Seven Days

It had been seven days since I watched the tape. The one everyone warned me about. My hands were clammy, and my heart thudded relentlessly against my chest, each beat a countdown to the inevitable.

I stayed away from the TV, ever since that damn phone call. “Seven days.” It echoed in my head like a death sentence, growing louder with each passing minute. But tonight was the seventh night, and all I had to do was survive till morning. I locked myself in my room, away from the living room where the TV sat, the same one I’d stupidly dared myself to watch the tape on. The only light in the room was my computer monitor, flickering with a dim, blueish glow. I kept it on for company, some part of me wanting to pretend the screen’s gentle hum was safe, different from the cold, haunting pull of the television.

I wouldn’t let her get me.

As midnight crept in, an unsettling chill filled the air. The screen glitched, lines of static dancing across the display. I backed away, my breath catching in my throat. "No… not the computer," I whispered. But the screen flickered again, and there she was. Her long, stringy black hair, wet and hanging in front of her face. Her white dress, tattered, soaked, dragging behind her. Crawling toward me. From my computer monitor.

Panic clawed at my chest as she emerged, inch by inch, her body contorting out of the screen. But something was off. She wasn’t towering over me, her cursed presence filling the room like in the tape. No. She was… tiny?

I blinked. The terrifying spirit, the one who was supposed to drag me to the other side, was no more than 16 inches tall! She plopped onto my desk, looking up at me with those eerie, glowing eyes that seemed less menacing when scaled down to doll-size. Her head tilted slightly, confused, maybe as startled by the situation as I was. She took a step forward, her tiny feet making soft pattering sounds on my desk as her long hair dragged behind her like a dark veil.

"You're... you're so small," I stammered, my fear fading into something else—confusion, amusement. She opened her mouth, perhaps to let out the horrifying screech I'd been expecting, but all that came out was a high-pitched squeak.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. She huffed, looking frustrated as her hair flopped over her face, and she awkwardly tried to brush it back. This was the terrifying ghost? The one that had haunted my nightmares for a week?

As if defeated, she sat down with a pout, crossing her arms in front of her. I swear, if a ghost could sulk, this was it. And I almost felt bad for her.

Almost.