I’m an insomniac. Sleep has always been a rare commodity for me, so I found comfort in the weird corners of the internet. Specifically, YouTube. The endless array of videos kept my restless mind entertained. I would watch anything from cooking shows to documentaries, but my favorite was the horror genre.
It was late one night when I stumbled upon a channel that claimed to have the “scariest videos on YouTube,” updated daily with new horror stories. I was intrigued. The thumbnails were grotesque, the titles spine-chilling, and the descriptions hinted at nightmares beyond comprehension.
I clicked on one titled “A Whisper from the Attic,” and it began with shaky footage of a dark and derelict house. The narrator, with a voice that was both inviting and unsettling, told a tale of a family plagued by voices they couldn’t identify.
The video was terrifying, yet I couldn’t look away. My heart pounded as I continued to watch, one horror story after another. Each was more disturbing and more real than the last.
Days turned into a blur as I became addicted to the channel, consumed by the twisted tales that seemed so believable. It wasn’t just the stories that were unnerving; it was the comments section. Users spoke about similar experiences, validating the authenticity of the videos. I began to feel a part of something, a community of fear-seekers just like me.
One night, I noticed a new video, unlike any other. Its title was merely a string of numbers and symbols. There was no thumbnail, just a black void. Curiosity piqued, I clicked on it, expecting another thrill.
The screen remained black, and a low hum buzzed in my ears. No story, no imagery, just darkness and a growing sense of dread. My computer froze, and the hum intensified, resonating in my very bones. Panic set in as I frantically tried to close the tab, but it was unresponsive.
Then, the hum stopped, replaced by a whisper, barely audible: “Welcome to the real horror.”
My screen flickered, and an image appeared, an image of my own terrified face, reflected back at me. I was paralyzed, unable to comprehend what was happening. Had the horror transcended the screen? Was it now part of my reality?
The video ended abruptly, leaving me in a state of shock. My mind raced, searching for explanations, but I found none.
The next day, the video was gone, and the channel had disappeared, leaving no trace. Had it all been a twisted dream? A figment of my imagination? I wasn’t sure, but one thing was certain: the fear was real, and it had found a new home within me.
The following nights were filled with terror. Strange noises haunted my home, whispers in the darkness, unexplained shadows that lurked just out of sight. The nightmares had escaped the screen and were now part of my daily existence.
I had been drawn into a world I never wanted to be a part of, and there was no way out.
And then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped. The noises, the whispers, all gone. Silence reigned once more.
Or so I thought.
I received an email, no subject, no sender. Just a single line of text:
“See you in the next video.”
The email left me feeling cold and vulnerable. “See you in the next video.” The words echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder of the terror I had unleashed. I tried to trace the email’s origin, but it led to a dead end. There was no escape from the unseen subscriber who now seemed to have access to my life.
I stayed away from YouTube, even disconnected my computer, trying to distance myself from the horror. But the fear had burrowed its way into my psyche, turning everyday occurrences into nightmares.
Sleep was no longer an option, and each creak of my house became a dreadful reminder of what lay beyond the screen. I began to see things in my peripheral vision, shadows moving, whispers calling my name.
Days turned into sleepless nights, and I sought professional help. Therapists, doctors, anyone who could explain the madness that had overtaken me. But they didn’t understand. They couldn’t see what I saw. They didn’t hear what I heard.
I became isolated, my world shrinking as I withdrew from friends and family. They couldn’t comprehend the terror I faced. They believed it was all in my head, a product of my insomnia, my addiction to horror stories.
But I knew the truth.
It was real, and it was watching me.
I decided to face my fear. Reconnecting my computer, I logged onto YouTube. The channel was still gone, but the memory of the videos was as vivid as ever. I searched for any trace, any hint of the nightmare that had consumed me.
I found nothing.
But it found me.
A notification popped up, a new video on a channel I had never subscribed to. Its title was my name.
I clicked on it, and my screen filled with images of my life. Photos from my childhood, my family, my friends. Clips from my daily routine, my home, my work. It was a montage of my existence, every intimate detail laid bare.
And then, a voice, the same voice from the channel, narrating my life as if it were one of the horror stories.
“You thought you were watching the horror, but the horror was watching you. Welcome to the real story, the one you can never escape.”
The screen went black, and a new image appeared. A live feed of me, sitting at my computer, watching the video.
I stared in disbelief, my mind unable to comprehend what I was seeing. The horror had transcended the digital world. It was now a part of me, intertwined with my very existence.
The video ended with a message:
“Subscribe for daily updates on your life.”
The realization hit me like a cold wave. I was the horror story. I was the one being watched, my life narrated by an unseen force that had turned my existence into a terrifying tale.
I tried to delete my online presence, disconnect from the digital world, but it was too late. The unseen subscriber was always there, watching, narrating, turning my life into a never-ending nightmare.
I’m trapped, unable to escape the horror that has become my daily reality. Each day is a new chapter, each night a new terror.
The scariest videos on YouTube are no longer a source of entertainment; they are my life, a daily horror story that keeps me up at night.
And the unseen subscriber is always there, watching, waiting for the next update.
Subscribe?