/0/73917/coverbig.jpg?v=9129d0a99770ba894dc7907b974803dd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
📡 The Live Feed 👁️ Ethan wanted a thrill. A taste of real fear. So, against all warnings, he dove into the dark web and stumbled upon The Watchers' Stream-a mysterious live feed with no rules, no explanations... and no escape. But when the screen starts showing his own bedroom, Ethan realizes this isn't just some creepy video. Something is watching him. And worse-it's getting closer. The messages flood in: 🛑 "Don't move." 👁️ "We see you." 📸 "Smile." By the time he understands the truth, it's too late. Because once you watch the feed... the feed starts watching you. Would you dare to click ENTER? 😱🔴
Chapter 1 The Invitation
huhuhuhuEthan craved fear. Not the cheap kind from horror movies, but something real-something that would make his skin crawl long after the screen went dark. That's why, when his friend Jason mentioned the dark web, Ethan's curiosity burned.
"You ever hear of 'The Watchers' Stream'?" Jason asked, his voice lower than usual. "It's not just some messed-up site. People who watch it... they say things start watching back."
Ethan scoffed. "Yeah? And who told you that? Some random guy on Reddit?"
Jason just shook his head. "Don't look for it, man. Just... don't."
That night, alone in his dimly lit room, Ethan ignored Jason's warning. He masked his IP, plunged into the dark web, and found it. No description. No rules.
"The Watchers' Stream"
A single button: ENTER.
His fingers hovered, hesitating. Then, he clicked.
The screen flickered. Text appeared:
"Welcome, Viewer #248. Enjoy the show."
The stream began.
For the first few minutes, it was nothing unusual-grainy footage of abandoned locations. The eerie silence made it unsettling, like something should be happening but wasn't. Then, the camera angle changed.
Ethan's stomach dropped.
The screen showed his bedroom.
The feed was live. His unmade bed. His half-open closet. The dim blue glow of his monitor. The angle was slightly off, as if someone had placed a hidden camera in the room with him.
A cold sensation crept up his spine. He whipped around.
Nothing.
He turned back to the screen. A chat box had appeared at the bottom of the stream.
"Don't move."
Ethan's breath caught in his throat. A second message popped up.
"We see you."
His monitor flickered. The camera feed zoomed in-toward his closet door.
A sliver of blackness between the wood panels widened.
A darkened hand-long, gnarled fingers-gripped the edge of the doorframe.
A deep, guttural breathing sound crackled through his speakers. Slow. Ragged. Inhuman.
The chat flooded with new messages:
"It's watching."
"Don't blink."
"Too late."
Ethan's heartbeat thundered. His phone vibrated violently.
Unknown Number: "Don't turn around."
The words made his breath hitch. He wanted to dismiss it, to laugh it off as an elaborate prank, but something deep in his gut twisted.
His fingers hovered over his keyboard. His hands weren't steady anymore.
Who is this? he typed.
No response.
The screen flickered again. The video feed zoomed closer. The closet door was open just a bit more now, enough to reveal more of the hand. It wasn't just fingers. It was an entire arm, unnaturally long and disturbingly thin, its skin pale and sickly gray.
The chat exploded.
"It moved."
"RUN."
"Too late."
Ethan's stomach churned. His hands were clammy as he grabbed his phone and turned on the flashlight. He pointed it at his closet.
Nothing.
The door was closed.
But on his screen-it was still open.
The light trembled in his grasp. He forced himself to his feet, creeping toward the closet door. His breath was uneven, every step slow, measured, his own heartbeat deafening in his ears.
When he reached out, his fingers barely brushed the doorknob before-
KNOCK. KNOCK.
A sudden, sharp knocking sound from inside the closet.
Ethan's body locked up. He staggered back, the phone nearly slipping from his hands. His computer screen flickered violently. The chat erupted:
"DO NOT OPEN IT."
"Get out."
"It's HERE."
Then, the screen changed. The live feed distorted, colors warping, glitching, then stabilizing into something worse.
A new camera angle.
This one wasn't from his room anymore.
It was from inside the closet.
The image was grainy, but Ethan saw it. A tall, gaunt figure. Eyes black as voids. A mouth stretched into an inhuman grin. It was watching him.
His phone buzzed again. Another message.
Unknown Number: "Enjoy the show."
The closet door creaked open.
Ethan could see the shadow now, tall and stretched unnaturally long, spilling onto the floor like ink. The breathing grew louder-deep, hollow, vibrating through his bones. He wanted to move, to run, but his feet felt cemented in place.
The screen flickered again, and now there was only text:
"Welcome, Viewer #249."
Then-
The screen cut to black.
/0/71279/coverorgin.jpg?v=9e49a76b6b5eef1f9b662f77b9729717&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/58777/coverorgin.jpg?v=2441169672279a7f9bfa90e3eb197e31&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/20109/coverorgin.jpg?v=3d7aa366f9214347e00f8835d9a152eb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/69719/coverorgin.jpg?v=8d39e7123d38965a37d9737709c34ae0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/70252/coverorgin.jpg?v=f19edd236badcc00e103bab63c2fcbe2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/57632/coverorgin.jpg?v=e2f48eed89a46e424c9cb52014c76aa7&imageMogr2/format/webp)