He walked away, but his mind was still stuck on the photograph.
"I know what I saw."
He was sure of it.
There had been someone standing behind his dad. He had seen the face clearly.
He remembered the eyes, the hair, the exact shape of the face.
So why was the person gone now?
Had he imagined it?
No. He didn't think so.
He stopped halfway up the stairs and looked back at the photograph lying on the floor.
For a moment, he considered going back and checking it again.
Then he heard his father calling his name.
He quickly picked up the photo and went upstairs.
He told himself he would forget about it.
But he couldn't.
Because deep down, one question kept bothering him.
Why did the picture change?
He went back down to the basement.
He couldn't stop thinking about the photograph. If the person had really
been there, there had to be something else in the basement that could explain
who—or what—it was.
He began going through the old boxes again, searching for anything connected
to the photograph.
After a while, he found an old camera buried beneath a pile of dusty things.
He picked it up and examined it. It was the kind of camera people barely used
anymore—old, bulky, and nothing like the phones and digital cameras he was used
to.
Beside it, he found an old diary.
He opened it, expecting to find nothing important.
Then he saw a name written on the first page.
His father's name.
He stared at it for a few seconds before closing the diary.
He didn't feel like reading it—not yet.
He put everything back where he had found it, went upstairs, and took the
old camera with him.
Curious, he switched it on.
To his surprise, the camera actually worked.
The screen flickered for a moment before turning on.
He smiled slightly.
How is this thing still working?
He pointed it around the room, testing it.
Everything looked normal.
Then he pointed the camera toward the hallway.
Nothing.
He lowered it.
And suddenly, he noticed something.
The camera screen was showing something that he couldn't see with his own eyes.
To be continue...🔑
