The camcorder wasn’t supposed to work. It was old—cracked screen, rusted battery door, the kind of thing that looked like it belonged in a thrift shop or buried under time itself.

You and Tod found it behind the old gas station, half-buried in the mud after the rain.

He held it up, brushing off the dirt. “Bet this thing belonged to some wannabe filmmaker,” he said, grinning.

You shrugged, curiosity winning over reason. “Only one way to find out.”

When he pressed play, the screen flickered—static, then shapes. Your town appeared. Same streets. Same buildings. Same gas station. But no people.

Not a single car moving, not a voice, not a sound. Just the faint hiss of static underneath everything, like the world had been muted.

“Creepy,” Tod muttered, leaning closer. “It’s like… everyone just vanished.”

You shivered. “Maybe it’s old footage.”

He frowned. “No, look.” The sign on the grocery store in the background read Half-Off Today Only! You’d seen that sign this morning.

“Tod… that’s from today.”

That night, you both sat on your living room floor, the camcorder between you, rewinding the tape.

It always started the same—your town, empty, motionless. But when you played it again around midnight, the screen flickered harder than usual.

And this time, there was movement.

Two figures walking down Main Street.

Tod’s hand froze on the camcorder. “Wait.”

You leaned closer. The grainy shapes became clearer with each second until your stomach dropped.

It was you. And him.

Wandering through the silent town, holding hands, glancing over your shoulders like you knew something was following you.

“What the hell…” you whispered. “We didn’t—”

The footage cut off. The tape hissed. Then static filled the screen again—only this time, it whispered.

Not words, but the faint sound of breathing.

“Okay,” Tod said finally, rubbing his face. “Either this thing’s cursed or we’re losing it.”

You looked at him. “You think it’s showing the future?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “Or another version of it.”

The air felt heavier than before, charged with something unseen. Tod reached for the power button, but the camera turned itself on.

The feed blinked, showing your room. Right now.

Except— It wasn’t moving in real time.

You and Tod were on the screen, sleeping on the couch, the same blanket wrapped around you both.

“Wait, what the hell—” Tod reached for the camcorder again, but the image on-screen twitched.

The sleeping version of you stirred. Then your on-screen self opened their eyes—directly at the lens.

Your heart nearly stopped. “Tod…”

He was frozen, wide-eyed, unable to look away as the version of you on the tape began to smile.

Not your smile. Something wrong. Something that didn’t belong to you.

The fake-you reached out, closer, pressing a hand against the inside of the screen as if touching glass. Static bled through the image, warping the sound.

And then you heard your own voice whisper through the speaker— “Don’t let it record again.”

The camcorder shut off on its own.

You and Tod sat there, hearts racing, the silence between you stretching thin.

Finally, he said, voice low: “…You know we’re going back tomorrow, right?”

You glared. “Tod—”

“We need to know what it is.” His smirk was shaky but real. “Besides, if some evil videotape wants to mess with us, it picked the wrong couple.”

You sighed, half terrified, half ready to follow him anywhere. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah,” he said, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But you love me anyway.”