Like many people these days, I have the unfortunate affliction of being unable to fall asleep right away. Whether in complete darkness, or basking in the dim reflection of a phone screen, no matter how tired I become, sleep eludes me almost completely. It’s only when exhaustion takes over completely that my body allows for a few meager hours of fitful, uncomfortable rest, only to begin the cycle anew the next night. I’ve tried everything to remedy this; from pills to standing on my head before crawling into bed. Nothing forces my eyes to close faster, so I have taken up a small hobby in order to pass the time while my brain and body fight for control.
Living in a modern city, wildlife sightings have been reduced to street rats and the occasional overweight pigeon, so finding nature live streams was like a little slice of the country packed into my phone screen. Night after night, I found myself watching streams of giant bears fishing in Alaska, watering holes in Africa, even underwater piers in the southern US. There was one stream, however, that I always ended up coming back to.
It was situated on the outskirts of a large forest. The location information was strangely unavailable, however, the timestamp indicated that it was located somewhere on the East Coast. The camera was focused on the edge of a forest where a small feast of nuts, berries, and other treats was arranged for the denizens of the wood to come out and partake in every night once the sun had set. It was well-maintained and someone obviously cared very much for the creatures they provided for.
There were a few birds that flitted around during the day, but it was the night streams where the real activity was. Possums, raccoons, deer, foxes, even the occasional coyote would dash about on camera, their foraging unknowingly broadcast to whomever happened to be watching that night. There was no view count, so I was unable to tell if there were others who were watching along with me, or if I was experiencing this little treasure trove alone. Either way, I didn’t mind. It was something to keep me occupied until exhaustion allowed me to tap out for the night.
For a while, there was really nothing of interest. There wasn’t supposed to be. I don’t know how long it had been there before I had noticed it. At first, it looked almost like a poorly maintained halloween decoration. Its limbs were much too large for its emaciated body and its jaw appeared almost broken the way that it stood open, caught in a silent scream of agony with a mouth much too large in proportion to the rest of its features. It stood much too far back in the wooded area for the camera to focus on it, so most features were muddled and blurred in the backdrop of leaves and branches; the only thing that could be seen with an almost unsettling clarity were its eyes, two shimmering portals in the darkness, reflected in the night vision of the camera. It almost looked like a deer. A deer that had been mangled in some freak accident, perhaps, and still managed to survive the night. Regardless, its eyes were never focused on the camera directly. It appeared to be looking elsewhere, focused intently on a target off-camera.
It never moved from this position; at least, not while I had been watching it. It appeared and disappeared each night, seeming to blink in and out of reality, though rooted at the same exact spot. It never moved. It never breathed. Never even blinked. I thought, perhaps, that it was the reflection of some strange bird feeder, given how still it always was. Just catching the light strangely and manifesting a strange creature in the dark that my tired brain just couldn’t comprehend. Like seeing faces in clouds. Looking at that same spot during the day, however, confirmed that there was nothing there. Just deep dark woodland.
Whatever I’d been seeing was alive. Or at least it acted like it was.
Things changed one night. I don’t know what caused the change or why it happened. I was facing another bout of insomnia, sleep refusing to come for the umpteenth time, and I decided to again check the cameras. Things appeared normal for the most part. At least, I had thought so at first. The subtle differences came to my attention slowly. The timestamp on the camera had stopped working, or was at the very least malfunctioning, for though there was a light breeze pushing leaves about on screen, time was not passing as it normally would have. It wasn’t moving at all. It had stopped completely, frozen at the 0300 hour mark. Each second passed and the camera reset itself, the same one second of footage repeating itself over and over again.
It noticed me before I noticed it. The creature that had been standing just out of focus of the camera for what had felt like months at this point had shifted its attention. No longer focusing off-camera at some unknown target, it was now staring directly at the camera, head tilted at an unnatural angle. Not only was it staring directly at the camera, but it was staring through it. It was staring at me.
The static came next. A deafening static that persisted no matter how quickly I muted the stream and even after I reduced the sound on my phone to 0%. It poured forth in angry, constant hissing from my speakers, as if punishing me for daring to watch what was not meant for me. The scream came after, piercing through the static. Guttural, raw. Almost human. The stream died soon after that, leaving me alone in the darkness, the error message being the only remnant of what once was flashing dimly on my phone screen.
The stream never came back after that. The webpage is gone, replaced with a 404 and there’s no discussion boards about its disappearance online from what my research has gathered. It’s just gone.
Sometimes I can see it. Peering down at me through the slits in my curtains, it’s large eyes like saucers in the distance. It’s watching, it’s broken slack jaw twitching, as if trying to gnash its teeth at me, dreaming of grinding my bones to dust. I don’t know what it’s waiting for, but I know it wants me.
There’s a new livestream.
24/7 [Redacted] City Livestream. The camera is aimed directly at my apartment. Every night, it gets a little bit closer.