The Photos at Elm Creek

My family has lived in the old house on Elm Creek for generations. My cousin Lena lives there now with her husband and their two young boys. She told me she never feels alone in that house, even when everyone else is gone.

Lena says sometimes at night, she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder. Cabinet doors open by themselves. Upstairs, you can sometimes hear the soft sound of humming when no one is around.

Since the children arrived, the strange happenings have become more frequent. Their youngest once described seeing a smiling face peeking from behind the kitchen curtain. I visit them often, and I always bring my camera. I take pictures of the children playing in the yard or reading in the living room.

In every single photo, from the moment I started, dozens of small, glowing circles appear. They float around the children’s heads or drift in the corners of the room. In my normal life, my photos are always clear. But in that house, the light spots are always there. I look closely at each one, and inside every circle, I can make out a tiny, distinct shape.