I hit play. The footage was shaky, clearly filmed by someone running. It was night, and the only light came from a flickering flashlight held by the person behind the camera. The audio was heavy with ragged, panicked breathing and the sound of dry leaves crunching underfoot.
The camera spun around, the flashlight beam cutting through the dense woods. For a split second, the light caught something tall and pale standing behind a birch tree. It wasn't a person. It was too thin, its limbs segmented like an insect's, and its eyes—if they were eyes—reflected the light like polished chrome. IMG_0430.MOV
I looked at the date stamp in the file info: I hit play
I found the phone in the "untested" bin of a dusty thrift store on the edge of town—a cracked iPhone 6s with a faded sticker of a sunflower on the back. For five dollars, I figured if I couldn't fix it, I’d at least have some spare parts. The audio was heavy with ragged, panicked breathing