This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/CompaEdgar on 2025-07-11 05:40:05+00:00.

I was cleaning out my phone last week, deleting junk to make room for a system update. You know how it is—random memes, screenshots from months ago, blurry photos you forgot to delete. I got to this burst photo set I took during a solo hike back in May. I almost skipped past it, but something caught my eye.

The first image looked totally normal. I was standing on a rock outcrop, holding up a peace sign with the woods stretching behind me. It was one of those automatic burst shots where the camera takes a bunch of photos in a row to catch movement. I figured I’d pick the best frame and delete the rest.

The second photo was… off. My pose hadn’t changed, but there was a weird blur in the trees. At first I thought it was just motion blur or a trick of the light.

But in the third frame, it wasn’t a blur anymore. It looked like a face—pale and long, barely visible behind a tree about thirty feet back. The eyes were open, too wide, and the mouth was slightly parted like it was mid-breath. I stared at it for a while, thinking maybe I was just seeing a pattern in the bark or a trick of shadow.

In the fourth and fifth images, it was closer. Still partially behind trees, but definitely there. You could see the outline of shoulders now. The head tilted slightly, like it was watching me, or listening.

By the seventh photo, it was maybe ten feet behind me. And I swear I could see fingernails peeking from around the edge of a tree, like it was just barely holding back from stepping out.

The final shot in the burst—the eighth photo—made my stomach drop. The figure was directly behind me, less than a foot away. I didn’t feel anything when I took the photo. No footsteps, no breathing, no sense that someone was behind me. But in the picture, it was there, clear as day. The same pale face, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth now shut completely.

I started freaking out. I scrolled back and forth through the burst set, thinking maybe it was an app glitch, maybe some AI thing had accidentally edited it, or maybe I had downloaded something cursed. But I checked the metadata out of curiosity.

Each photo was timestamped six minutes apart. But I only remember taking one photo. One burst. One click.

My first thought was that maybe the camera bugged and spaced them out. My second thought was that someone was messing with me.

I showed the photos to my roommate. At first, he laughed it off, said it was probably some built-in photo effect or some weird double exposure trick. I asked him to try taking a test burst on his phone to see if we could replicate the timing glitch.

So we went outside. He took a few bursts of me standing in our driveway, joking the whole time. Ten minutes later, we looked through his gallery.

The last frame of the final burst made him stop laughing immediately.

That same pale face.

Behind him.

Closer this time.

We left the house that night. Booked a hotel. We told the landlord there was a break-in, didn’t give details. I wanted to throw my phone in the trash, but something told me that wouldn’t help.

The real reason I’m writing this now is because it’s getting worse. My phone started saving photos I didn’t take. Random ones. Empty rooms. My closet. My bed while I sleep. Sometimes the images are pitch black, sometimes there’s a faint white smudge in the corner.

And in the last one I found—taken at 3:12 a.m. last night—I’m asleep in bed.

But I’m not alone.

There’s a face in the mirror across from me.

Smiling.

And this time, I can see its teeth.