It started as a simple challenge, the kind people casually throw around on social media: “Nice pictures—don’t look if you can’t handle it.” Most people scroll past without thinking, but something about those words pulls you in. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s the quiet dare hidden inside them. Either way, you click.
At first, nothing seems unusual.
The first image is calm—almost peaceful. A quiet road stretching into the distance, lined with trees whose branches sway gently in the wind. The lighting is soft, golden, like early morning or just before sunset. It feels safe. Comfortable. You wonder why anyone would warn you about something like this.
Then you swipe.
The second image shifts slightly. Same road, same angle—but something is different. The trees look darker now, their shadows longer, stretching across the pavement like fingers. You didn’t notice it at first, but the sky has changed too. It’s no longer golden—it’s pale, almost gray. There’s a subtle unease that creeps in, though you can’t quite explain why.
You keep going.
The third image makes you pause.
There’s something there now. Far down the road, barely visible—a shape. It could be a person, or maybe just a trick of the light. You squint, trying to make sense of it. Your brain tells you it’s nothing, but your gut says otherwise.
Still, curiosity wins.
You swipe again.
The fourth image is closer.
The shape is clearer now. It’s definitely a figure standing in the middle of the road. Tall. Still. Facing directly toward the camera. You feel a small knot tighten in your stomach. You don’t remember seeing anyone in the earlier images.
You tell yourself it’s just staged. Probably part of the “challenge.”
But something feels off.
The fifth image—
Now it’s close enough to make out details.
The figure is human… or at least it looks human. Its posture is unnatural, slightly tilted, like it’s leaning without falling. Its arms hang too straight. And its face—there’s something wrong with its face.
You can’t fully see it, but you know something isn’t right.
You hesitate.
The warning echoes in your mind: Don’t look if you can’t handle it.
But you’ve already come this far.
So you swipe again.
The sixth image hits differently.
The figure is much closer now. Too close. Its face is visible—and yet, not. The features seem blurred, as if they’re shifting or refusing to settle into place. The eyes—if they are eyes—are dark, hollow spaces that seem to pull your attention in.
You feel your breath slow.
Your chest tightens.
You want to stop.
But you don’t.
The seventh image—
It’s right in front of you now.
The figure fills most of the frame. Its face is clearer, and that somehow makes it worse. The proportions are wrong. The smile—if it is a smile—is stretched too wide, too unnatural, like something trying to imitate human expression but not quite getting it right.
You feel a chill run down your spine.
And then you notice something that makes your heart skip.
The background has changed.
It’s no longer the road.
It’s closer. More enclosed. Like the image is no longer taken from a distance—but from your side.
You swallow hard.
You swipe again.
The eighth image—
There is no road anymore.
The figure stands in what looks like a room. Dimly lit. The walls are bare, the space empty except for it. And somehow, you feel like you recognize the layout.
It feels familiar.
Too familiar.
You look around your own space without meaning to. Everything is normal. The same walls. The same furniture.
You shake your head, trying to dismiss the thought.
It’s just a trick. Just images.
But your fingers are trembling now.
And yet… you swipe again.
The ninth image—
The figure is even closer.
Its face fills the screen now. The dark spaces where its eyes should be seem deeper, endless. Its expression hasn’t changed, but it feels more intense—more aware.
As if it knows you’re looking.
As if it’s been waiting.
You realize something then.
Each image hasn’t just been getting closer.
It’s been getting closer to you.
Your pulse quickens.
You don’t want to swipe again.
But the need to know—to see the end—is stronger than your fear.
So, slowly, you move your finger across the screen.
The tenth image—
For a moment, you think your screen has gone black.
But then you see it.
A reflection.
Your reflection.
Only… something is off.
Behind you, in the reflection, the figure is standing there.
Right behind you.
You freeze.
Your breath catches in your throat.
You don’t turn around.
You can’t.
Because deep down, you already know—
Some things aren’t meant to be seen.
