A few nights ago, like most nights, I had trouble getting to sleep. Because of this I did what I usually do and watched YouTube.
Well, watch is a general term considering I typically pass out before the watch part even happens.
Night 1: As usual I turned on my tv and browsed for something good and relaxing. Anything long, boring was a plus. At finding my perfect video, listening to the mans drolling voice behind the screen, I was soon out. I remember this night specifically because when I awoke something odd was now playing on the screen. It was ASMR, but ASMR of someone performing taxedermy (I wasn’t even aware YouTube allowed that sort of thing). I watched as the man on screen stuffed a fox, thankfully long dead. He snipped it’s stomach open wide with a pair of elongated steel scissors and began filling it with something white he grabbed from off screen. Its stomach parted as if no more than dried paper rather than the skin of a once living being. The man handled the carcass with great care, whether for the sake of show or bevause he truly did care I could not tell.
All the while he whispered about the process. How he had killed the fox, why it was ok he had done so, and how it would now serve a new, beautiful purpose. Sure it was once here with us, I’m just doing the favor of returning its likeness once again.
The fox was long dead, but its eyes had yet to be removed. I remember thinking that they stared at me. How they stared through me. They had not lost their glossy sheen. And despite the man shoving handfuls of things in its stomach, the fox’s eyes told me it could stand at any moment and walk away. I stared until I couldn’t stomach the video anymore, at which I turned it off and deleted it from my history. I didn’t want to wake up to anything like that again.
Night 2: I had trouble sleeping yet again, this time mostly due to the video I had seen the night before. The fox’s eyes, coupled with the mans soft, raspy talk about stuffing an animal plsyed in my head. How it stared while the old man so casually worked on its insides.
I debated just staying up, but with work the next day it seemed like an awful time to pull an all-nighter. So, back to YouTube I went. Upon turning the channel on my tv I noticed something odd, a new account had been made and its bubble sat next to mine. Just a basic user account. One with a standard image of initals in a circle, DB, and one of those stock names “User031495”. I thought it was a little odd, but it was possible that while I kept it on all night YouTube created an account. Upon clicking the account it let me in without so much as a password, so I began browsing. The channel was just the normal standard videos. Popular kids games and challenes featuring people with too much money; guides, like rope tying or brick laying, the usual rabbithole.
Without much thought I deleted the account and did my best to sleep. As usual, the night was dreamless. Just the empty expanse of my mind.
Upon awaking I felt better than usual. Based on the time I slept and the time it was when my alarm went off it had only been 4 hours, but I felt as if I had gotten a full nights rest. My tv was off already. No weird fox video, to which I was thankful.
There was a weird aura in my apartment though. Some cabinets were slightly ajar, the back door to the balcony wasn’t locked (which I could have sworn I did), and the living room light was on. These things weren’t unbelievably strange on their own, but in the kitchen, on the fridge, was a sticky note with a drawing. A scribbled black circle. I couldn’t tell what it was meant to be, and maybe I didn’t want to, so I tried to rationalize it. Maybe I did it in my sleep. I hadnt done anything like that in years. Back when I lived with my girlfriend I used to on occasion, but when she passed I stopped. The doctors said something vague about trauma doing weird things when I asked about the halt in my night activity.
Night 3: Though the weird drawing on the fridge freaked me out, I chalked it up to something rational. It was probably me just thinking of the fox again. Becoming restless in my sleep as I had used to. I would just visit my therapist tomorrow. She could at least try to help me rationalize.
Bed time again with the same routine. 3am, remote in hand, going to YouTube. But upon opening it I froze. The account was back. This time the image for the profile was a black circle, instead of the standard randomly assigned color. The name had yet to change: DB, User031495. I felt the need to run. To leave the apartment and sit in my car to gather my thoughts, but thoughts of something lurking in the hallway, or waiting in the darkness of the living room kept me in place. I looked over for the assurance of my door still locked, which thankfully it was. It was possible YouTube created the account again, but the same randomly generated name twice? And the image was set, not one of the defaults.
This time, upon clicking into the profile, the recommended videos were much different. It was mostly videos of eyes. Close ups of just eyes, staring back at me. The more I scrolled the more they watched. The titles were things like are you being watched?, the many eye colors of humans, cryptids found in weird places.
Are you being watched
Are you being watched
Are you being watched
Are you being watched
The same video, repeated.
Then at the very end of the scroll was the video from a few nights before. The taxidermy fox. In the thumbnail the man behind the deflated fox looked to the camera with a smile, but this time, so did the fox. It sat nearly upright, craning its empty neck to be able to stare back at me with those blackened holes. Its hollowed mouth curled at the edges to form a sort of hollow smile, almost mimicking the man behind him.
I didn’t stay in the apartment that night.
Very calmly I got my keys and wallet, packed a bag, and left, sure that if I showed any signs of panic I’d be dragged through the tv somehow. That night I didn’t get any sleep, but at least I did so in a hotel down the road. The thought of guests close by put me at ease, if only a little. I had no plan. Either someone was getting into my account to mess with me, or I was going crazy.
That day I called into work. Told them I thought I was getting sick, not entirely untrue. Instead I spent the day in the lobby of the hotel watching faces go by. If anyone stopped to say hi I tried to talk to them as much as I could. In my panic I had forgotten to bring any entertainment and I surely wasn’t going back for anything. Most people politely tried to end the conversation and go back to their rooms. Others spoke at length with me, but some, some looked at me with hollow, blackened eyes as they passed. When I would actually analyze them they always appeared as normal, which eased my mind that maybe it was my lack of sleep getting the better of me.
Day 4: I was awoken by a stranger, some time near dark. A woman, a hotel worker in a neat uniform. She told me I had fallen asleep and the lobby was about to close. I thanked her and headed to my room with an anxiety in my chest. I wanted to beg her to let me stay. To let me sleep here, where travelers could pass by and ensure I was safe. But that would be an ovverreaction surely. Instead I went to my room and laid in bed.
In bed I remembered my missed appointment with my therapist, Rebecca. Upon checking my phone I had a missed call from her, but it was late and I didnt want to bother, even now.
Night 4: Despite all odds, I managed to get a few hours of rest. Nothing concrete. Nothing that lasted. Just surface level sleep. Upon awaking the tv was on. I scrambled for the remote, positive what would be on, but couldn’t find it anywhere.
This time it wasn’t my account that was open, it was the alternate, now with a name: Diane Belgray. A name I recognized from years spent together before her sudden passing.
The video that played was of the fox yet again. The man whispered We can perserve what we love through the art of taxidermy, see? This fox that would have otherwise decayed into the dirt will live on. This time the fox’s eyes were dead. Nothing rested in their sockets. I finally managed to get the tv off and the light on. The room seemed normal, but along my stomach traced in black was a dashed line.
Now im not sure what to do. Do I just avoid technology the rest of my life? Anything with a screen? I contacted my therapist and plan to see her tomorrow but that’s another night of this shit. I plan to go to some 24hr place and wander all night if they’ll let me. Honestly it seems like some sick game, like someone’s getting off on making my life hell, but how would they have found the hotel and got in?
Either way all I know is I won’t be sleeping anytime soon unless others are around.