Toshi Yeso's life was painfully normal.
Seventeen, final year of high school, average grades, average friends, average everything. He wasn't the kind of person people remembered after a conversation, and he preferred it that way. Quiet routines made sense. Predictable days felt safe.
Every morning, he walked the same road to school—the narrow path beside the river. The water moved slowly this time of year, reflecting the dull grey sky like a sheet of metal. He often stopped at the same bench, dropping his bag beside him, scrolling through his phone before class.
That evening felt no different.
The air was colder than usual. Not freezing—but enough to make him pull his jacket tighter. The streetlights flickered on one by one, casting long shadows across the pavement.
Toshi sat on the bench, earphones in, thumb lazily swiping through short videos.
Comedy. Gaming. Random edits.
Then—
A video caught his attention.
No title. No description. Just a still frame: a woman standing in a long hallway, wearing a plain white dress.
He almost skipped it.
But something about it felt… off.
He tapped it.
The video started.
The camera was fixed. No movement. No sound.
The hallway looked old—walls stained, paint peeling, a single dim light flickering above.
At the far end stood the woman.
Completely still.
Her hair covered most of her face. Her arms hung loosely by her sides. For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Toshi frowned. "What's this supposed to be?"
He was about to scroll—
The woman moved.
Slowly.
Not her body.
Just her head.
Tilting.
A little too far.
A little too unnatural.
Toshi's finger paused mid-swipe.
The movement was… wrong.
Not like acting. Not like edited horror clips. It felt stiff, delayed—like something pretending to be human.
Then—
She smiled.
Not wide.
Not exaggerated.
Just enough.
But it didn't reach her eyes.
The video glitched.
For a split second, the screen distorted—
And she was closer.
Much closer.
Toshi blinked.
The video ended.
He stared at the screen for a moment longer than he should have.
"…Weird."
He let out a small breath, forcing a scoff. "People really watch this stuff?"
Still, something about it lingered.
Not fear.
Just discomfort.
A quiet kind of unease that sat in his chest without explanation.
By the time he got home, it was already dark.
His mother called from the kitchen, "You're late again."
"Stayed by the river," he replied, slipping off his shoes.
"You'll catch a cold doing that every day."
"I'm fine."
Dinner was normal. Conversations were small. His father talked about work, his mother about groceries. Toshi nodded where needed, barely paying attention.
But his mind drifted.
Back to the video.
That head tilt.
That unnatural stillness.
He shook his head slightly. "It's just a video."
Nothing more.
Later that night, he lay in bed, phone in hand.
He tried to find the video again.
It wasn't there.
No history. No trace.
"Did I even like it?" he muttered, scrolling through his watch history.
Nothing.
A faint irritation replaced the unease. "Probably removed."
He locked his phone and placed it beside him.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Even the usual night sounds—the distant traffic, the occasional barking dog—felt… absent.
Toshi turned to his side, pulling the blanket slightly higher.
"Whatever."
He closed his eyes.
Sleep came slowly.
And when it did
It didn't feel normal.
Somewhere deep in his fading awareness…
A thought surfaced.
Not his own.
Not clear.
Just a feeling.
Like something had noticed him.
And far away
In a place he couldn't see
Something moved.