I was browsing through Goodwill last month when I spotted this old Polaroid camera from the 1980s. The cashier said it had been donated that morning by an estate sale. The previous owner was an elderly photographer who died with no family to claim his belongings.
The camera looked beat up but functional, and for five bucks, I figured why not? I bought some film online and started taking random pictures around my apartment. The first few came out normal - my coffee mug, my cat, the view from my window.
But then I took a picture of my kitchen table, and when the photo developed, it showed the table covered with mail and a laptop that I didn't own. I thought maybe it was double exposure or something wrong with the old film.
The next day, I got home from work to find my roommate had left her laptop on the kitchen table, along with a pile of mail she'd brought up from our mailbox. The exact same arrangement as in the photo.
I started experimenting. I took a picture of my empty driveway and the photo showed a red Honda parked there. Three hours later, my neighbor's friend showed up in a red Honda and parked in that exact spot.
I photographed my blank TV screen, and the image showed a news report about a local fire. That night, the same news story aired at the exact time I'd taken the photo.
This is where it gets scary. Last week, I took a picture of my front door just before leaving for work. When it developed, the photo showed my door standing wide open with police tape across the frame and dark stains on the doormat.
I haven't been home since. I'm staying at my sister's house, too scared to go back and see if the photo comes true. But yesterday, my landlord called asking why I hadn't been answering my door because the police needed to speak with me about my missing roommate.
The photo is sitting on my sister's counter right now, and every time I look at it, those dark stains look more and more like blood.