It begins innocently enough. Every night at 3:00 a.m., strange knocks echo through my bedroom wall, prompting curiosity and unease. I finally decide to document this peculiar occurrence, believing it might unveil the mystery hidden behind the drywall. Armed with my phone, I set up a camera aimed at the wall, the faint glow of the screen illuminating my anxious face. The ticking clock reverberates in the stillness, like a countdown to something extraordinary. As the hour approaches, my heart pounds, half-excited and half-terrified, knowing that I am about to confront whatever lies beyond. At exactly 3:00 a.m., the knocks start—rhythmic, persistent, each thud echoing louder than the last. Suddenly, I gasp. A pale hand slowly emerges from the wall’s surface, fingers curling outward as if yearning for freedom. The air thickens with dread as I capture this horrifying moment. Is it a ghost, or something more sinister, a manifestation of something the universe has kept hidden? Frozen in fear, I stand there, phone still recording every second of this encounter. My mind races with questions: What is this thing? Why now? The innocence of my curiosity has turned into an unsettling reality. I must uncover the truth behind these knocks and the hand that reached through the wall.