This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Cute-Tackle2310 on 2024-11-18 21:17:22+00:00.
I work as a digital archivist for the state historical society, mostly handling old recordings, photographs, and documents. Last month, we received a donation of deteriorating Super 8 films and audio reels from a property sale in rural Wisconsin. The materials dated back to 1978-1979 and belonged to the Morrison family, who had vanished without a trace that winter.
The first few reels were mundane - birthday parties, Christmas morning, kids playing in the yard. But as I worked through chronologically cataloging them, I began noticing subtle irregularities. In the background of a summer barbecue footage, a tall figure stood motionless at the tree line, too distant to make out clearly. The children occasionally glanced toward it but the adults seemed oblivious.
The audio reels were mostly silent except for static, until I reached one labeled "Emily's Piano Recital - Sept 13." Instead of music, it contained what sounded like someone breathing heavily, occasionally interrupted by a dry clicking sound. The breathing continued for 47 minutes.
By October, the camera movements in the videos became erratic, often lingering too long on empty doorways or corners of rooms. The family members looked increasingly haggard, with dark circles under their eyes. Seven-year-old Emily was recorded sitting alone at the kitchen table at 3 AM, carrying on a cheerful conversation with someone off-camera, though motion tracking software confirmed no one else was present in the room.
The final tape was labeled "Thanksgiving." It opened on an empty dining room, table set for dinner but covered in dust. The camera slowly panned across family photos on the wall - recent ones showed the Morrisons' smiles growing forced, strained. In the last photo, their eyes were completely black.
The footage continued through the house, everything untouched as if the family had simply vanished mid-routine. Emily's bed was still made, her stuffed animals arranged neatly. The camera moved to her closet, where childish crayon drawings covered the back wall. They showed five stick figures holding hands with a much taller, spindly black figure. The same scene, drawn over and over, dozens of times.
The video ended in the basement. A child's voice, likely Emily's, whispered "It's time to go now. They're waiting for us." The camera tilted up toward the ceiling, revealing hundreds of scratch marks in the wooden beams. The frame distorted, flickered, and went black.
Police reports indicate the Morrison family - parents and three children - disappeared over Thanksgiving weekend 1979. Their car was in the garage. No bodies were ever found. The house remained untouched for decades until the recent sale.
While digitizing the final reel, I noticed something in the metadata. The timestamp showed the recording was made three weeks after the family's disappearance.
I submitted my findings to the cold case department. Yesterday, they informed me they're reopening the investigation. They're particularly interested in one detail - in the background of every single tape, if you enhance the audio enough, you can faintly hear children singing "Ring Around the Rosie." The same children, for over 40 years.
The historical society asked me to continue processing similar donations from that era and region. I've received three more collections this week. All show the same tall figure in the tree line. All contain footage dated after the families vanished.
I've started seeing it too, standing at the edge of the parking lot when I leave work late. I try to convince myself it's just a trick of the light. But last night, I heard children singing outside my window.
I'm recording this now as evidence. If something happens to me, you'll know wh-
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