Over the years, I’ve become fascinated by the subject of this tall Shadowman wearing a top hat. Some say that his appearance is just mass hysteria perpetrated by the media, a global fear of the dark, and the modern threat of terrorism. That just doesn’t make sense to me.
The first time that I experienced the appearance of the Hat man, I was five years old, well before I understood the media’s influence or cared about grown-up political debate or policy. I remember it vividly because it was also one of the earliest interactions I’ve had with the paranormal. I was five years old, and at that time, I was living with my mother and grandmother in a friend’s basement in Chicago. We had little money, and my father left when I was born, so we had no place to live. Back in those days, I would share a bed with my mother who would come home exhausted after working a twelve-hour shift at the local hospital. Our basement home had only one room, connected to a large living space. My mother and I slept in the living space, leaving the smaller room for my grandmother to sleep in.
One night, I was unable to fall asleep. It was pitch black and I was frightened so I bravely walked to a desk that we had against the wall to the far left, and turned on the lamp. Then I made my way back to my bed, and sat there for a while, just staring up at the ceiling. A few minutes later, I was caught off guard as the lights turned off on their own. Annoyed, I climbed off the bed and decided to turn them back on. I made my way back to the bed, and climbed back in, again looking up at the ceiling in boredom. A few moments later, the light switched off again. This time, I lay still for a moment, confused and a bit frightened, but decided to brave the darkness once more and turned on the light again. While I was there, I decided I’d take a picture book off a shelf to keep me entertained. I took the book and sat at the edge of the bed, opened it up. I couldn’t read, but liked looking at the illustrations. Then, suddenly, I felt a strange chill, and I could feel my muscles tense. I didn’t know why, but I got a strange impulse to look up from my book to the front of the house. There, I saw the outline of a man. There was no detail at all, just a large black mass. I could just barely make out the silhouette of a hat on his head. As I watched, he started walking forwards, towards me. Petrified, I looked back down at my book, unable to move. A few seconds later, I dared to look up again and the figure was gone. Just then, the light went out again, and I quickly threw the book and jumped back into bed, pulling the covers over my head and clinging onto my mother before falling asleep. I don’t know what it was that I saw that night, but it frightened the living daylights out of me.
A few months later, we received word that an uncle of mine had passed away in Mexico. We flew down for the funeral and stayed the night at his house with my aunt. The room we were staying in had a bunk bed that was adjacent to the door that led to the living room so that I could see out into it if I looked up while in bed. That night, after coming home from the service, we left the light on in the living room and the door open in my room. I was sleeping in the top bunk with my mother while my aunt slept below us. In the middle of the night, I awoke because I had to go to the bathroom. When I looked out into the living room, I was shocked to see the figure of a man wearing a top hat sitting on my aunt’s couch. The strange thing is that even though the lights were on, I couldn’t see a single detail of his face or clothing, just blackness like the light refused to touch him. As I watched, he stood up and looked at me for a split second before walking through the front door. I woke up my mother so I could use the bathroom, but I was afraid to tell her what I had seen.
It’s been years since I’ve seen the hat man, but he made his presence known to me, and he left his impact on my family. To this day, he appears in my nightmares.
–Nicole Za