When Ellie Monroe, a quiet librarian from Allentown, Pennsylvania, stepped onto her porch one foggy October evening, she never expected her life to unravel like a vintage horror film.

There it was — a dusty VHS tape, sitting on her welcome mat, labeled only with two chilling words: “PLAY ME.” No envelope. No delivery notice. Just the tape.

Out of curiosity (and a bit of unease), Ellie dug her old VCR out of the attic. She never thought it would actually work. But it did. The screen flickered to life, showing footage from her eighth birthday party — balloons, cake, her parents, everything… except this version had been filmed from a distance. In the corner of the frame stood a figure in a gray hoodie, completely still, staring directly into the camera. No one remembered anyone filming that day.

Then came more tapes. One appeared each morning. Her high school graduation. Her first kiss. Her mother’s funeral. All real. All filmed by someone — or something — that shouldn’t have been there.

She turned to the police. Most brushed it off, but one retired detective, Cal Rainer, took interest. He noticed something that made Ellie’s blood run cold: the hooded figure never aged. Over 20 years of footage, the same clothes. Same posture. Same empty stare.

Then, the final tape arrived.

It showed Ellie sleeping… just hours earlier.

Someone had been in her home.

Panicked, she opened the front door — only to find a fresh tape waiting on the mat, still warm.

What’s on that final tape? Ellie refuses to say. She’s since disappeared from social media. Some neighbors say they see her standing at the window now, watching the street. Others claim they’ve seen the hooded figure— watching them.

One thing’s for sure:
Don’t play tapes that aren’t yours.