Vid_20230113_140821_199.mp4.mkv

Elias sat in the silence of the afternoon, the heater blowing cold air, wondering if he had captured a ghost or if the January chill had finally started playing tricks on his mind. He never went back to those woods, but every time he scrolls past that file in his gallery, he feels the same phantom shiver crawl down his spine.

The clock on the dashboard of the old sedan flickered to . Outside, the January sky was a bruised purple, heavy with the threat of another lake-effect snowstorm. Elias held his phone against the frosted window, his finger hovering over the record button. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, only that the woods behind his grandfather's cabin had felt different since the solstice. At 2:08:21 PM , he hit record. VID_20230113_140821_199.mp4.mkv

Elias zoomed in. The pixels began to break apart, creating the jagged, grainy texture that would later be labeled VID_20230113_140821_199 . Just as the shape turned toward the car—revealing eyes that looked less like pupils and more like distant, dying stars—the phone’s storage hit its limit. The screen went black. Elias sat in the silence of the afternoon,