I can still vividly remember the day everything changed for us. It was our tenth wedding anniversary and my husband Thomas and I had just taken a photo to celebrate the occasion. But little did we know, this seemingly innocent photo would set off a series of events that would lead us to uncover a harrowing truth.
As we posed in front of the fireplace, Thomas and I couldn’t help but reflect on the past ten years of our life together. The camera’s timer beeped and just as the flash went off, I thought I heard a faint noise from the hallway. But I quickly dismissed it, too focused on the cozy moment we were sharing. Our house, filled with memories from a decade of life together, was adorned with framed photos of our happiest times. This one would soon join the others, or so we thought.
The next morning, I woke to the sunlight streaming through the windows and the incessant buzzing of my phone. “Check that, hon,” Thomas mumbled, still half-asleep. “It’s been going off for a while.” Confused, I grabbed my phone and saw that our social media post had caused quite a stir. Comments and notifications were flooding in, but as I scrolled, confusion turned to unease.
“People are saying there’s something weird in the background of our photo,” I said to Thomas, sitting up in bed.
“Weird? Like what?” he asked, leaning over to look at my phone.
I hesitated before handing it to him. A highlighted screenshot showed a faint, childlike face near my shoulder. “What the hell is that?” I whispered, my heart racing.
Thomas tried to brush it off as a glitch or a prank, but I knew deep down that it was something more. I couldn’t let it go. I opened the original photo in my gallery and zoomed in on the shadowy figure. It wasn’t a glitch. The face was too detailed, its expression unsettling. “Thomas, look again. This… this is real,” I insisted, my voice shaking.
He was skeptical, but I was determined to find answers. I grabbed the camera and took several photos in the same spot, hoping to recreate the effect. But as I reviewed the images, my hands shook even more. Faint, ghostly outlines appeared in every picture. “Thomas, I think our house is haunted,” I said, my voice trembling.
“We’ve lived here for ten years. Don’t you think we would have noticed?” he replied, but I could tell he was feeling uneasy too.
Just then, I felt a pair of hands grip my shoulders. I screamed and spun around, only to find Thomas behind me. “Relax, love. It’s just me,” he said, trying to calm me down. “Let’s forget about this for now and go to lunch.”
But I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling. As we left the house, I caught a glimpse of movement in an upstairs window. The same pale, childlike face stared back at me. “Stop the car!” I shouted, pointing at the house. But when Thomas looked, it was gone.
That night, I was awoken by the sound of soft sobbing and footsteps echoing through the house. “Thomas, wake up. Do you hear that?” I whispered.
He nodded, grabbing his phone to call the police. “We can’t call 911 for a ghost!” I protested.
“Better safe than sorry,” he replied, reaching for his gun. “Stay here.”
“No way,” I insisted, following him into the hallway. Together, we crept towards the source of the noise. The footsteps led us downstairs, where we found a pale, malnourished boy huddled in the kitchen, tears streaming down his face.