“The Screen Never Stops”
You clicked the link without thinking. It was just another video, another random upload, titled “You’ll want to see this.” That was the first mistake. It wasn’t like any other video you’d seen before. The screen flickered just a little too much, as if the pixels were struggling to keep the image together. The video started, but you couldn’t make sense of what you were seeing.
It was just static at first. Then something else. Something that wasn’t quite a face, but looked like it had been trying to form one—twisted and broken, half-real and half-dream. A face, but not quite. It smiled. Or… it tried to.
The audio was nothing but a hum, barely audible at first, but it grew louder. A low, buzzing sound, like it was coming from inside your own head. You wanted to click away, to close the window, but your cursor wouldn’t move. The screen didn’t let you. The hum started to shift, turning into words, garbled and unintelligible at first, until—you heard your name.
It doesn’t let you leave. It doesn’t stop. The words came faster, louder, more urgent. “I can see you, waiting,” it whispered from the screen, but it wasn’t a whisper at all—it felt like a scream that was pushing through the wires and directly into your skull. The static became sharp, unbearable, each pulse like a jolt of electricity forcing you to stare, unable to look away.
You tried to shut down the computer, but the screen was already… alive.
It wasn’t a video. Not anymore.
And now, as you look at the screen, you wonder how long it will be before it starts asking you to join it.
The cursor blinked. The message was waiting.
You’re already too late.