It shows you another world, I think.

That was the first thing Barry said to me when he produced the battered camcorder.

He'd been sending me cryptic texts for days about a camera he'd found in the lot of his

office park.

At first, he'd just sounded excited that the weird find had broken up the monotony of

his workday, but then he got it home and began fiddling with it, finding an old adaptor

cord that he figured wouldn't work or would fry the thing.

But for a wonder, it didn't either.

A green light had come on, and two hours later, it seemed to be fully charged.

Sitting in my apartment, he handed me the camera gently.

My eyes going between it and his face as I tried to judge if he was joking.

I felt my stomach begin to twist when I saw he wasn't.

My worry must have shown in my face, he found it me slightly and started shaking his

head.

I know what you're thinking, but I'm not crazy.

He let out a shot, bit a laugh, or I'm not any more crazy than I was before.

Barry for a desire browsed up my silence, and I'm taking my meds and I haven't had

any paranoid thoughts or anything else odd.

He just stood to all the camera.

I smiled at him and nodded, trying to keep my expression in check.

Something was off.

It had to be if he believed what he was saying, but I'd never seen him this am top since

...