Someone just took a walk of the long-abandoned farm that used to belong to my family on TikTok. He should not have gone there.

It's past midnight. I'm sitting in bed, looking through TikTok, even though it's way past the time I should be asleep. I'm aware that it's a bad habit. But you are here, right, reading Medium?

The last video I watched was of a cat wearing a helmet in the shape of a melon. I click away from it, and a live stream shows in its place. It's dark inside an old building that's falling apart, and flashlights or torches make it look like the light is flashing. "Ghost hunters" or words that sound close. Not my cup of tea. Someone or something stops me in my tracks as I lift my finger to browse again.

The camera pans across a black-and-white picture in a frame on the wall. The day my grandparents got married. I stay still and pay close attention to the camera as it moves forward. Since I visited their farm as a child, I've looked at that picture a lot, so I could recognize it anywhere. This picture was my favorite on their walls out of all of them.

This TikTok couldn't be at the farm where my grandparents used to live, could it? It was true to say that after they died, it was left to get worse. I take a look at their name, GhostFighter365. I keep telling myself I should check out their page to see where else they've been, but I can't take my eyes off of this stream right now for fear that it will disappear forever.