The Stranger in My Photos 16

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My mind screamed at me to run, but my body wouldn’t listen.

The photo stared back at me — my empty room. Bed neatly made, phone charger still dangling off the nightstand. But something was wrong with the walls.

They looked… damp. Dark streaks ran from the ceiling to the floor, like the room itself was bleeding.

My phone buzzed again. Another photo.

Same room — but now the closet door was open. Wide open.

I wasn’t ready for the next buzz, but it came anyway.

The photo showed a hand. Long fingers, unnaturally bent, reaching out from the darkness inside the closet.

Then another buzz.

This time, it wasn’t a picture. It was a message.

"It’s not your room anymore."

My head snapped up. My room looked the same — no stains, no open closet — but the air felt wrong, heavy.

I stood up slowly, phone trembling in my hand. I needed to check the closet. I didn’t want to. But I had to.

I took a shaky step forward. My phone buzzed again.

Another message.

"Don’t turn around."

The floor behind me creaked.


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Continuing or withdrawal?
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The answer is up to you.......
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