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I found the phone in the "untested" bin of a dusty thrift store on the edge of town—a cracked iPhone 6s with a faded sticker of a sunflower on the back. For five dollars, I figured if I couldn't fix it, I’d at least have some spare parts.

The girl gasped, and the running started again. The footage became a blur of dark branches and strobe-like flashes of light. Then, suddenly, the girl tripped. The camera tumbled through the air, landing face-up in the dirt. IMG_0430.MOV

The frame remained still for the final ten seconds. In the distance, the girl’s footsteps stopped abruptly. There was no scream. Just a soft, wet click-click-click sound that grew louder as it approached the lens. A pale, needle-like finger entered the frame, reaching down toward the phone. The video cut to black. I found the phone in the "untested" bin

After an hour of cleaning the charging port and a frantic jump-start of the battery, the screen flickered to life. There was no passcode. The previous owner hadn't wiped it; the gallery was empty, save for a single file in the "Recents" folder. The footage became a blur of dark branches