Don't Read this in the Dark

You're lying in bed. The room is silent, except for the soft buzz of your phone. Its glow paints your face in cold light, but everything above it-your ceiling, your walls, your corners-is swallowed in black.

You're reading a horror thread. It's about someone just like you. Alone. Late. Reading by phone light. The post says: "The glow blinds you. You won't see it until you lower the screen."

You glance up.

Nothing.

You keep reading. The next line says: "It waits above the light. It knows you won't look twice."

You do.

Still nothing.

But now your heart's ticking faster. You scroll. The story describes a sound-a faint creak, like weight shifting on the ceiling. You pause. Was that your house settling? Or-

You look up again.

Still nothing.

But it's there. Staring at you. While your reading this.

You tilt the phone down, just a little. The glow recedes. Your eyes adjust. The shadows above you deepen.

You freeze.

No buzz. No hum. Just silence.

You lower the phone more. The screen dims. Your pupils widen.

And then you see it.

A shape. Just barely. Hanging from the ceiling. Limbs curled like a spider. Head tilted toward you. Watching. Waiting. It's been there the whole time, just outside the radius of your screen's light.

You blink.

It's gone.

You raise the phone again. The glow returns. You scroll faster. The story says: "It moves when you read. It feeds on your distraction."

You stop.

You look up.

It's closer.

You drop the phone. The room plunges into darkness.

You hear it move.

Don't turn off your phone screen.

It's waiting for that.