I never used to be afraid of museums. Until I saw myself in one. My friend Jake and I went to a small museum downtown because it was raining and we had nothing else to do. The place was almost empty. We walked through a few rooms, joking about the old paintings. Then Jake stopped. “Look at this.” It was a painting of a family standing outside a house. A mother. A father. A little girl. And a boy. The boy looked exactly like me. Same hair. Same face. Even the small mark above my eyebrow. I laughed. “It’s just a coincidence.” Then I noticed the date. 1947. We kept walking. A few minutes later, we heard a step behind us. Then another. Step. Step. We turned around. Nobody was there. Jake laughed and said it was probably another visitor. Then his phone vibrated. He looked at it. His face went pale. “What?” He showed me the screen. It was a photo of us standing in the museum. But we hadn’t taken it. Someone had taken the picture from behind us. And standing between us was a tall, extremely thin man. His arms hung almost to his knees. I turned around. Nothing. We decided to leave. Jake walked ahead. I followed him into the next room. He was gone. I called him. His phone rang somewhere inside the museum. I followed the sound. It led me back to the painting. Jake was standing in front of it. I grabbed his shoulder. He turned around. “Why are you here?” I stared at him. “You disappeared.” He looked confused. “I’ve been standing here the whole time.” Then I looked at the painting. The boy who looked like me was gone. Jake was standing in his place. I pulled him toward the entrance. The doors were locked. We tried the emergency exit. Nothing. Then we heard footsteps behind us. Step. Step. Step. We turned. The tall man was standing at the end of the hallway. He was facing the painting. Not us. Then he slowly raised one long hand and pointed at me. Jake whispered, “Don’t move.” The lights went out. I ran. I don’t remember reaching the entrance. I only remember the doors suddenly opening and rain hitting my face. Jake was outside with me. We ran home. The next morning, I went back with my mom. The employee said nobody had been trapped inside. I asked about the painting. He looked confused. “There is no painting like that.” He took me through the museum. The wall where it had been was completely empty. Then he stopped. He pointed to an old photograph beside the room. It showed the same family. Four people. But behind them stood the tall man. I looked closer. His face was visible now. It was mine. Then my phone vibrated. A new photo had appeared. It showed me standing in the museum. My mom was beside me. And behind us was the painting. The boy was no longer in it. There was only an empty space where he had been. Under the painting, someone had written: HE’S OUT NOW. I looked at my mom. She was staring at the hallway. “Who is that?” she whispered. I turned. The tall man was standing behind us. And this time, he was smiling with my face. #scary #scarystories #creepystorytime #captionstory #horrortok @.. - @metaphysiko