Hamza KI-Stimmengenerator von Fish Audio

Dad always told people he was just a security guard. But I noticed how the base commanders would nod at him in town, how he'd get calls at weird hours. Sometimes he'd say, "Just routine stuff," but we both knew better than that.

Dad always told people he was just a security guard at the base. Simple job, nothing special. But I noticed how he never brought his uniform home, never talked about coworkers. When friends asked, he'd just smile and say "Night shift's pretty quiet."

Dad always told visitors we had a normal suburban life. But normal families don't have weekly security sweeps or get calls at midnight about "special patients." Mom would just smile and say some medical emergencies can't wait for daylight.

3 ways to escape the shadow figure. One, if you hear footsteps behind you, don't look back or it will get closer. Two, keep walking at a steady pace. Three, when you reach a lit area, only then should you turn around. Remember, panic is your enemy.

I found an old photograph in my father's study yesterday. The edges were worn, showing a group of scientists in white coats, but their faces were deliberately blurred. On the back, written in faded ink: "Project Echo, 1982. Remember to forget."

The old photograph fell from between the pages of my father's journal. It showed three men in white lab coats standing before a steel door marked "Section 7." Dad never mentioned working there, but then again, there were many things he never discussed.

I found Dad's old journal in the basement yesterday. Most entries were normal, until I reached October 1985. The handwriting changed, and the margins were filled with strange symbols. What caught my eye was a recurring phrase: "They're watching through the mirrors."

Dad always said our house was different too. No satellite dishes allowed, no photos from certain angles. When friends asked about the weird rules, I'd just shrug and say "government housing guidelines." Like mom's job, some things were better left unexplained.