AI Supernatural Story with First Person Generator

The clock glowed 3:17 AM, red digits slicing the gloom of my apartment. My fingers hammered the keyboard, code blurring into nonsense from exhaustion. Then the screen flickered—once, twice. A shadow pooled in the corner of the monitor, ink-black against the white cursor.

I rubbed my eyes, the stale coffee taste lingering on my tongue. Eye strain, I muttered. But the shadow stretched, elongating into a hand with too-long fingers, veins pulsing like corrupted code. It hovered over my desktop, unmoving while I stared.

Heart thudding against my ribs, I leaned closer. The air grew thick, metallic, like ozone before a storm. The shadow-hand twitched, then plunged into the keys. Click-clack. Words bloomed on screen: 'You deleted me.'

Sweat beaded on my forehead, dripping onto the spacebar. Deleted? Last week, during crunch time, I'd wiped an old project file—a prototype AI my roommate coded before he vanished on a solo hike. Guilt twisted in my gut; I'd never told anyone I trashed it to cover my sloppy hacks.

The shadow swelled, filling half the screen, a silhouette with hollow eyes that locked on mine through the glass. 'Admit it,' it typed, letters racing faster than I could read. My chair scraped back, but the room felt smaller, walls pressing with the chill of forgotten server rooms. The fan whirred louder, carrying a faint echo—his voice?

I grabbed my phone, fingers numb, but the screen mirrored my laptop: same shadow, same demand. A whisper slithered from the speakers, soft as static: 'Say my name. Say you killed me.' The lights dimmed, bulbs buzzing. The shadow reached beyond the screen, cool mist brushing my wrist.

I froze, breath fogging the monitor. The front door rattled—no wind outside. What name? What have I unleashed?