The Stranger in My Photos 7

I woke up to the sound of glass shattering. My heart jumped into my throat. I sat up fast, but my bedroom window was still intact — perfectly fine.

My phone wasn’t.

It lay face-up on the floor, the screen spiderwebbed with cracks. But it was still on. A photo was open.

It wasn’t me this time. It was him.

He was closer than ever, staring directly into the camera. His face was too close, his eyes too wide, like he was trying to crawl through the screen. The edges of his smile looked wrong, stretched too far, like his skin didn’t fit right.

The screen flickered, static tearing through the image.

For a second — just a second — I swear his head tilted. Like he saw me watching him.

Then the screen cut to black.

I didn’t touch it, but the phone powered back on by itself. One last message waited for me:

"You're looking the wrong way."

The floorboards behind me creaked.


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