Person online asks about movie idea. They really like the idea a writer has about a kid that thinks there is a person trapped in their phone.
The person ends up meeting with the writer to flesh it out. As the two work through the story the writer is constantly getting text messages and going into another room where the person can hear whispering. Sounds like two people whispering.
They ask the writer if anybody else was home to which the writer replies “yes, my uncle”. He’s sick though so he has to stay in the other room.
Eventually the person asks to use the restroom and they’re directed down a hall past the room where they had been hearing another person whispering. They can see the writer feverishly texting so they take the opportunity to peek into the room.
It’s dark, there’s a bed on one side of the room and a skinny dark object in the opposite side of the room that the person can barely make out. Maybe somebody is in there.
They go to the bathroom and when they’re heading back towards the hall they no longer see the writer at the table they had been sitting at, but they can hear fingers feverishly tapping a phone somewhere else in the house.
Of course, they again take this opportunity to investigate the bedroom. They stick their head in and creak the door open just a bit more to see what’s inside. It’s very dark so they lean in a little more. They start to hear pounding somewhere in the house. Maybe the writer is fixing something? That’ll give them more time.
They reach for their phone to get some light and just as they do they hear a buzz somewhere in the room and a rustle in the bed. They immediately back up out of the room and quietly head back to meet the writer.
They call to them since they cannot be found. The writer shouts, “I’m up here!” The person looks up and sees the ceiling had been replaced by a giant sheet of glass and on the opposite side of the glass was the writer, now a giant.
The person stands frozen and slack-jawed staring up at the writer who begins pounding away at the ceiling with their thumbs. It’s so loud now.
The pounding stops and they hear a distant buzz from down the hall. Desperate, they call to whomever is in the room. “Hello?” They hear nothing but then their phone vibrates in their pocket.
They take it out, unlock it, hold it up to their face and see a new text from an unknown number. They open the text which reads, “it’s your turn now. come to the bedroom down the hall.”
“What the fuck?! What is going on?” the person says. “Make it stop! Take me to the hospital” they say, convinced they’d been drugged. The giant writer stares at the person with a calm, subtle smile like a child watching a frog in a terrarium.
They feel another vibration. “when you get here it’ll all make sense.” Unsure of what to do next they dial 9-1-1 and hold the phone to their ear only to hear silence. After multiple attempts they decide to go into the bedroom.
Slowly walking and always watching the giant writer they make their way towards the bedroom. Now the room is lit brightly and they can see a person laying in bed with their back turned to the door and the dark object on the other side of the room was an old camera on a tripod with a red light flashing.
“Who are you?? What do you want?? A million questions fly out of the person’s mouth. The pounding on the glass roof begins again drowning out anything the person is saying. The person rushes to the other side of the bed to meet the figure they had been spying on. What they see is kid about 8 years old with no hair on their head or eyebrows, and their eyes are closed. The pounding stops and they hear a buzz and see a light glow from under a blanket resting on top of the child’s body.
“What is happening?!” the person pleaded. The child finally speaks, “We’re making a movie. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“N-no. I just wanted to know some stories people had. I didn’t plan on making a movie. Is that what this is all about?”
Suddenly, buzzing. From all around the room. And the house. What sounds like thousands of phones buzzing all about them. The pounding commences once again. The noise is deafening. The person clenches their ears desperate for relief. “AHHH STOOOOP!”
Just then, silence. The kind of silence where you can hear your own heart beating. The person opens their eyes and they’re in their house sitting at the computer with half of a post on AskLemmy written asking about movie ideas.
They take a deep breath relieved that it had only been a dream. They delete the post and fold their laptop screen to meet the keyboard. They bend their neck back, eyes closed raising their face to the sky taking a moment to calm themselves. Then, a loud thump. Jolting awake their open eyes meet those of the writer staring down at them through a glass ceiling.
The person falls backwards in their chair and as they’re falling they can see a red dot flashing behind them. They scramble to their feet and begin sobbing. Harder than they’ve ever cried before. So hard it begins puddling beneath them. They feel the room tilting in different directions. Tears flowing like faucets. Pounding begins again. The person can feel their tears climbing to their ankles. Gusts of wind begin shooting through the room.
Suddenly blackness. Nothing is. Nothing will be and nothing ever was. “What a waste,” it thought.
Haha idk if it’s scary but def an idea dump before I fell asleep