NSFWI don’t know where else to post this. I’ve already told two of my friends, and both of them think I’m either making it up or losing my mind.
This happened three nights ago.
I live alone in a small two-story house. Nothing fancy. Just two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. I work from home, so I rarely go out unless I need groceries.
A few months ago, someone tried opening my front door at around 2 AM. Nothing happened, but it scared me enough to install a security camera facing the porch.
The camera sends a notification to my phone whenever it detects movement.
Usually, it’s just cats.
But on Tuesday night, at exactly 2:13 AM, my phone vibrated.
“Person detected at Front Door.”
I was lying in bed watching YouTube.
I opened the notification.
There was a man standing on my porch.
At first, I thought it was a delivery driver who had the wrong address.
Then he looked directly into the camera.
It was me.
Same face. Same haircut. Same gray shirt I was wearing.
He was even holding my car keys.
I sat up so quickly that I almost dropped my phone.
I watched as the man reached into his pocket, pulled out a key, and unlocked my front door.
I heard the lock click downstairs.
Not through the camera.
From inside my house.
I froze.
The video showed him slowly opening the door and stepping inside.
Then the camera feed went black.
I immediately called the police.
While I was whispering my address to the dispatcher, I heard footsteps coming from the living room.
Slow footsteps.
Then the sound of someone walking up the stairs.
I locked my bedroom door.
The footsteps stopped outside.
For about thirty seconds, there was complete silence.
Then someone knocked.
Three times.
“Hey,” a voice said.
My voice.
“Open the door.”
I couldn’t breathe.
The dispatcher was still talking, asking if I could hear the intruder.
I whispered yes.
Then the voice outside my bedroom spoke again.
“Listen to me carefully.”
It sounded terrified.
“Whatever you do, don’t let the police inside.”
I didn’t answer.
He started knocking harder.
“PLEASE. You don’t understand. They’re not coming to help you.”
That’s when I heard sirens approaching.
The knocking stopped.
Footsteps rushed down the stairs.
Then my front door slammed.
When the police arrived, they searched the entire house.
Nobody was there.
They checked the security footage.
I showed them the recording of the man who looked exactly like me.
One officer watched it three times.
Then he asked me something strange.
“Sir, is there anyone else who has access to this camera?”
I told him no.
He turned the screen toward me.
The footage was different.
It showed my front porch, completely empty.
At 2:13 AM, the door opened.
But nobody was standing outside.
The door just opened by itself.
Then, from somewhere inside the house, a man screamed.
The recording ended.
The officers suggested I stay somewhere else for the night.
I went to a hotel.
I barely slept.
The next morning, I checked my phone again.
There was a new notification from my security camera.
“Person detected at Front Door — 3:47 AM.”
I opened it.
Two police officers were standing on my porch.
The same two officers who had searched my house.
They weren’t knocking.
They were standing completely still, staring into the camera.
Then one of them smiled.
Not a normal smile.
His mouth stretched wider than it should have.
The other officer slowly raised his hand and pointed directly at the camera.
And then I heard my own voice coming from somewhere behind them.
“He’s not home.”
Both officers turned toward the voice.
The video ended.
I called the police station.
I gave them the names of the officers who had responded the previous night.
The woman on the phone went quiet.
Then she asked me to repeat the names.
I did.
She put me on hold.
When she came back, she told me that one of those officers had retired six years ago.
The other had died in a car accident last November.
I haven’t gone back to my house.
I’m still staying at the hotel.
But about twenty minutes ago, I received another security camera notification.
“Person detected at Front Door.”
I opened it.
It wasn’t my house.
It was the hallway outside my hotel room.
I don’t have a camera there.
The video showed my door.
Room 407.
A man was standing outside.
It was me again.
Except this time, he wasn’t wearing my gray shirt.
He was wearing the exact same clothes I’m wearing right now.
He leaned toward the camera and whispered:
“I told you not to let them inside.”
Then he looked over his shoulder.
His face went pale.
He started banging on my hotel room door.
I heard the banging.
I could see the door shaking.
But when I looked through the peephole, the hallway was empty.
The banging continued for another minute.
Then it stopped.
I thought it was over.
Until my phone vibrated one last time.
A new video.
This one showed the inside of my hotel room.
From the ceiling corner, looking down at the bed.
I was sitting on it, holding my phone.
Watching the recording.
And standing directly behind me was one of the police officers.
Smiling.
I haven’t turned around yet.
Because in the video, every time I move, he moves closer.
This happened three nights ago.
I live alone in a small two-story house. Nothing fancy. Just two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. I work from home, so I rarely go out unless I need groceries.
A few months ago, someone tried opening my front door at around 2 AM. Nothing happened, but it scared me enough to install a security camera facing the porch.
The camera sends a notification to my phone whenever it detects movement.
Usually, it’s just cats.
But on Tuesday night, at exactly 2:13 AM, my phone vibrated.
“Person detected at Front Door.”
I was lying in bed watching YouTube.
I opened the notification.
There was a man standing on my porch.
At first, I thought it was a delivery driver who had the wrong address.
Then he looked directly into the camera.
It was me.
Same face. Same haircut. Same gray shirt I was wearing.
He was even holding my car keys.
I sat up so quickly that I almost dropped my phone.
I watched as the man reached into his pocket, pulled out a key, and unlocked my front door.
I heard the lock click downstairs.
Not through the camera.
From inside my house.
I froze.
The video showed him slowly opening the door and stepping inside.
Then the camera feed went black.
I immediately called the police.
While I was whispering my address to the dispatcher, I heard footsteps coming from the living room.
Slow footsteps.
Then the sound of someone walking up the stairs.
I locked my bedroom door.
The footsteps stopped outside.
For about thirty seconds, there was complete silence.
Then someone knocked.
Three times.
“Hey,” a voice said.
My voice.
“Open the door.”
I couldn’t breathe.
The dispatcher was still talking, asking if I could hear the intruder.
I whispered yes.
Then the voice outside my bedroom spoke again.
“Listen to me carefully.”
It sounded terrified.
“Whatever you do, don’t let the police inside.”
I didn’t answer.
He started knocking harder.
“PLEASE. You don’t understand. They’re not coming to help you.”
That’s when I heard sirens approaching.
The knocking stopped.
Footsteps rushed down the stairs.
Then my front door slammed.
When the police arrived, they searched the entire house.
Nobody was there.
They checked the security footage.
I showed them the recording of the man who looked exactly like me.
One officer watched it three times.
Then he asked me something strange.
“Sir, is there anyone else who has access to this camera?”
I told him no.
He turned the screen toward me.
The footage was different.
It showed my front porch, completely empty.
At 2:13 AM, the door opened.
But nobody was standing outside.
The door just opened by itself.
Then, from somewhere inside the house, a man screamed.
The recording ended.
The officers suggested I stay somewhere else for the night.
I went to a hotel.
I barely slept.
The next morning, I checked my phone again.
There was a new notification from my security camera.
“Person detected at Front Door — 3:47 AM.”
I opened it.
Two police officers were standing on my porch.
The same two officers who had searched my house.
They weren’t knocking.
They were standing completely still, staring into the camera.
Then one of them smiled.
Not a normal smile.
His mouth stretched wider than it should have.
The other officer slowly raised his hand and pointed directly at the camera.
And then I heard my own voice coming from somewhere behind them.
“He’s not home.”
Both officers turned toward the voice.
The video ended.
I called the police station.
I gave them the names of the officers who had responded the previous night.
The woman on the phone went quiet.
Then she asked me to repeat the names.
I did.
She put me on hold.
When she came back, she told me that one of those officers had retired six years ago.
The other had died in a car accident last November.
I haven’t gone back to my house.
I’m still staying at the hotel.
But about twenty minutes ago, I received another security camera notification.
“Person detected at Front Door.”
I opened it.
It wasn’t my house.
It was the hallway outside my hotel room.
I don’t have a camera there.
The video showed my door.
Room 407.
A man was standing outside.
It was me again.
Except this time, he wasn’t wearing my gray shirt.
He was wearing the exact same clothes I’m wearing right now.
He leaned toward the camera and whispered:
“I told you not to let them inside.”
Then he looked over his shoulder.
His face went pale.
He started banging on my hotel room door.
I heard the banging.
I could see the door shaking.
But when I looked through the peephole, the hallway was empty.
The banging continued for another minute.
Then it stopped.
I thought it was over.
Until my phone vibrated one last time.
A new video.
This one showed the inside of my hotel room.
From the ceiling corner, looking down at the bed.
I was sitting on it, holding my phone.
Watching the recording.
And standing directly behind me was one of the police officers.
Smiling.
I haven’t turned around yet.
Because in the video, every time I move, he moves closer.