00:00The town of Darlow had always been small, the kind of place where everyone knew each other's names and the nights were so quiet that you could hear your own heartbeat echo down. The empty streets on the far edge of town stood a narrow, two-story house with a single window facing the main road. It was an unremarkable house by day, but at night, people whispered about what they'd seen in that window a figure watching.
00:27No one knew who lived there anymore. The last family had moved out years ago, leaving the place to rot. Still, the silhouette remained. Every evening, when the streetlights flickered on, a pale outline would appear against the glass, unmoving, head slightly tilted as if studding the world below. Teenagers dared each other to go near it, but few made it past the rusted gate.
00:52One stormy night, a journalist named Claire came to Darlow chasing local legends for a small-town story column. The watcher intrigued her. She asked the townsfolk about it, that they only gave nervous shrugs and changed the subject.
01:08The old grocer finally muttered, you can go see for yourself, but don't look too long. It notices. Intrigued, Claire ignored the warning. That night, she parked across the street and waited. Midnight came.
01:24The rain slowed to a drizzle, and the moon broke through the clouds just enough to light the upper window. There it was a tall shadow, still and silent, framed by the flickering streetlight.
01:36She lifted her camera and snapped a photo. The flash lit the glass for an instant, and she thought she saw something behind it eyes. Bright and reflective, like an animal's caught in headlights.
01:48She lowered her camera, heart hammering. The window was empty. She laughed shakily, blaming exhaustion, and decided to check the photo later. But when she glanced at the camera screen, her breath caught.
02:06The photo showed the figure, clear as day standing behind her. She spun around, but the street was deserted. Only rain, wind, and silence. Uneasy, she drove back to her motel, convincing herself it was a glitch, a trick of the flash.
02:24But the next morning, when she uploaded the image, the figure was gone from the background, and now stood inside the window again, closer than before.
02:33Each time she looked at the photo, it changed slightly. The figure inching nearer to the glass, as if moving frame by frame. On the third viewing, it pressed its hand against the inside of the window pane.
02:48Claire deleted the photo. But that night, she woke to a tapping sound on her motel window slow. Deliberate. The same rhythm as the rain from the night before.
02:59She froze, staring at the curtain. Too afraid to move. When the tapping stopped, she gathered her courage. Pulled it open and saw nothing. Just her reflection in the glass.
03:12But when she turned off the light to go back to bed, she saw another reflection standing beside her in the darkness. She never screamed. The next day, her car was found abandoned outside the house on the edge of town.
03:26The camera on the passenger seat. Power drained. Memory card missing. The townspeople sealed the property for good. But still, on certain nights, when the moonlight hits just right, a tall shadow can be seen standing behind that same cracked window.
03:42Have tilted, waiting. And those who stare. Too long swear that the reflection. Shifts ever so slightly not in the window. But in their own.
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