A Dream Right?
Mykal stared at the glowing words on his screen.
Sign now!
The words sat there, pulsing slightly, as if mocking him.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, no. Nice try, buddy."
Whoever made this site knew their stuff. This wasn't some basic malware—it had dug deep enough to bypass his layers of security like they were nothing. A damn good virus. Probably one of those well-crafted persistent threats that latched onto systems and refused to let go.
"Alright, enough of this crap," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Time to wipe it clean."
With the confidence of someone who had done this a hundred times before, he got to work.
First, he cut the power, ensuring the infection wouldn't spread deeper. Then, he booted up his backup system, a separate OS he had set up for cases just like this. From there, he accessed his main drive, overwriting everything with a fresh install. He even went the extra step of wiping his BIOS, just in case.
Full reformat. No traces left.
After about an hour, he leaned back, satisfied. "That should do it," he said, stretching his arms over his head.
He powered everything back up, waiting for the familiar startup sequence. His monitors flickered, the clean OS booting smoothly. No signs of the virus.
"Easy," he smirked.
But then—
Before he could even open a browser, the screens glitched.
Lines of static streaked across the display, distorting the crisp UI. His mouse froze. The keyboard became unresponsive. And then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the interference vanished.
Leaving behind the same, chilling words:
Sign now!
A deep, sharp frustration twisted in Mykal's chest. His jaw clenched as he slammed his fist onto his desk.
"Damn it!"
He had just reformatted everything. A full wipe. There was no way in hell anything should have survived that.
And yet, here it was.
Mocking him.
Mykal gritted his teeth.
Fine. Again.
He went through the entire process once more—full system wipe, BIOS reset, everything. He even switched to a different external drive to install a clean OS. There was no way the virus could survive this.
Reboot.
Startup sequence.
Clean desktop.
No glitches. No signs of anything weird.
But then.
A flicker. A brief static distortion.
And then—
Sign now!
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
He pushed back from his desk, breathing hard. His hands curled into fists as his patience snapped.
Again.
He reformatted everything for the third time. Then a fourth. A fifth.
Each time, he watched, hoping—praying—that it would be gone.
Each time, it came back.
No matter what he did.
It was like the damn thing was alive.
His frustration boiled over into blind rage. His pulse pounded in his ears as he grabbed his entire monitor and, with a furious scream, hurled it to the floor.
CRASH.
The screen shattered instantly, pieces of glass and plastic flying everywhere.
"F*CK YOU!" he shouted at the broken mess, his chest heaving.
From the thin apartment walls, a muffled voice snapped back:
"SHUT THE F*CK UP! SOMEONE'S RESTING!"
Mykal clenched his jaw. Of course.
Of f*cking course.
He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to calm down. It wasn't worth getting into a shouting match with some random neighbor.
Taking a deep breath, he turned away from the wreckage and threw himself onto his bed. His entire setup was gone. He'd have to replace everything.
Good thing he could afford it.
Pulling out his phone, he opened his usual electronics store app to place an order. New monitors, a new tower—hell, maybe even a better cooling system. Might as well upgrade if he had to rebuild.
But as he tapped through the selections, his fingers hesitated.
His screen showed something weird.
3:21 AM.
…What?
That didn't make sense. That didn't make any f*cking sense.
He had spent hours wiping and reinstalling his system. He had raged, broken a monitor, argued with a neighbor. And yet—only a single minute had passed?
His stomach twisted. He slowly turned his head toward the wall clock.
3:20 AM.
The same.
His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. His hands clenched around his phone.
"What the hell is happening?" he muttered.
Mykal stared at his phone, his fingers trembling slightly. The screen flickered. Then, just like before—
Sign now!
His stomach dropped. His phone too?
His frustration turned to unease. He tapped the screen, trying to close it. Nothing. He pressed the power button—still nothing. The prompt remained, pulsing.
"This isn't real," he muttered. "It's just a virus. It's just a goddamn virus."
Then—
A bright glow filled the room.
His head snapped toward his desk.
His monitors.
They were on.
But—they were unplugged.
And yet, there they were, fully powered, casting an eerie glow in the darkened room. Every single screen displayed the same thing.
Sign now!
His breath quickened. His hands felt clammy.
No. No, no, no. This wasn't possible.
He had smashed his main monitor. The damn thing was in pieces on the floor. The cables were disconnected. The power was off.
And yet—
Every screen in his room was alive.
The words flickered, faster, more aggressive.
Sign now. Sign now. Sign now.
It felt like the walls were closing in. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. His fingers dug into his bedsheet.
His breathing turned ragged. His body felt stiff. It felt like a nightmare.
Then—
He screamed.
And suddenly—
He sat up, gasping for air.
His room was silent.
The monitors were off. No eerie glow. No glitching prompts.
Just darkness.
Mykal's chest rose and fell rapidly. He looked around, his head still spinning. His eyes landed on his gaming chair.
His blanket was still draped over it.
His blanket. The same one he had gone to retrieve.
Slowly, he turned his head toward the clock.
4:00 AM.
…4?
His breath steadied. A small, tired smirk tugged at his lips.
"What the hell is happening to me?" he muttered, rubbing his face.
A dream? All of that—just a dream?
He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "I need to cut back on the caffeine."
Still, something about it lingered. The eerie vividness of it all. The way it felt too real.
But whatever.
It was just a dream.
Right?