Campsite Tales

A boy across the street

I am a third-year university student at the University of Michigan. I work a part-time job at a nearby importing firm. My daily routine used to be simple: get up, attend classes, go to my part-time job, and get home by 10 at night. That was until I moved.

I moved to a small apartment complex almost six miles away from my university. Why, you ask? Because I’m broke. I’m not paid enough to afford a decent apartment near campus. I can barely cover my rent and food with my salary. But now, just two months before graduating, I’m moving again. Why? Because of what happened last month—a series of events that have left me packing my belongings and swearing never to look back at this place again.

“Hey Josh, want to grab some lunch after the lecture?” my friend David asked, typing away on his laptop.

I nodded, giving a quick “yes.” When I glanced up from my screen, I caught him staring at me. Our eyes met, and he immediately looked away. But for some reason, a chill ran down my spine. I tried to shake it off and focus on my work, but my eyes kept drifting back to him, almost as if something—or someone—was forcing me to look.

Each time I glanced, he wasn’t doing anything unusual—just scribbling in his notebook. But the speed at which he was writing was unnerving. I had never seen anyone write that fast. I forced the thoughts to the back of my mind and returned to my work.

Later, David walked with me to the bus stop.

“So, you’re moving in today?” he asked, leaning against the pole and tucking his hands into his sweater. The cold was brutal.

“Yeah, I’ve already moved my stuff. I can finally settle in tonight,” I replied, watching the bus approach.

“See you later, then,” I said, hopping on the bus and waving goodbye.

I found an empty seat easily—it wasn’t a busy day, likely because of the snowstorm. If the snow kept up, we might even get a holiday tomorrow. I turned to glance at the front of the bus, and that’s when I saw him.

A mop of brown hair caught my attention. Tyler.

What a coincidence. I hadn’t even noticed him get on the bus. When did he board? Confused, I watched him for a moment. My confusion turned to unease as I observed him. Tyler was staring intently out the window, scanning every alleyway the bus passed as if searching for something—or someone.

Every so often, he’d glance at the sky, his expression tense, almost expectant. It was strange, unnerving even. After a few minutes of watching him, I decided to approach. Moving slowly to avoid startling him, I said warmly, “Excuse me.”

His head snapped toward me, his eyes clouded with worry.

I pointed to the seat beside him. “Can I sit here?”

He nodded silently.

“I’m Josh, by the way. We’re in the same course—I don’t know if you know me,” I said with a smile.

To my relief, he smiled back. “Yes, I know you,” he replied, sneaking another glance out the window.

We began to talk. Surprisingly, the 30-minute ride flew by. But as the bus neared my stop, I noticed Tyler standing up too. My stomach churned. We were getting off at the same stop.

We both chuckled awkwardly when we started walking in the same direction.

He walked slightly ahead of me, and I felt an odd sense of relief. I didn’t want him to know where I lived, so I decided to turn toward a different building if it came to that.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the branch in my path. I tripped, landing face-first on the icy concrete.

Before I could react, I heard Tyler rushing toward me. Embarrassed, I yelled, “It’s okay! I’m fine!”

But when I felt warm liquid dripping down my chin, I knew I wasn’t fine.

The next thing I knew, I was on a stretcher, being wheeled into a hospital. The doctor informed me I had a mild concussion and needed monitoring for 24 hours.

Not wanting to stay in the hospital, I was discharged. That’s when Tyler spoke up.

“You can stay with me for a day,” he offered.

I hadn’t realized he’d been with me the whole time. Guilt washed over me for thinking he was odd. “I’m sorry for putting you through so much trouble,” I said.

He just smiled.

“Here, have some tea and your medicines,” Tyler said, placing a tray on the bedside table.

I’d been in and out of consciousness for hours, but now that I was fully awake, I had time to look around his room.

It was normal—too normal. The only peculiar things were the antiques scattered across the room and a drawer filled with identical journals. I decided not to dwell on it, though. My head was pounding.

“I have a thing for collecting antiques,” he said, sipping his tea. His voice snapped me out of my trance.

We made small talk before he left for work. I decided to sleep again after taking my medications.

When I woke up, Tyler still wasn’t home. Curiosity got the better of me. I pulled the bedroom curtains apart in one swift motion.

My heart dropped.

Straight across from his window was my apartment.

Panic set in. I quickly grabbed my shirt, scribbled a note, and fled the apartment.

In the months after that, I never ran into Tyler—not often, at least. If I saw him on the road, I would either stay behind and let him pass or walk fast to avoid him. I even changed my bus timings to ensure we wouldn’t cross paths. At the university, our interactions were limited to a nod of acknowledgment, nothing more. But something had shifted in me. Despite my efforts to avoid him, my eyes were always searching for him—in the bus, the library, the canteen, and even during lectures.

The more I observed him, the more I realized something unsettling. Tyler loved writing. He was always scribbling, as though he was transcribing every single word the professor uttered. But it wasn’t just that—his writing speed was unnatural. I first noticed it during a lecture where the professor spoke painfully slow, yet Tyler’s pen moved like a blur across the page. It was eerie, to say the least.

Curiosity got the better of me. Despite how normal he seemed on the surface, there was something about Tyler that didn’t sit right with me. Something I couldn’t shake.

After coming home from work, I developed a strange habit. I would sit at my table, turn off all the lights in my room, and watch Tyler’s apartment. Every night for thirty minutes, I would just observe. I know how creepy that sounds, but something about him intrigued me—something I couldn’t explain.

One night, I watched him sit at the very table where he’d placed my medicine that day. He stared at it for an entire hour, motionless. Another time, I saw him rip apart a book, page by page, chewing and swallowing every single one. By the end, only the leather cover remained. He calmly drank a glass of water, turned off the lights, and went to sleep.

I didn’t know what to make of it. Was he just eccentric, or was there something more sinister going on? The questions plagued me, but I never dared to confront him.

Graduation was just two months away, and the stress of assignments, research papers, and my part-time job had taken its toll. I hadn’t watched Tyler’s apartment in weeks. But that night… that night changed everything.

I had taken the day off from work to catch up on my studies. Around 8:00 PM, I decided to take a break and, out of habit, turned off the lights and dragged my chair to the window. His apartment lights were on, but Tyler was nowhere to be seen. I waited for a few minutes, scanning the room for any sign of him.

That’s when I noticed them—four pipes running down his window. My heart skipped a beat. Were they always there? I leaned closer, trying to get a better look. The pipes were moving. No, not moving—twitching. Shrinking and expanding, like something alive.

I froze, unable to tear my eyes away. The pipes—or whatever they were—began retracting into the window. As they slithered into the light, I saw them clearly for the first time. They weren’t pipes. They were limbs—human limbs.

My stomach churned. My hands trembled as I dialed 911. “Someone broke into the apartment,” I stammered, giving them Tyler’s address before hanging up.

Fifteen minutes later, a police car arrived. I watched as three officers entered the building. Moments later, I saw their shadows in the window. They were checking the locks on the bedroom window when Tyler appeared.

Our eyes met.

Even in the dark, I knew he could see me. He smirked—a slow, devilish smirk that sent shivers down my spine. But it wasn’t the smirk that terrified me. It was him. The person standing there wasn’t Tyler. He wore Tyler’s clothes, but it wasn’t him. I knew it. I had been watching him for months—I knew.

I backed away from the window, shut my bedroom door, and collapsed onto my bed. I didn’t sleep that night.

The next day, I tried asking around about Tyler. My friend David remembered him, but the Tyler he described didn’t match the person I knew. Everyone’s descriptions were the same—a completely different person.

Who was the Tyler I had been watching? Or, more terrifyingly, what was he?

I decided to leave. I couldn’t stay in that apartment anymore, not with him—or whatever he was—just across the street. Every night, I felt his eyes on me. Even with the lights off, I knew he was watching.

The final straw came when I saw him standing at his window, grinning. That smirk haunted me. It was as if he could see right through the darkness, right into my soul.

On the day I moved out, I saw Tyler—or what looked like him—throwing things into the dumpster behind the building. Books, furniture, antiques. I waited until he left before sneaking over. Among the discarded items, I found a journal.

It was an ordinary-looking notebook with a brown leather cover. I stuffed it into my bag and hurried to the bus stop, constantly checking over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed.

Once on the bus, I opened the journal. My hands trembled as I flipped through the pages. They were filled with red scribbles—nonsensical lines and symbols. But as I stared, the symbols began to make sense and for the entire journey I watched every passing alleyway for someone- something. Words scrawled over and over again in frantic, looping letters read.

“Don’t stop looking. Keep watching.”

- This is not my story the base story if from the Magnus Archives on Spotify you should check it out,  I took that episode as a base for this story.