Three Creepy Things I Witnessed While Filming Shadow’s Edge
- Mike The Marine
- May 22, 2020
- 7 min read
Updated: Mar 23
They say, truth is stranger than fiction—as if daring life itself to crank up the X-factor with reckless abandon.
Filming Shadow’s Edge pushed me through the shadows of doubt and straight into a Twilight Zone believer.
When scouting locations, I searched for a place isolated yet nestled within the larger metropolis of San Diego—a forest within suburbia, so to speak. Ultimately, I found exactly what I needed in a local park. Its aesthetic on film, convenience for the crew, and availability aligned perfectly, like the stars of Orion. Plus, it made pulling off the ’80s illusion possible on my…limited budget.
I scouted the area during daylight but needed to rehearse lighting setups, test footage, and choreography at nighttime. Rehearsals were scheduled around dusk, offering perceived safety in numbers despite occasional strange encounters.
The actual filming nights told a different story.
At around 9 PM, the park transformed into something darker and far less innocent than its daytime facade suggested. On a lighter note, it oozed character—perfect for a thriller-with-a-touch-of-horror short film.
To this day, those shoot nights felt more authentically Halloween than Halloween itself. They were a front-row creep show that wasn’t scripted—it was naturally…unnatural, like stepping into a nightmare you can’t wake from.
This is the true story of the three creepiest things I witnessed while filming Shadow’s Edge.
And it all started with…a death stare.
1 - The Death Stare of Filming Shadow’s Edge
Before I can make sense of what happened next, I need to introduce my beloved cast member and fellow victim of the first creepy thing that happened on set—Andrew.
Andrew, who plays the rough-and-tumble badass Jay, fulfills another role off set: hunky male model. Imagine a young Fabio—now chop off the hair and trade his exotic accent for an American one. There you go. That’s why his face is plastered across romance novels at your local bookstore.
Back to filming. Day one. Time? Before Midnight.
This is when the fun began. One of the production assistants snapped the clapper for a brief break before our next shot. I walked over to Andrew, standing alone, hoodie drooped overhead, with a 1960s Aaron H&B slugger casually dangling in his hand (don’t worry—just a prop).
We exchanged a few words of the most dignified, respectable humor—well, as dignified as midnight jokes can get with two young guns on set. Suddenly, Andrew froze, staring intensely into the darkness beyond our bustling set.
At first, I couldn’t tell if his expression was a ruse to get my goat. Either he was deeply committed to an off-script method act worthy of Jack Nicholson, or he’d genuinely seen something disturbing. Determined not to fall victim to his antics, I refused to turn around…at first.
“Some creepy guy is looking at us behind you,” Andrew said calmly.
I laughed lightly, dismissing it as another prank.
He chuckled but firmly repeated his claim. Curiosity quickly got the better of me, and I finally turned around.
Beyond our illuminated set and the surrounding darkness stood the park’s women’s restroom—a small concrete building dimly lit beneath a sidewalk overhang. Under the amber cone of a single overhead light stood a man, partially obscured by shadows, staring at us coldly and unflinchingly.
My heart sank. We had just stepped into a real-life B-grade horror flick. Perhaps we’d disturbed his late-night bush nap—or perhaps his intentions were darker. O kisas, maybe he’d fallen in love with the only face of romance standing in our faux moonlight.
Whatever his intentions, a tingle of mortal danger crawled up my spine, through my skull, and out my eye sockets. I broke free from his stare, glancing away. When I dared to look back, he had disappeared completely. I never saw him again.
His creepy death stare put me on edge for the rest of the night. My prior hypothesis of “safety in numbers” was shattered. From then on, we were officially up a creek of creeps without a paddle.
2 - The Half-Naked Man of the Midnight Rendezvous
The death stare had set the stage for the ultimate creepfest.
I had a bad feeling more was to come.
At some point in the middle of the night (I can’t recall the exact time), a lone car parked at the edge of the empty cul-de-sac that ended near the grassy area where we were filming.
It was within roughly 100 feet or so.
The car idled for what seemed like an hour (though possibly shorter), windows fogging up suggestively. I imagined only one or two possibilities for such nocturnal shenanigans.
While many spring chickens partake in uncouth midnight rendezvous, the earlier death stare elevated this scenario to something potentially far more nefarious than nooky. My senses heightened to DEFCON 2.
After rattling in apparent angst for what felt like an eternity, the car’s engine finally shut off, the driver’s door opened, and the Super Bowl of creeps entered the halftime show.
A middle-aged black man stepped out of the vehicle, notably without pants. Beneath his absent pants, he wore nothing—no Speedos, boxers, or briefs. Just a shirt and half a birthday suit, thankfully concealed by the night’s darkness.
He wandered away from his fogged-up vehicle and began aimlessly walking about the park.
By this point, the entire cast and crew noticed the man’s odd presence. We didn’t know what to expect next.
I can’t definitively say why someone would roam a park half-naked in the dead of night, but common sense suggested illicit substances were involved.
After some time, a female companion exited the vehicle. She paced around in circles, staring intently at her phone while her half-naked partner continued searching aimlessly for sobriety’s grail.
The pair circled the park bathrooms like we’d booked front-row seats at the Kentucky Derby. At one point, the woman paused near us as we filmed, standing motionless, transfixed by her phone’s bright blue glow.
We worried the situation might devolve into something dangerous or diabolical. Whatever happened, we’d surely witness it firsthand—or worse, become unwilling participants. So we kept a cautious, watchful eye as the couple maintained their unpredictable routine.
This went on far longer than expected—perhaps an hour or more. Eventually, the two climbed back into their car and departed, leaving us relieved and perturbed.
3 - Bathroom Brawls, Unscripted Chivalry, and The Bushland Boogeyman
On the last day of filming, everything proceeded as planned—until around 2 a.m., when most of the team packed up and left. The call sheet said we’d be finished by 2, but we still had about two hours of work ahead. Thankfully, the core group stuck around to finish the final shots.
We were down to a skeleton crew: Dalton, our director of photography; Stephen, our sound recordist; and Jillian, our lighting specialist. That left me and my lead actor, Avan.
Unfortunately, our numbers had dwindled just enough to invite more creepy characters to emerge from the shadows and drift into the area we were filming.
By this point, we had moved away from the bathroom zone into a sliver of pines, and finally, into an enclave path shrouded in darkness. Without our set lights, the area was pitch-black.
Dalton, Stephen, and Jillian were helping me finish the final scenes in that secluded enclave, but most of our gear remained closer to the bathrooms on a grassy knoll. As strange individuals began drifting into the places we had previously shot, we had to rotate someone on gear-watch duty.
I also didn’t want anyone left alone for too long, so we had to constantly oscillate between the gear and the set, making sure everything—and everyone—was okay.
Right as we moved into the final location of filming, we heard a strange moaning noise coming from a dense thicket of bushes just a few feet away.
I’ve heard all kinds of animal groans, screams, and growls in my life, but this was different. If I had to describe it, it sounded like some creature croaking guttural whispers—at full volume.
Obviously, we wanted to wrap and get out of Dodge as fast as possible.
When the noise finally stopped, we continued filming.
Then came more sounds—this time from near the bathrooms where we had filmed earlier.
Through a narrow vantage point between bushes, I could just make out the dim light above the bathroom's perimeter roofing. A group of homeless people emerged from the shadows and began arguing.
It started with yelling.
Then came the fighting.
At that moment, Jillian was guarding our equipment on the knoll just before the trailhead—completely alone.
We all froze for a beat, milliseconds too late—except for one brave soul. Sir Avan, our lead actor, went full white knight. He sprinted toward the staging area, shouting Jillian’s name into the night like it was the climax of a fantasy film.
Unscripted chivalry at its finest.
Fortunately, Jillian was safe. Avan’s heroic dash turned out to be a false alarm, but the gesture was comically unforgettable—like Prince Charming in _Shrek II_ arriving to the highest room in the tallest tower, only to find Fiona already off on her honey moon.
All jokes aside, we wrapped the final shots and packed up before the bathroom brawl found its way to our side of the park.
Sometime after 4 a.m., we finally said goodbye to the land of the loons.
The crew and I capped the night with a victory breakfast at a nearby diner, just as the sun graciously rose on a wrap well earned.
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed reading about my experience shooting Shadow's Edge, subscribe to my Substack - Story Renegade. Moving forward, it will include all sorts of original stories, deep commentaries, and a peak behind the curtain of my storyteller's journey.
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