Digital Phantoms

The first time Liam saw the glitch, he brushed it off as a software bug. It was a flicker on his screen—a brief, unnatural distortion in the corner of his webcam feed. He had been live-streaming his late-night gaming session, and for a split second, a shadowy figure appeared behind him, standing just beyond the dim glow of his monitor.

He turned around, expecting to see his cluttered room exactly as he had left it. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of his PC and the eerie sensation that someone had been watching him. His chat exploded with messages:

“Dude, who was that?”

“There’s someone in your room!”

“Holy crap, check your webcam feed!”

A cold chill crept up Liam’s spine. He rewound the footage and played it back in slow motion. The shadow flickered again, but this time, he noticed something more disturbing—it had eyes. Two pale, glowing orbs that stared directly into the camera before vanishing into the digital void.

For the rest of the stream, his viewers were on high alert, scanning every frame for signs of the phantom. The rational part of Liam's mind told him it was a glitch, a corrupted frame caused by bad encoding or poor internet connectivity. But deep down, he wasn’t so sure.

That night, he struggled to sleep. The darkness of his room felt heavier than usual, like it was pressing down on him. His mind kept replaying that moment on his screen, those eyes locked onto his. At some point, exhaustion won, and he drifted into a restless slumber.

The next day, Liam woke up to dozens of messages from his followers. Some had clipped the footage, analyzing it frame by frame. A few claimed they saw the figure moving, shifting, distorting like corrupted data. Others went deeper, suggesting it wasn’t just a glitch—it was something else. Something in the system.

Curiosity gnawed at him. He decided to dig into the technical side, scouring his PC for any signs of malware, reviewing his streaming software, and even resetting his webcam settings. Nothing seemed out of place. But as he navigated his files, he noticed something odd—a new folder on his desktop labeled “Echo”.

He didn’t remember creating it.

Liam hesitated for a moment before clicking it open. Inside was a single video file, untitled, timestamped from the night before. He double-clicked, and the screen filled with static before revealing a dark, grainy image. It was his own room, filmed from the exact angle of his webcam. But in the footage, Liam wasn’t there. Instead, the shadow stood in his place, facing the camera.

It didn’t move. It didn’t blink.

And then, the screen glitched. The figure was suddenly closer. Another glitch—closer still. With each frame, it edged forward, until all that was left were those two glowing eyes filling the screen.

Liam slammed his laptop shut, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His skin was cold, his heartbeat hammering in his ears. This wasn’t just a prank. This wasn’t just a bug.

Something was trying to reach him.

Determined to understand what was happening, Liam took to the internet, searching for any similar cases. He stumbled across a forum thread discussing “Digital Phantoms”—ghostly anomalies that manifested through technology. The thread was filled with stories of people encountering figures in corrupted video files, hearing whispers through their headphones, or finding mysterious images appearing in their photo albums.

One user, ByteDecay, had posted something eerily familiar:

"If you see the eyes, don’t engage. It watches. It learns. The more attention you give it, the stronger it becomes."

Liam’s stomach churned. He wanted to believe this was just some creepy internet myth, a rabbit hole of urban legends designed to spook people. But the video file sitting on his desktop told him otherwise.

Against his better judgment, he reopened the folder. The video file was gone. In its place was a new one, timestamped just minutes ago. His fingers trembled as he clicked it open.

This time, it wasn’t just his room.

It was a live feed.

And it was showing him from behind.

Liam spun around, his breath catching in his throat. The room was empty. But the live feed continued, the camera angle shifting slightly, as if unseen hands were holding it.

Then, the whisper came.

A faint, distorted voice crackling through his speakers.

“I see you.”

The lights flickered. His screen distorted into static before shutting off completely. Liam shoved himself away from his desk, his pulse a wild drumbeat against his ribs. His instincts screamed at him to leave, but his legs felt frozen in place.

And then, his phone buzzed.

A notification.

A message from an unknown number.

It was a single image. A grainy, black-and-white photo of his bedroom—taken from inside his closet.

Liam bolted out of his chair, rushing to his closet door. He hesitated, his hand trembling on the handle. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to run, to leave the house and never look back. But he had to know.

With one deep breath, he yanked the door open.

Nothing.

Just his clothes, his shelves, the mundane clutter of everyday life. But something felt… wrong. The air inside was stale, unnaturally cold. He stepped back, his skin crawling with unease.

His phone buzzed again.

Another message.

“Behind you.”

Liam didn’t turn around.

Instead, he ran.

The next morning, he packed up his things and left the apartment. He didn’t tell anyone why. He barely spoke at all. He just knew he couldn’t stay. Not after what happened. Not after what he saw.

Days turned into weeks. The further he got from his old place, the more he tried to convince himself it had all been some elaborate nightmare. But deep down, he knew better.

Because sometimes, late at night, when his new place was quiet and still, he would hear it.

A faint whisper crackling through his phone.

“I see you.”