The Cameras Weren't for Me

They Weren't Meant for Me

I never liked apartment living, so when I found this little house with a yard in a quiet neighborhood at a decent price, I didn’t hesitate. I moved in a month ago. The house is on Moreira Street—a row of duplexes with trimmed hedges, rusted mailboxes, and neighbors who only acknowledge each other with nods. Mine is number 37. Across the street lives an old man. I don’t know his name. He never comes out. But what I did notice from day one were the cameras. Three of them, to be exact. One mounted at the top corner of his facade, another smaller one above his mailbox, and a third—the most unsettling—positioned right by his second-floor window, pointing directly at my bedroom. At first, I told myself it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe they were just facing the street. But the feeling wouldn’t go away. One night, I tested it: I turned on my bedroom light, and sure enough—the camera rotated. Tracking me. I didn’t know if it was legal. Or how to confront someone I’d never even seen. So I bought a high-powered flashlight and blasted it at the camera whenever I felt watched, until the red light flickered off. Sometimes it took a while. Sometimes it didn’t. Then, one night, right before bed, I noticed something strange. The camera was still on… even though my neighbor’s windows were pitch black. Like no one was home. Like it was recording on its own. The next day, I worked up the courage to knock on his door. No answer. His mailbox was overflowing. The lawn was overgrown. Weird. I called out his name—not that I knew it, just to see—and a frail, muffled voice answered from inside: "Not for you…" I froze. "Excuse me?" "They’re not for you. It’s in case it comes back." Then silence. I left without another word. Slept poorly that night. Had a nightmare: someone tapping at my window from the backyard. But no one was there. The following night, I saw movement again. A small figure—like a glitch—on the doorbell cam feed. I thought it was an error. But when I paused the video, I saw it clearly: something standing at the edge of the yard. Too still. Too dark. No face. I tried to talk to my neighbor again. The police stopped me. Yellow tape across his doorway. A patrol car. A young officer taking notes. I asked what happened. They told me the homeowner had been dead for at least three weeks. Found in one of the rooms, badly decomposed. Three weeks. I moved in four weeks ago. Who spoke to me through the door? Who turned off the cameras when I shined the light? That night, his camera reactivated. And it recorded something. At 3:03 a.m., a figure emerged from the back of my house. It walked slowly across the yard, stopped at my front door, and just stood there. Staring inside. Then, in a blink, it turned to face the camera. And smiled. A technician showed me the footage when he came to deactivate the neighbor’s camera system as part of the police investigation.

He only said one thing before leaving, without even looking at me: "You should lock your windows tonight."

The Cameras Keep Rolling

I don’t know why I’m still here. I could’ve left. Packed up and gone back to my old apartment with its noise and obnoxious neighbors, but money’s tight… couldn’t afford another move so soon… After learning my neighbor had been dead for three weeks, I couldn’t stop watching the cameras. His. And now mine. I bought a cheap system—four digital eyes covering every angle: yard, front door, backyard, living room. I’m not sleeping well. Every night, I review the day’s footage. And every time… there’s something new. Something small. Something off. A shadow flickering just before 3:00 a.m. A flicker in the hallway motion lights. A silhouette crossing the living room while I’m sound asleep on my back. The worst part? I never see or feel it in real time. Only in the recordings. Three nights ago, the backyard cam caught a shadow in the window… but from the inside. I checked the other feeds. No signs of entry. Door wasn’t forced. Windows were locked. But the shadow was there. The image is clear. Yesterday morning, I found the garden cam ripped off the wall. Like someone tore it down. Maybe the wind? An animal? But there was no wind. And no animal could’ve unscrewed a wall-mounted camera so cleanly. I reviewed the footage. It only recorded four seconds before shutting off. In those four seconds, you can see it. Hard to describe. A figure. Tall. White—like it was bleached by the sensor light. No features. Standing at the hedge dividing my yard from the dead neighbor’s. Motionless. Then, in the last frame, its head turns toward the camera. Not toward the house. Toward the lens. Like it knew I was watching. Like it wanted me to. It looks like the same thing from the footage the night my neighbor died… Last night, I covered every window. Lowered the blinds. Double-locked every door. Turned off all the lights. But I didn’t leave. Don’t know why. I sat in front of the camera monitors, one for each feed. At 2:57 a.m., something crossed the backyard. Fast. Slow enough to see, but too fast to be real. The camera tracked it automatically. Then, at exactly 3:00, it stopped at the back door. Stood there. Didn’t move. For a full minute. Then stepped back… and vanished. That was last night. Right now, I’m typing this with the monitors glowing beside me. A few minutes ago, all four cameras froze at once. The still image shows my front door. And it’s open. I didn’t open it. Whatever my neighbor was trying to watch for… it’s already here. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel it now… something new living in my house…

The Discovery

Update: 3 weeks later… For a while, nothing happened. The cameras stopped picking up activity. I scrutinized every second of footage daily. Nothing. I finally started to relax. A little. Even though I wasn’t sleeping well—waking up exhausted every morning. Not just tired. Drained. Like I hadn’t slept at all. Then this morning, I understood why. I woke up to find my phone wasn’t where I’d left it (on the nightstand). When I unlocked it, the last app used was the security camera system. I checked the gallery. And found this…

Needless to say, I’m paralyzed with fear. I’ve had enough. I’m leaving this house today. Don’t know where I’ll go—maybe back to my parents’, maybe rent somewhere downtown—but I’m getting the hell out. I don’t know what this thing is or what it wants from me. But I do know my neighbor died, and somehow, he was trying to warn me. After all this, my theory? It feeds on my energy while I sleep. Siphons my vitality. Don’t know why or for what. But that’s why I wake up weaker every day. I think my neighbor went through the same thing. Somehow, he got rid of it. But he knew it might return—that’s why he installed the cameras, why he was obsessed with surveillance. And in the end… it found its way back in. Took what was left of him. But I won’t be next. I won’t.