The dark tale, a haunting feat,
Unfolds within a quiet street.
A camera placed to watch the night,
To guard the home till morning light.
A couple new, with dreams and peace,
Had bought this house for sweet release.
But soon strange noises filled the air,
Like dragging feet upon the stair.
They thought it rats, or pipes that moaned,
Till one night something clearly groaned.
A sound so close it chilled their skin,
Like breath that whispered from within.
The man, now pale, set up a cam,
To catch whatever thing there am.
He aimed it straight toward the hall,
Then left it rolling, watched it all.
Hours passed — all calm, all still,
Till 3 A.M., that cursed chill.
The shadows moved, but not from breeze,
A shape crawled forth on hands and knees.
It crept along the wooden floor,
Then paused beside the bedroom door.
Its limbs were bent, its head hung low,
Its eyes — twin coals — began to glow.
The footage showed it all too clear,
No tricks, no glitches, nothing near.
The couple fled by break of dawn,
And when they came back — it was gone.
They shared the clip, the world would see,
A creeping thing — unnaturally.
No one could say just what it meant,
But those who watched felt malevolent.
Some say it’s cursed to view that tape,
A restless soul that seeks escape.
Others claim it’s merely fraud…
But those who filmed it? Gone. By God.