The Seventh Figure in the Photograph

I opened every wall in my house searching for the source of that scratching. Nothing.

But the sounds kept getting louder, more frantic. Then I noticed something terrifying in the

photograph. Behind my grandfather and those scratched out faces, there was a seventh

figure I hadn't seen before. Blurred, like it moved right as the camera clicked.

I took the photo to my grandmother. The moment she saw it, her face went white.

She told me those were my grandfather's friends from college. They'd gone camping in 1967 and found

something in the woods. A box buried under a tree. They opened it.

She started crying and said they made a pact never to speak about what they released.