The Collection

It's Just You

 You sit there, staring at the black T.V. screen; legs are crossed on your living room's carpeted floor. After a while of just staring at the empty screen you question yourself why you haven't turned on the T.V. When you do, your arm stretches behind you and grabs the remote off the coffee table. The power button compresses down as you casually turn on the television. A cleaning product commercial fills the screen to show it's alive. Using the remote you flip through the channels for quite some time.

One channel, however, catches your attention; you didn't even know you had this channel.

On the screen, you were face to face with a girl around your age, who was sitting with her legs crossed, head down, as everything was deathly silent. Her black hair was covering her face, her white dress was tattered, her skin had no color; she looked like she belonged in a black and white movie. You could see ear-bud cords connected to an old cassette tape recorder and the ear-buds disappear into her hair (you can assume they were in her ears). She was sitting on an unimaginably white, granite floor. It stretched for miles but where it ends, blurry colors sat there, not moving. It looked like a nature shot of a field of flowers and mountains that were blurred.

For a couple of minutes she just sat there, and you just sat there, too. Only staring, trance-like. You can't remember when the black creature started slowly coming up from behind her. You couldn't tell what it was,either; it too, was blurry, even as it was coming closer. However, you gasp since an overwhelming sense of evil floods every inch of your body. This thing was going to hurt her. It stops around a foot away from her and slowly reaches its long, black, still blurred hand out to her shoulder. All you could do was stare in shock about how this obviously evil was about to touch this oblivious girl. It's hand was only an inch away, before she gasped and jerked her head up.

But literally, just as she did that, you heard a loud crash beside you, so you quickly turn your head to the noise, rather than see the girl's face. Somehow, the glass of water sitting on the coffee table fell. You silently tell yourself you'll clean it up in a minute, and you turn back to the screen.

They were gone. In their place was a black, ran down house and to the left, an old radio tower. Upon studying the tower, the radio in your living room turns on. It's ominous static pulls you away, but the screen creepily, beckons you back. You turn back to the T.V, and the door to the house was now open. You could faintly hear, behind all of the static from the radio, a male voice brokenly seems say, "...touch the screen..."

For reasons unknown, you have an unbearable urge to comply. As you gradually get onto your knees, your hand floats up to reach towards the T.V.; the voice on the radio gets louder. All you could hear was "...touch the screen... touch the screen... touch the screen..." Just as your fingers felt the cold glass, all of the static disappears and the voice panic-ly screams, "DON'T TOUCH THE SCREEN!"

Then everything turns off; you jumped back and land hard on your butt. The T.V., the radio, the lights, even the 4:30pm sun goes out, and you are left in the darkness. The carpet beneath you has become a cold, smooth, solid ground.

The lights jolt on, and sitting in front of you is the girl. You quickly realize you are in the place that was on the T.V.; no longer in the "safety" of your own home. As she slowly looks up, she begins to transform. Now you are looking at yourself. You bring up your hand, and so does the other. You reach forward, as does the other. Right when you were about to touch the other you's hand, you could feel that is was a warm, smooth glass; a mirror.

The worst part, however, was that you could see the black thing behind your reflection, reaching towards you. But this time, it was no longer blurry.

"Nowhere to run." It whispers. And sadly, it was right.