The serpent's jaws snapped shut.
Plastic and metal crunched like brittle bones as the Goblin Pro disappeared into darkness.
And then—
the world held its breath.
---
A heartbeat stretched into eternity.
The forest dimmed. Shadows pooled thick as tar. Even the fireflies froze, caught mid-flight, wings suspended in crystal air.
I could see everything.
Every grain of dirt lifting with the serpent's exhale.
Every tiny tremor in the witch's pale hand as she lifted her staff.
The reflection of that blinking red light inside the serpent's eye.
Beep.
The sound was soft, muffled, as though I stood at the bottom of the ocean.
Beep. Beep.
Faster. Louder. Stuttering like a heartbeat ready to tear itself apart.
The serpent blinked.
Its throat convulsed.
And then—
---
BOOOOOOM.
The world tore itself open.
The serpent's head ceased to exist in a single violent heartbeat.
Heat erupted outward in concentric circles, a 360° crown of fire and force that swallowed the clearing.
Slow motion turned horror into artwork.
Scales launched skyward like black diamonds, spinning, catching the firelight before vanishing into smoke.
Fangs split off, whistling like ivory arrows.
The air rippled, bending trees into grotesque bows before snapping them back into jagged ruins.
Blood—thick, molten, dark—burst into the air in spirals, painting the night in crimson arcs that shimmered under the flames.
For a moment, the explosion resembled fireworks—an obscene festival of gore that lit the sky.
The serpent's body, robbed of its head, convulsed.
Its massive tail smashed the earth like a warhammer, flattening tree stumps, scattering soil. It writhed, blind, furious, collapsing in waves until finally the smoking half-body stilled, twitching in spasms that sent dust rising in clouds.
The forest was no more.
In its place: a crater, glowing embers, the skeletal remains of trees burning orange in the inferno.
---
And then—nothing.
The sound cut out as if the world itself muted.
No breath.
No scream.
Just a ringing in my ears and the sight of flames dancing like spirits around us.
I turned slowly, each motion dragging like syrup.
The witch's hair floated around her, black silk backlit by fire. Her lips moved, but her voice was swallowed by the silence.
I blinked.
And the world snapped back.
The roar of flames.
The crackle of burning bark.
The hiss of serpent blood steaming against scorched stone.
The forest returned, alive and deafening.
---
(Flashback)
The moment replayed itself in my head with cruel clarity.
My hand lifting the Goblin Pro.
Its plastic shell light, almost laughably cheap, as if it wasn't worth the price of the screw that held it together.
The way the moonlight skimmed its cracked lens as I let go.
The arc.
Perfect, inevitable, almost graceful.
Straight into the serpent's maw.
The instant its throat closed around it, the stream died.
Viewers left staring into sudden black.
Their last sight: my hand, the serpent's fangs, and the doomed little camera.
---
📱 Viewer One – The College Kid
In his dorm room, headphones on, he screamed as the feed went black. His soda can tipped, fizz exploding across his keyboard. The laptop sparked once, twice—dead. His roommate opened the door to see him holding the corpse of his laptop like a widow at a funeral.
📱 Viewer Two – The Bed Watcher
She lay curled in blankets, phone hovering above her face. When the jump-scare hit, she shrieked and dropped it. It smacked her nose, bounced once, and vanished into her pillow fort. She groaned, clutching her face, eyes watering—half from pain, half from laughing at herself.
📱 Viewer Three – The Old Coffee Man
In a recliner, mug steaming, he leaned too far back when the boom hit. The chair tipped. Coffee arced in slow motion, baptizing him from scalp to socks. His wife entered just in time to see him sitting in a puddle, hair dripping like seaweed, muttering curses.
📱 Viewer Four – The Ramen Guy
Slurping mid-noodle, he inhaled at the worst possible second. The explosion hit—
and ramen shot out his nose like a party trick. He coughed, wheezed, pounded his chest, and collapsed laughing while tears streamed down his face. His chat exploded with screenshots.
📱 Viewer Five – The Restreamer
Streaming to his own audience, headphones blaring, he shrieked and flung them across the room. His cat leapt like a missile, taking his entire setup with it. His chat spammed "LMAOOOO," "F," and "best stream ever" while his camera rolled sideways, catching only his panicked feet.
In thousands of homes, offices, beds, cafés—the same stunned silence followed by chaos.
Every watcher united by one thought:
Did that cheap camera just EXPLODE?!
---
Back in the forest, ash drifted like black snow.
Through the haze, something gleamed faintly in the dirt.
Not plastic shards.
Not twisted wires.
Something whole.
I stumbled forward, chest burning with every breath, until I reached it.
A memory card.
Unscathed. Perfect.
Cool and heavy against my skin as I lifted it.
16MB.
The letters glimmered faintly, etched deeper than they had any right to be.
It weighed wrong.
Not like plastic. Not like silicon.
Like steel. Like a key carved from another world.
The witch's voice was hoarse, trembling.
"That card… it shouldn't exist here."
I curled my fist around it, the heat of the blast still trembling in my veins.
"No," I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.
"It doesn't."
For the first time since all this began, I wasn't afraid.
I knew now.
The camera was nothing.
The Goblin Pro had been a scam.
But this card—this impossible, endless card—
It was the true weapon.
The true witness.
The true curse.
And it had chosen to stay with me.