Cursor: Digital Days and Nootropic Nights

What if the monster spying on you through your webcam was an actual monster?
A haunted computer virus goes on a killing spree in this terrifying tale of hexadecimal hexes and computer wyrms.

Chapter Zero: Rapt

Amy lazily scrolled down the list, until something caught her eye. She liked horror, but this was from an author shed never heard of. Still… Haunted computer virus? How does that work? She clicked "Read Sample". Okay… Kind of weird. Clearly a try-hard amateur, but it had potential. A couple of clicks later and her evening plans were set.

Fiction is a bargain. A bargain between you and the work. You agree to give time and attention, but more than that, you agree to give just a little bit of yourself. If a coworker tried to make you cry, you would resent it. But if a book does the same thing, you wipe away the tears and whisper, "thank you." When you read a story, you allow yourself to be seen, and seeing is power. Maybe the greatest power of all. Later that night, Amy shut off all the lights in the house, plopped down on the couch, and opened the app on her tablet. Finding the newest download at the top of the library, she decided to give it a look.

Having already read the first chapter (its very short), she jumped straight to the second. Met some characters, saw tiny shimmery glimpses of their personalities, and then there was an event that changed things, then another, and the light of the screen worked its magic, illuminating her and itself, all at once. The bargain was struck. She read on.

There were deaths, and there were mysteries, and there was a group of I.T. professionals who teamed up with an occult influencer to try and solve them. The story scrolled as her eyes grew wide. She was being pulled in, but then a sound off to the right, in the next room, startled her. The house settling? OR WAS IT A GHOST? She smiled and continued reading, while still keeping an eye on the doorway, which suddenly seemed… shadowy-er. More shadowy? Something. And so she read, and she watched the door, and then realized she was doing both at once.

Her right eye returned to the screen to avoid suspicion but it was too late; Amy knew something was wrong. She blinked but failed. Failed to blink? Why… Why couldnt she shut her eyes? The words on the screen loomed large, closer and closer, but… she wasnt moving the screen. Or her head. Closer, larger, and she could feel tears starting to form. The distant sound again, and this time her left eye flicked to the right, and she could see the stalk.

Glistening in the screenlight, it was too close to see clearly and too near to deny fully. A strange blur, definitely there, definitely real, and instinct tilted her right eye to the left and something bumped into something with a soft squish. The two halves of her vision overlapped and she felt sick and disoriented and knew she had to focus. She had to focus on the words. So clear, the only thing in her vision now, and suddenly even nearer, and words became letters and letters became shapes and shapes became pixels, all meaning lost, larger, closer, the story gone, just light in her eyes. There was a final double liquid "squick" and before she passed out from the pain, her brain played a little joke and thought, "Well, it is called a touchscreen."