to them, to see if he could help them, but he never could. It was as if there was a force field between them that he could not cross. Occasionally, he would try to speak to them, but his words were mute. Although he mouthed them, not a sound came from his lips.

Sometimes he saw Scott. He appeared suddenly like a ghost. Every time he saw him, his hand gently touched Bradley’s and he said, You shouldn’t be here. Then he vanished. One night Bradley awoke suddenly after Scott’s warning and stared into the empty space of his bedroom. He whispered, Scott, as he rubbed his forehead. Scott was the only one who could get close to him, Scott was the only one that could talk to him. He was the key, but he wondered, The key to what? What am I supposed to do? He fell back on his bed and closed his eyes.

Over the years, they didn’t come every night but often enough. That was when he decided to keep a journal of them. Each person had a page dedicated to him or her. He started off with a sketch. If the sketch was bad, he looked through a magazine and cut out the pieces he needed –