My name is Lucie. I’m 34, a single mother to a five-year-old boy, and until recently, I never believed in anything paranormal. I was the rational type — the kind who believed everything had a scientific explanation. Shadows, creaks in the night, strange feelings — all just coincidence, right?

That’s what I thought, until we moved into the new apartment.

It’s been a year now. Exactly one year since I signed the lease on that quiet little flat in Lyon. It seemed perfect. Clean building, quiet neighbors, a view of a peaceful park, and — most importantly — a sunny bedroom for my son, Louis.

I still remember our first night there. We ate pizza on cardboard boxes and laughed until our stomachs hurt. Louis was happy, which made me happy.

The very next evening, everything changed.

A Still Shadow
I was closing the blinds in the living room when I noticed something odd across the courtyard. On the balcony of the building directly opposite ours — fifth floor, corner unit — stood a man.

Tall. Perfectly still. Wearing a long black coat. No phone, no cigarette, no movement.

He was just… staring.

I told myself he was just enjoying the evening air. But something about him was wrong. Off. He didn’t blink. He didn’t shift his weight. He just stood there, facing our window.

And the light behind him was always off.

“That apartment is empty.”
A few days later, I asked the building’s caretaker, Marc, who lived in that unit. He gave me a strange look.

“The one on the fifth floor? Corner apartment? That place has been empty since 2015.”

I laughed, nervously.

“No, I mean the one across from ours. I see someone on the balcony every night.”

Marc’s face tightened. He glanced around, then said quietly:
“You’re not the first to say that.”

I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck.

He Got Closer
Over the next few weeks, I saw the man every night. Always at the same time. Always motionless. But little by little… he started moving closer.

At first, he stood at the edge of the balcony. Then, just behind the glass doors. Eventually, I saw him inside the apartment — standing in complete darkness.

I bought a pair of hiking binoculars and looked again one night. What I saw made my stomach drop.

The man had no face.

His head was smooth, featureless — like a blank mannequin or an unfinished statue. No eyes. No mouth. Just skin.

I dropped the binoculars and locked every window in the apartment.

The Footage That Vanished
My best friend Camille, who works in media, told me to film him. “Catch it on camera,” she said. “Let’s see this faceless man.”

So I did.

I stood by the window and recorded for five full minutes. The man was there. I zoomed in. I even whispered a few words for context.

But when I checked the footage the next day, it showed nothing.

Just an empty balcony.

As if he’d never existed.

The Stories Came Out
I went back to Marc. This time, he didn’t try to avoid the topic.

“A woman used to live in your apartment,” he said. “She hung herself in the bathroom in 2017. She told her sister someone was watching her at night… from that same balcony.”

He paused.

“Before her, a teenage boy disappeared in the park. Fourteen years old. His last words to his mother were: ‘The man with no face wants me to come play.’”

I didn’t know what to say.

That night, I barely slept.

My Son Saw Him Too
A few days ago, Louis looked up at me during breakfast and asked:

“Mom, why does the man in black want me to go outside at night?”

I froze.

“What man, baby?”

“The one on the balcony. He taps on the window sometimes. I pretend to be asleep.”

That night, I stayed in Louis’s room. I didn’t close my eyes once.

At 3:14 a.m., I saw him.

He was no longer across the courtyard.

He was on our balcony.

Standing there, hands pressed against the glass. No face. No expression. No sound.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t breathe. I just stared. After what felt like an eternity, he stepped backward into the darkness and disappeared.

I locked the windows. Every one of them. The next day, I started searching for a new apartment.

Louis hasn’t said a word since.

Think I’m Lying?
That’s fine. I would too.

But if you ever find yourself in Lyon, go stand in front of building C, fifth floor, at 3:14 a.m.

Look up.

And tell me what you see.