#you can't just be like 'i fucked up we gotta go bald' and that's scary

[stagejakkal]

well i think the problem at the moment is that i feel like i might want a dick but also the dick would not want me 🤥

[sending-the-message]

I can't look at my boyfriend's Instagram any more by gregsgurl2001

A week ago, my boyfriend Greg went on holiday to Greece with his family. It was the first time we’d been apart from each other in the six months we’d been dating, and I was missing him terribly.

Before he left, we spent the evening together. I was tearful and needy, and when it came time for him to leave, I didn’t want him to go.

“Make sure you take lots of photos,” I said, sniffling my way through the request. “Keep me updated. I wanna see what a great time you’re having.”

Greg smiled. “Got a surprise for you. Check your Instagram.”

I pulled up the app on my phone. Sure enough, I’d been followed by a new account; the display picture was myself and Greg. I was kissing his cheek.

“Dude no way, you got an account!” I exclaimed with joy. I maybe loved the photo sharing app a little too much. And now Greg, the guy who sneered at selfies and ridiculed people for posting photos of their dinner, had joined me on the platform.

“Yeah, figured I might as well,” he said. “Can’t fight progress forever.”

And so as his vacation began, I found myself glued to his Instagram account. We talked, of course, by text and via email, but seeing him having fun meant a lot to me. There were photos from the airport, photos on the plane, photos when he touched down in Greece. A photo of Greg and his family - his mom, dad and sister Sarah gathered round as Greg held the phone out in front of them.

I made sure to Like them all, and comment on every one. A bunch of our friends had followed Greg too, and as usual with Instagram, he quickly accrued a number of strangers following him as well.

‘Miss my hot boy xxx’ I posted on a particularly stunning selfie of Greg striding topless across golden Greek sands.

‘Your mom is SO CUTE <3 <3 <3 xxx’ I squealed, at a picture of the two of them together.

‘Lol, look at that guy looming in the background xxx’ I remarked, on a picture of Greg, Sarah and their dad standing in a square in Athens.

That night, Greg was able to call me for the first time since he’d gotten to Greece. We engaged in the usual lovey dovey greetings, talked about how much we missed each other, that sort of thing. I listened as Greg told me about some of the legends he’d met in Greece; a few of older college kids who were on vacation from the States, an old French guy who claimed to be a famous author but wouldn’t say who, and Greek girl he and Sarah had met, Karis, who Sarah had become fast friends with.

“Make sure you post plenty of photos of them on Instagram!” I exclaimed enthusiastically.

Greg hesitated for a moment, as if thinking about something. “Uh, speaking of Instagram, I could not see that guy you were talking about,” he said, laughing nervously.

“Oh I dunno if he was a guy really,” I said. “Just some figure looming in a doorway right in the back. Not really a big deal.”

I could imagine Greg shrugging. “Babe. I am missing you so much,” he said. “You wanna know what I’m really missing about you?”

I giggled. I could guess. Greg proved me right, and we engaged in a bit of flirty talk for a while until finally he said “Oh shit, I gotta go” and that was that.

The next day I waited eagerly for eleven AM my time, the usual time that Greg got back to the hotel of a Greek evening and was able to access the wifi to upload his pics.

There were a number of beautiful landscapes, some tourist spots near Athens, a few picture of Greg’s new buddies. Then there was a picture of Greg, Sarah and a girl who was tagged as Karis.

I was so enamored with the cuteness of the photo that I almost didn’t notice the figure in the background of the photo. The selfie had been taken with the camera pointing down a street, and behind the trio stood a dark, shadowy figure who appeared to be approaching them, maybe thirty feet away. I squinted, confused. The lighting and shadows didn’t match up with how the figure appeared. It was as if they and only they were enshrouded in darkness. It was weird. A costume, maybe?

I commented on the post. ‘Omg there’s another dark figure. Watch out, baby! Can’t wait for you to be back and in my arms… and elsewhere ;) xxxxx’

An hour or so later, Greg replied to my comment. ‘Lol u and ur dark figures. U cant fool me. Cant wait to kiss u again baby ;;;;) x’

I began to suspect that Greg had doctored the photos somehow to tease me. I was the kind of girl who’d shriek and cling on to him if a movie got even a little scary.

I didn’t hear from Greg for another day. When his next batch of Instagram photos went up, a chill crept up my spine.

In all of the photos showing Greg, there was a dark shadowy figure. The locations changed, but the figure didn’t. The photos had been posted chronologically, and I could see that over the course of the day, the figure had gotten closer. I still couldn’t make out any details. It was as if the camera itself wasn’t able to process whoever - or whatever - this figure was.

I heard creaking outside my room and gooseflesh prickled my skin. From my phone’s screen, the figure seemed to glare out at me, peering over Greg’s shoulder, looking at me.

More creaking. My heart thundered. When my bedroom door swung open, I let out a scream, crawling backwards up my bed. My dad stood there looking bemused.

��Am I really that scary honey?” he asked. “Anyway, just thought I’d let you know mom and I are out for the evening.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Why was I so freaked out by what was probably a dumb joke by Greg? I snatched up my phone, resolute. The most recent photo showed Greg and Sarah with some guys. The figure was just behind the group, maybe a couple feet away at most.

‘Seriously whos that guy? Its freaking me out lol, it’s not funny. Call me when u can, love u bb xxxxx’

Shortly after, Greg replied to my comment. ‘Idk what youre talking about lol, its freaking ME out tho haha, i cant see anyone??? No phone reception text me plz xxxxx’

I texted Greg ‘hello’ and waited. Thirty minutes later, the message hadn’t even been read. I flicked back to Instagram, looking to study the photos again.

A new selfie had been uploaded. Greg and Sarah standing in a bustling street at night, lit by the warm glow from a nearby restaurant. They were both pulling dumb faces for the camera.

I didn’t see the figure at first, but when I noticed it, I let out a gasp and dropped my phone. My hands shaking, I retrieved the device and looked closer.

The figure was clearly right behind them now. It looked to be at least six feet tall, if not bigger. It towered over Greg and Sarah, framed directly between them. I wasn’t sure; it was so blurry, so out of focus, but it looked like the figure was raising an arm, reaching towards them…

I texted Greg again. He still hadn’t read my first message. ‘Please reply,’ I said.

Then, back to Instagram. And another photo. My blood ran cold.

Greg and Sarah were sitting with a lake at their back, moonlight dancing off the water. Both their eyes were open wide in surprise; not fear, not yet, but shock all the same.

I couldn’t see what their mouths were doing. They were both covered, each by a shadowy hand clamped over their jaws. I could just about make out the details of the figure’s fingers now.

This had to be a prank. It had to be. It had to be edited, or one of the college boys they’d met.

Tears stung my eyes. Fucking text me back, Greg!

I texted him yet again, imploring him to contact me. My messages remained unread.

A new photo had appeared on Instagram. It was the same bench, the same lake. But there was nobody in the photo. No indication of who was holding the camera. No sign of Greg and Sarah. Had Greg simply taken a photo of the lake? That meant he was okay, right?

I studied the photo. I froze suddenly, a cry forming in my throat. There, far into the lake, but unmistakable now I’d noticed it, stood the tall shadowy figure. It had its arms down by its sides, its hands hovering just above the surface of the water, palms flat, pointing downwards.

It was hard to see. So, so hard to see. But the more I looked, the more I was sure. The figure’s hands were resting on top of two heads. Two heads which it held under the water.

I began to panic. What should I do? Call the cops? Here, or in Greece? I had absolutely no idea how to reach any Greek authorities, and what if even after all this, Greg was playing a prank on me?

I texted him yet again. ‘This isnt funny. Text me back. Please. Im so scared right now. Please.’

30 seconds later, the receipts showed that my messages had been read. I let out the biggest sigh of relief I’ve ever given. I started laughing and crying at the same time. I could see Greg was typing.

‘Lol sorry’ he said. ‘Everything is fine. Just a prank.’

I couldn’t stop laughing, crying, seething with anger and gasping with relief.

‘Send me a selfie. Just for me,’ I said. ‘I need to see your face. I need to know you’re okay.’

‘You first ;)’ Greg replied. Even then, despite it all, Greg was pushing his luck as usual. I sighed, wiping my eyes. I had no energy to argue. Easier if I just did what he wanted. I snapped a quick picture of my face, my eyes wide and still gleaming wetly, then sent it to him.

I waited for his response, staring at my face on the screen. When I noticed it, the copper taste of adrenaline flooded my mouth. My breath caught in my throat.

There, reflected in my eyes, as if standing opposite me in my room, was a shadowy figure. My gaze flicked up to the wall, heart pounding. Nobody, of course. I was alone. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

My phone vibrated in my hand. I looked down, and I screamed, and I don’t think I stopped screaming for a full five minutes.

The photo had been taken underwater, somehow. In it, Greg and Sarah were suspended there, hair floating loosely in the water. Their eyes were open, unseeing, mouths hanging slack.

Between them floated the figure. But it wasn’t a shadow now. It was bald, its skin waxy and smooth even underwater. Wide yellow eyes with pinpoint irises stared back at me over a nub of a nose. A thin, elongated mouth was stretched out into a half smile. One bony finger, ending in a sharp talon, was pressed against its lips in a ‘sssshhhh’ gesture.

I haven’t forgotten the terror of what happened next to this day. In the photo, the still photo on my screen, the creature blinked at me. Our eyes met, separated by distance and technology. It lowered its finger from its mouth, blinked again, smiled wider, pursed its lips at me in a strange grimace, then with one graceful motion, turned and swum away, leaving the floating bodies of Greg and Sarah bobbing in their underwater graves.

Greg and Sarah were found the next day on the bank of the lake, drowned. Mom and Dad discovered it from Greg’s parents and broke the news to me gently, but I already knew. Of course I knew.

The photo in my text messages is just a blur, now. You can’t see Greg, Sarah or anyone. And Greg’s Instagram, well, it’s gone entirely. Like it was never there.

But when I look at the selfie I took for Greg, well, that’s still there. And every time I look, it’s changed a little bit. Just a bit, but a change nonetheless. You see, with each passing hour, the figure reflected in my eyes gets closer.

I looked just now. He’s nearly reached me. I can see his wide yellow eyes reflected in mine.

Maybe if I don’t look again, I’ll be okay.

What else can I do?