This morning started out perfectly.
I’d just gotten home from a long night at work. The air was cool, the house quiet. For once, I felt good—like I was ready to conquer the day. Clean up a little, make some breakfast, reset my routine. You know that feeling when everything just feels right? That was me.
As always, I set up my camera on the counter. It’s my little habit, my way of staying motivated. I record my mornings, my cleaning, my cooking—it keeps me grounded. I didn’t know it would capture something I wasn’t supposed to see.
At first, it was completely normal. I had my back turned, chopping vegetables, humming along to the radio. Then it happened.
A low, guttural growl.
Right behind me.
It wasn’t the fridge, it wasn’t the pipes—it sounded like an animal, deep and angry. My heart dropped. I froze mid-chop, my hands shaking. And then, before I even knew what I was doing, I turned my head—slowly—toward the sound.
Nothing. Just empty kitchen.
That’s when the gut instinct hit me. Run.
I bolted out of the room, my phone still recording on the counter, facing the kitchen. I didn’t even stop to grab it.
Later, once my nerves calmed down, I went back to review the footage. That’s when my stomach turned to ice.
What the Camera Saw
It’s all there. In daylight.
• Two large shadow figures suddenly appear and rush toward Amora’s car seat on the floor—where her stuffed doll was already moving by itself.
• One of the shadows bolts toward the living room—exactly where I’d heard the growl.
• The doll twitches again, its head jerking unnaturally, like something was pulling it.
• Then… more shadows appear. Multiple dark shapes rushing across the kitchen floor, quick and spider-like—after I’d already fled the room.
All of this happened while sunlight poured through the windows.
The Part That Haunts Me
I didn’t see any of it while it was happening. Only the sound. Only that gut-deep wrongness. Everything else—the shadows, the doll, the movement—I only saw later on the playback.
And now? I can’t stop watching it.
Every time I hit play, I notice something new—another hand, another shape, another flicker in the corner of the frame.
I’m still trying to process what happened.