The Ghost in the Computer

It was early July, the summer before seventh grade. I was at home, sitting in front of my old desktop computer, playing an online puzzle game. The house was quiet, just the soft hum of the fan in the corner. Everything felt normal—until it didn’t.

Out of nowhere, the air behind me turned freezing. A sharp, icy chill touched my right shoulder. But the rest of the room was warm. Confused, I reached behind me. My hand stopped—mid-air. Something solid. But there was nothing there.

I held my breath, my heart pounding. Then, the mouse on my desk started moving on its own. The cursor dragged puzzle pieces into place, completing the game as if someone else was controlling it. My stomach twisted. I lifted my hand, but the mouse kept moving.

Then, the screen flickered. A chat box popped open. A name I didn’t recognize—GhostlyEcho93—appeared. Words started typing by themselves:

“Are you listening?”

I screamed and bolted out of the room.

For days, I refused to touch the computer. But one night, I passed by the office and saw the screen glowing. The browser was open—showing pictures of car accidents. My chest tightened. I reached for the mouse, but before I could touch it, the computer shut off.

The next morning, my dad turned on the computer. The desktop wallpaper had changed. It was a photo of me. But in the background—a shadowy figure stood behind me. Beside it, the words: “Stay away.”

I felt sick.

That afternoon, I was waiting at the bus stop. A weird feeling settled in my gut—like something was watching me. My hands were shaking. The closer the bus got, the more panicked I felt. Something wasn’t right.

Then, without thinking, I stepped away.

Seconds later, a black SUV came screeching down the road—too fast. It jumped the curb and slammed into the bus stop sign, right where I had been standing. If I hadn’t moved…

I ran home, shaken. I locked myself in my room. But the air turned freezing again.

Then, I felt it—a firm grip on my shoulder. My whole body tensed. I turned, but no one was there.

A soft, whispery voice filled my ears: “You’re safe now… goodbye.”

And then, a pale glow appeared—a shape, barely visible. A girl, about my age. She looked at me, smiled faintly, then faded into nothing.

Since that day, I never saw her again. But I know she was real. Because if she hadn’t warned me… I might not be here to tell this story.