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The original was posted on /r/ghoststories by /u/FriedChickenMan6908 on 2025-05-30 17:04:53+00:00.

When my grandma died, I inherited her old farmhouse. It’s a beat-up place, way out in the middle of nowhere. Creepy quiet. My parents moved us out when I was like five. They never really said why, and honestly I barely remembered anything about it.

So I went back there alone to start cleaning it up. First night, I swear I heard footsteps above me. In the attic.

I checked. Nothing there.

Second night, I heard whispering. Like actual whispering. It stopped the second I opened the attic door.

Third night, I found this old photo tucked behind a dresser. It was my family—me, Mom, Dad. And some other person standing behind us. Pale face. Weird smile.

We don’t have a fourth family member.

I called my mom, kinda laughing at first, but when I told her about the photo she just went totally silent. Then she said, real quiet, “we never locked the attic. we just never opened it.”

Then the call dropped

I heard the footsteps again.