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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Verastahl on 2023-08-10 23:06:30.
Having your house broken into is bad on a lot of levels. Even when you aren’t home at the time, there’s always that thought of what if you had been home? Would they still have come in, and if so, what would you have done? What would they have done?
Then there’s the inconvenience of the cops and the clean-up, and if they take or damage too much, weeks of dealing with the insurance company too. A bunch of bullshit hassle when all you wanted to do is come home to your life away from the world and find it the way you left it.
But the worst part is the sense of wrongness. Of invasion. And it’s not just that someone entered space that was supposed to be safe and just for you. It’s that it reminds you of the fact that it can happen anywhere, at any time. That no space is truly safe.
When I was twenty-three, somebody broke into my apartment. I was pretty broke at the time too, so they didn’t get much, but the feeling they left behind stuck. I invested in better locks and door stop sticks. And when I got my own house, my first big purchase was an alarm system and a set of cameras.
Where I live is off the beaten path a little bit—I’m in a neighborhood of sorts, but at the tail end where it looks like the woods behind the development might eat my house and the ones down the street before too long. Someone has to work to find me, in other words, and my little piece of quiet really is full of peace and quiet.
And then last week, my phone buzzed.
Your Backyard Camera has seen something.
I frowned down at the notification. It wasn’t the first time I’d ever seen a similar notification from my phone, but other that me, my sister when she visited, or the occasional delivery person, it was rare. I usually went out to meet friends, the mail was delivered down at the street, and the cameras were all set to not go off at the sight of a passing bug or squirrel.
Even rarer was the backyard camera going off. It was fenced in and it was a rarity that anyone went back there but me. The one time I remembered getting a notification from that camera that wasn’t me it had been a fat possum waddling along the top of the back chainlink fence last summer. But this wasn’t that.
It was a person.
Not that I saw them in the footage when I noticed the alert the next morning. No, they kept themselves clearly out of view when lifting the piece of cardboard to the camera. The black marker words printed across the paper swam in and out of focus as the camera adjusted, but I managed to pause it well enough to read them after a couple of tries.
WE CAN NEVER MEET. SO THIS WAY. U R NOT SAFE. HE WILL COME. FOR YOU. GET GUN. KILL HIM FIRST.
I felt my mouth go dry as I scrubbed the video back and watched it over again. There was no sound, but I could see some flicker of movement as the sign was pulled away again. I had a sense that whoever had held it up had run back to the rear gate and left that way in a hurry. Heart pounding, I went to the back door and looked out.
There was no sign of anything misplaced or left behind or…no, wait. The back gate on the fence wasn’t latched. It had swung back closed, but not hard enough to latch it.
Going out into the yard to pull it closed, I felt the familiar feelings of violation and fear begin crawling up my sides, each hooked nail digging into my ribs as they scuttled up and coiled into my brain. What was this? Some kind of prank or neighborhood kids? I felt a flair of anger at the thought, but some relief too. If it could be explained away as stupid kids, at least it wasn’t really anything to worry about.
That afternoon I called the police, and when they sent around a cop an hour later, I had the video already downloaded on a USB stick and had written down the timestamps and everything I saw. The officer was nice enough, but I could tell he wasn’t overly concerned, and when I threw out the idea of pranking kids, he happily jumped on the idea with an enthusiastic nod. I thanked him for his time and then went around to all the cameras, making sure they were all adjusted to be at the best angles for any future visitors.
Then I went inside, locked all the doors, and waited.
I was starting to doze just after two in the morning when I heard my phone chime and jolted awake. Picking it up, I saw the notification.
Your Backyard Camera has seen something.
Blood pounding in my ears, I tapped on the notification as I got off the sofa and headed to the back side of the house. The screen lit up with a live feed of the back yard’s camera, and I stopped in the middle of the hallway as I realized what I was seeing.
It was a smaller person, probably a woman, running away from the camera toward the backyard fence. Following her was a large man wearing a dark blue or black set of coveralls. He covered the ground quickly with each long stride, and he managed to grab her hair as she started over the fence. I let out a gasp as I watched him ball up his other hand and strike her once, twice, three times in the side of the head before letting her fall bonelessly off the other side of the fence. He clambered over after her, and they both sank into the green grey murk at the edge of the camera’s night vision.
I called 911 immediately, and to their credit, they were out there quickly looking for any sign of my intruders. They could tell I was legitimately freaked out, and they spent nearly an hour combing the area for any sign of where the man and woman could have gone. Meanwhile, I had rewound the video to before the notification and watched it again to see what I’d missed starting from the middle.
Like the first video days earlier, for some time it’s just the boring back yard at night. Then, without warning, a piece of cardboard slips into view from below. The writing is worse this time, but I can still read it when I pause the video just right.
GUN DIDN’T WORK. FIND ANOTHER WAY OR RUN. DO NOT SHOW THEM THIS VIDEO OR WE ARE LOST.
The sign is held up for about ten seconds before a woman comes running into view being followed by the large man chasing her. It is a woman, I can tell that now. She looks familiar even, though I can’t say I’ve ever…
“Ma’am?”
I jumped slightly at the Deputy’s presence. “Shit! You startled me. Um, sorry, what was it you needed?”
He smiled. “Sorry, ma’am. Just…well, you mentioned having a video again. Do you still have that?”
I felt myself hesitate. Why? Why did I want to listen to some strange invader over this guy who seemed nice and willing to help? Yet I already heard myself lying to the deputy, telling him that it didn’t backup the video this time.
He frowned. “Well, that’s a shame. I…it’s not that I think it didn’t happen. I do. But having proof like that could help us figure out what happened out here and why.”
I nodded and then gave a start as a thought occurred to me. “Did you find a sign?”
“A sign? What kind of sign?”
I blushed a little, nervous I was going to give away too much. “Um, well, you know, like the first time they held up a sign to the camera, so I wondered if they had something like that…you know, this time.”
The deputy stared at me a moment before shaking his head. “No, no sign.” Glancing back over the yard, he turned back to give me an awkward smile. “Sorry I’m not more help, but we will keep looking into this, and we’ll be back in touch. And if anything else strange happens, just give us a call, okay?”
Three nights later, my camera alerted me again.
There was no sign this time. Just a small shape running across the back yard near the fence, barely in view. They…she…was looking behind her, but suddenly the large figure appeared out of the murk in front of her and grabbed her by the neck. Her feet were kicking a foot of the ground, and after a few seconds of struggle, she went limp. The large man dropped her to the grass casually before turning toward me…I mean the camera…and walking close enough for me to see their face.
It was the hardened and cruel face of an older man—sloped and jutting forehead over two small eyes and a hook nose that pointed down to a twisted, smirking mouth. A large scar, clearly years old even in the poor clarity of the camera footage, ran like a lightning bolt down from between his eyes to the bottom edge of his cheek.
He stared into the camera, mouthing words that I could not hear but that I still felt in my heart. Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed like I knew what he was saying and that it was meant for me.
Be seeing you.
I had taken a sleeping pill the night before, and so I didn’t see the video until after nine the next morning. I called 911 yet again, and this time it wasn’t the nice deputy from before that came to my door.
It was him.
Twenty years younger and without a scar, but it was that towering man from the videos, staring down at me with what felt like contempt as I gasped for air and pushed the door closed to a crack. He asked to come in and take my statement, but I told him no thank you, I’d changed my mind. Puffing out a long, irritated breath, he finally wished me a nice day and left.
I could hardly breathe or think after I pushed the door shut and locked it. It had been him, right? Much younger and unscarred, but I remembered that face. But he hadn’t seemed to recognize me, unless he was a really good actor.
I thought about calling 911 again, but what could I tell them? I didn’t know what to believe or think, and I was even starting to doubt myself the more I tried ...
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