Short Horror Stories

The Camera

I've always been interested in lost things, I don't know why, it's just an interest I seem to have.
This story I'm about to tell you for the first time made me think twice about my interests, and what I picked up from the floor.

I was being a bit of a horrible person to my friends, and decided to go for a walk to calm myself. I have never had a good attitude, you see, and my anger issues seem to bring that out a lot more than it should. So I went for a walk, the soft rustling of the trees in the slight wind made me calm. On my path around the block, I noticed something glistening on the grass. I turned off my path to go see what it was and noticed it was a camera. It was the type I only dreamed of having. So,in my excitement, I looked around to see if anyone was watching then I took the camera. I know, I shouldn't have but it sat there. Wanting me to take it.

I messaged my friend saying I was going home and put the camera, as well as my phone, into my bag and left for home. I had a strong feeling someone was watching me, but I shook it off as slight guilt for taking someone's camera.

When I got home it had started to pour down with rain, I had just missed it. So I decided to not take any photos that day just because the rain doesn't go very well in photos. I went to bed, but I still had the feeling of someone watching me. Again, I shook it off as guilt and started to feel I shouldn't have taken the camera.
But I had it in my possession now, so there was no point taking it back. That's what I told myself, anyway.

The next day, the sun was shining brightly. Wanting me to take a photo. I was excited and had already forgotten about the guilt of the night before. Every time I looked at the camera, it seemed to make me even more excited. But something wasn't right about it, I could tell. I kept shaking these feelings off as guilt, but I wished I had taken note sooner. I should've followed my gut.
The sun was still shining brightly so I grabbed a back-pack, my jacket and slipped on my shoes. Then I took the camera and headed out to this spot by the sea I always wanted to take pictures of, but hadn't had the right sort of camera to do it.
Now I did, and I was excited as anything.

When I got there, I sat down in a spot I always loved and started to take photos. I knew I couldn't look at them until later because the camera was slightly damaged and the screen where I could see my photos was broken off, but I didn't care. But again, I had the feeling of being watched. But people come here all the time, I told myself, it's probably some senior or something. Sniggering at my dorkiness. I sigh at the thought. Some people are so immature and don't understand what they do actually affects people. I laughed to myself as I took more pictures, hoping whoever it was heard me ,realizes it's not annoying me and leaves me alone. But the feeling is still there.

I leave to go back home, I've got enough pictures, but I look behind before going. I swear I saw someone for a split second. Dark eyes, watching me.
I thank my imagination for the mini heart-attack and carry on my way back home.
When I get home, I go to my computer to process the photos I had taken.
I can't find my photos, but what i do find makes my heart stop. They're pictures, but not the ones I've taken. It's pictures of me, taking pictures. My mind takes a while to process. Yes, someone took pictures of me. Okay. But how did they get into the camera? And where are my photos? The camera is giving off bad vibes at this point, so I decide to take it back to where I found it. I didn't care how impressive and expensive it was, it was time for it to go.

As I walk to where I found the camera, I notice the same glimmer in the grass as before. As I head towards it, I realize it's a memory stick. When I pick it up, it smells funny and the sticky, dripping, red dye comes off on my hands.
I forget about what I'm there for and head home, with both the camera and the memory stick. I plug the memory stick in and flick through the other photos. They're pictures of other people, taking pictures with the camera and having fun and laughing. The next photos are worse, they have people tied up. They're the same people who were having fun and laughing, now scared. Make-up running, hair a mess.
The next photos are of the same people, but they're hardly recognizable. I couldn't describe it without making anyone sick, myself included, so I'll save myself and yourself that experience. But they were nasty, nastier than anything I have ever been looking at. Nothing will never compare to the photos in this story, nothing.