Horror Story About Parallel Worlds AI Generator

The laptop fan whirred like distant thunder in the empty apartment. Alex hunched over the keyboard, fingers flying through code for a silly AI story generator he'd built that night. 'Parallel worlds,' he typed into the prompt, smirking at the absurdity. Enter.

The screen flickered. Not text—no story. A live feed bloomed: his room, exact copy, but shadows stretched wrong under the desk lamp. A figure sat there, head down. His stomach knotted, cold sweat prickling his neck.

She looked up. Identical face, down to the stubble he hated. But her eyes—glassy, rimmed red—locked on his through the pixels. The air thickened, tasting metallic. Alex's breath caught; he leaned closer, heart thudding against ribs.

Her lips moved. No sound, but he read them: 'Help me.' Fingers trembling, he tapped the glass. It rippled like water. Her hand met his from inside, skin warm, too real. A shiver crawled up his spine—the room smelled wrong now, like damp earth after rain.

He yanked back. She didn't. Her nails scraped the screen, etching faint lines. Whispers leaked through: faint sobs, then laughter, jagged and off-key. The lamp buzzed, dimmed. In the corner of his eye, his shadow split—two shapes now, merging.

Alex slammed the laptop shut. Silence. But in the black lid's reflection, her face grinned back, closer than before. The door to the hall creaked open on its own.