Chapter 3 - The Ghost File
"That timestamp has to be a glitch. The factory settings must be broken."
"Factory settings don't record furniture that we bought only six months ago, Arthur."
"Then explain it! How can an empty room have a file from three years ago?"
"Dad... is someone playing a prank on us? Is this a hidden camera show?"
"Maya, honey, look at me. Did anyone give you a memory card today?"
"No, Grandpa! I didn't touch the camera, I swear!"
"Listen to yourselves! We are losing our minds over a broken glass knickknack!"
Arthur paced the length of the living room, the expensive hardwood floors creaking beneath his leather shoes. The party guests had quietly slipped out the front door ten minutes earlier, leaving the immediate family marooned in an island of unsettling silence. The broken glass sculpture still littered the coffee table, glittering mockingly under the warm lights, but its physical presence now felt secondary to the digital phantom trapped inside the camera's memory card.
Elena dropped heavily onto the sofa, burying her face in her hands. The beige blouse she wore felt suddenly suffocating. "Arthur, take the card out. Format it. Let's just pretend none of this happened. It's a bad joke. Maybe someone swapped the camera at the store."
"We bought it online, directly from the manufacturer, sealed in plastic," Arthur replied flatly, stopping his pacing to stare down at his wife. "No one swapped it."
Grandfather Thomas knelt beside Maya, gently brushing the blonde hair away from her damp forehead. He spoke in a low, calming tone, ignoring the adult panic swirling around them. "Maya, do you remember playing in this room last night? Did you see anyone near the shelf?"
"No, Grandpa," Maya whispered, her big blue eyes blinking up at him. "Mom and Dad told me to go to bed early because of the party today. I stayed in my room until you guys called me down for cake."
Thomas nodded slowly, his expression grim. He looked up at Arthur and Elena. "If the child was asleep, and we were downstairs eating dinner, who was in this room three years ago? Or more importantly... what else does that camera show?"
May you like
Arthur swallowed hard. He looked back down at the small LCD screen. His finger hovered over the playback button, hesitating. The battery indicator blinked a warning red, flashing rhythmically in the dimming light of the living room. There was only enough power left for one more viewing. If he hit play now, they would see the rest of the three-year-old file. But as he pressed his thumb against the button, the screen flickered, not to the image of the breaking horse, but to a live-feed mirror of the room they were standing in right now—except the timestamp was ticking forward in real-time, recording someone standing directly behind them.
---
