I saw someone in my house on my pet cam while I was out tonight

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/ezekiel_h_graves on 2024-11-15 10:01:16+00:00.

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I live alone with my dog, Max. He’s my world—always has been. He’s been my constant through everything: bad breakups, endless nights of anxiety, the crushing loneliness of a city where people don’t make eye contact. He’s the reason I get out of bed most days. I installed a dog cam for him a few months back, mostly to check in while I’m out. He doesn’t love being alone, and the camera’s mic lets me talk to him if he gets anxious.

Tonight, I had to leave for a couple of hours, nothing unusual. I always leave the TV on for Max—usually some nature channel because it calms him. But just before I left, the news caught my attention.

The anchor’s voice was serious. She was talking about disappearances—single men and their dogs, all gone without a trace. They think it’s a copycat killer mimicking the "Burned Man," some psychopath from the 70s. He used to lure men into his traps before killing them and burning their bodies. Vigilantes eventually got him, burned him alive in some twisted form of justice. Supposedly, he laughed as he burned.

I don’t believe in ghosts or anything like that, but hearing the story unsettled me. I glanced at Max lying on the couch, wagging his tail lazily, oblivious. I switched the channel to something light—a cheerful cooking show—and knelt to scratch behind his ears.

“You’ll be fine, buddy. Daddy will be home soon,” I said.

I wish I hadn’t said that.

I wasn’t even halfway through the night before I checked the dog cam. I always check. It’s a bad habit—I just hate leaving Max alone too long. At first, everything seemed normal. He was lying on the couch, his tail twitching as he watched the TV.

Then he started pacing.

He kept looking toward the corner of the room, where the shadows always seemed a little too dark. His ears were flat, his tail tucked low. I’ve never seen him act like that before. He barked—a deep, frantic bark I didn’t recognize.

I tapped the mic. “Max? It’s okay, buddy. What’s wrong?”

He froze, his eyes darting toward the camera, then back to the corner. And then, out of nowhere, the barking stopped. He whimpered and backed into the farthest corner of the room.

I stared at the screen, feeling my stomach twist. Something moved in the shadows. It was faint at first—just a flicker—but then it stepped into the light.

It wasn’t human—or if it was, it shouldn’t be alive. It was tall and impossibly thin, its pale, cracked skin glowing faintly, like embers buried beneath ash. Its face was stretched, hollow-eyed, with a smile that didn’t belong on any living thing. It tilted its head as if studying Max. He pressed himself against the wall, trembling.

Then the thing turned to the camera.

It stepped closer, filling the frame. Its eyes—if you can call them that—were black pits, staring straight at me through the screen. Its mouth stretched into an even wider grin, jagged teeth visible now. And then it spoke.

Through the camera mic.

“Come home soon, Daddy. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

I don’t even remember the drive home. I think I was running on autopilot, pure adrenaline. By the time I unlocked the front door, I was already calling for Max.

The house was eerily quiet. The TV was still on, but the sound seemed muffled, distant. Max was lying under the coffee table, shaking. His ears were pinned back, his eyes fixed on the hallway. I crouched down and tried to coax him out, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Max, come on, it’s okay,” I whispered, but even my voice sounded hollow.

Then I smelled it.

Smoke.

It was faint at first, like the lingering scent of a burned-out candle. But it got stronger as I stood up and followed Max’s gaze toward the hallway. My heart was pounding as I grabbed a flashlight and walked toward the laundry room.

The smell hit me hard as I stepped inside. The air was thick, suffocating, and then I saw the wall.

BOO.

The word was smeared across the wall in uneven letters, written in something black and gritty, like ash. My hand shook as I shined the flashlight closer. The texture was rough, almost sticky, and the smell of burning intensified.

I heard a dragging sound behind me. My breath caught as I turned the flashlight toward the noise, but nothing was there. The hallway was empty.

Edit: 1:37 a.m.

I’ve locked myself in my bedroom with Max. He’s lying on the bed, but he won’t stop staring at the door. I keep hearing footsteps in the hallway. They’re slow, deliberate. Every now and then, the handle rattles, like someone’s trying to turn it.

I called the police, but they said it would take time for someone to get here. I don’t think I have time.

Edit: 2:13 a.m.

The smoke is getting worse. It’s not in the room yet, but I can smell it, like something burning just outside the door.

Max is gone. I don’t know how—he was right here. The door didn’t open. The window’s locked. He’s just… gone.

The footsteps are back, heavier now.

Edit: 2:27 a.m.

I’m watching the dog cam footage. It doesn’t make sense. The figure is there again, standing in the living room, but it’s looking straight at the camera. At me.

It smiled.

Then it said, “You’re too late, Daddy.”

The screen went black.

Edit: 2:42 a.m.

The footsteps are outside my door. The handle just turned.

I think this is it.

If anyone finds this, please…

He’s still out there.

And he’s waiting for you—if you’re a single man living alone with your dog.