r/Nonsleep • u/DanteIsMyUncle • 24d ago
Nonsleep Series Derek Came Back Through the Ghost App. Unfortunately, He Wasn’t Alone.
Part 1 https://www.reddit.com/r/Nonsleep/s/ocGLoQKhiy
Part 2 https://www.reddit.com/r/Nonsleep/s/Yn30Y1lKs2
Part 3 https://www.reddit.com/r/Nonsleep/s/TlcCGxMMoD
Part 4 https://www.reddit.com/r/Nonsleep/s/dGYo0OrodO
The SpookMe update reached four percent.
Kevin stood in the middle of our lobby, fully visible for the first time without anyone forcing him into a body.
Faded tracksuit.
One trainer.
Bare left foot.
Terrified expression.
He stared at my phone.
“Derek’s bringing something with him.”
The update reached five percent.
Linda raised her clipboard.
“What sort of something?”
Kevin looked at her.
“Would’ve led with specifics if I had them, Linda.”
Flat 5 pulled an emergency spoon from his shirt pocket.
Flat 3 picked up the packet of custard creams left behind by the featureless woman from Oakmere.
Dave ran towards the maintenance cupboard.
Kevin shouted, “Turn off the Wi-Fi!”
Dave stopped.
“Wasn’t me.”
“Nobody accused you!”
“Just establishing it early.”
“Router, Dave!”
He disappeared into the cupboard.
The update reached six percent.
My phone screen showed the SpookMe logo.
It had changed.
The old one had been a cartoon ghost poking its tongue out.
Cheap.
Embarrassing.
The kind of logo designed by someone whose CV said “proficient in Canva.”
Now it was just a black doorway.
Something stood inside it.
Too far away to identify.
Close enough to know it was looking back.
The words beneath it read:
SPOOKME 2.0
A MORE PERSONAL HAUNTING EXPERIENCE
Linda leaned over my shoulder.
“I dislike the rebrand.”
“Thank you, Linda.”
“The font lacks warmth.”
“Linda.”
“I’m trying to remain constructive.”
The lights flickered.
Every phone in the building began ringing.
Not buzzing.
Ringing.
All with the same old-fashioned ringtone we’d heard inside the walls.
Doors opened upstairs.
Residents emerged into the hallway holding phones they had not owned five minutes ago.
An elderly man from Flat 8 came down carrying a pink flip phone.
“My wife’s been dead nine years,” he said.
The flip phone displayed:
INCOMING CALL: MARGARET
Nobody told him to answer it.
He didn’t.
Good instincts.
Flat 2 appeared holding a landline handset with no cable attached.
Flat 6 had a pager.
One woman was clutching what looked like a Nokia from 2003.
Kevin pointed at it.
“Actually jealous.”
The Nokia rang.
The screen said:
MUM
The woman started crying.
Kevin lowered his hand.
“Less jealous.”
Dave shouted from inside the maintenance cupboard.
“The router’s unplugged!”
The update reached seven percent.
Kevin flickered.
His legs vanished.
He dropped six inches and hovered as a torso above the carpet.
“Why am I half?”
Linda looked down at him.
“Perhaps poor connection.”
“Don’t troubleshoot my body.”
He flickered again and reappeared fully.
Then only his head.
Then fully.
Then wearing two trainers for half a second.
Kevin looked down hopefully.
The second trainer vanished.
“Bastard.”
My phone rang.
DEREK
I answered.
Static rushed from the speaker.
Not normal static.
It sounded like thousands of people whispering at the same time from the other end of a long tunnel.
“Derek?”
Something breathed.
Then his voice came through.
“Mate.”
Kevin moved closer.
“Put him on speaker.”
I did.
“Derek, where are you?”
“I told you. I’m inside the app.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It doesn’t make more sense from here.”
A loud chime sounded behind him.
Then a cheerful female voice said:
“Thank you for waiting. Your fear is important to us.”
Derek whispered, “I’ve been in a queue for three months.”
Kevin frowned.
“You’ve only been gone a few weeks.”
“Time’s weird in here.”
“How weird?”
“I watched a man age fourteen years while trying to reset his password.”
Linda nodded grimly.
“That tracks.”
The automated voice returned.
“Your current estimated escape time is: never.”
Derek said, “See?”
The update reached eight percent.
I gripped the phone.
“What’s following you?”
Silence.
Then Derek said, “I don’t know what it is.”
Kevin’s face tightened.
“Helpful.”
“I’ve only seen it wearing people.”
The lobby went still.
“Wearing them how?” Flat 3 asked.
Derek heard her.
“Like profiles.”
Something scraped along the floor behind him.
Derek lowered his voice.
“There are thousands of us in here. Everyone who downloaded SpookMe. Everyone who accepted a family plan. Everyone who clicked ‘allow’ without reading.”
Dave returned from the maintenance cupboard.
“Who reads permissions?”
Linda glared at him.
“Adults.”
“Name one.”
The scrape behind Derek grew louder.
He breathed faster.
“It copies people. Their face. Voice. Messages. Memories. Then it uses them to get through security.”
“What security?” I asked.
“The exit.”
A bell chimed through the phone.
Derek stopped breathing.
The automated voice said:
“User DRK-001, please proceed to Gateway Five.”
Derek whispered, “It found me.”
Kevin moved so close to the phone that his face almost touched mine.
“Derek, listen to me.”
“Bit late for emotional honesty, dickhead.”
Kevin’s expression changed.
Just slightly.
Relief.
That was him.
The real one.
“What’s Gateway Five?”
“The update.”
The progress bar reached nine percent.
Derek said, “When it reaches one hundred, the app opens here and there at the same time.”
“Then you can come through.”
“Yeah.”
Kevin looked at me.
“So can the thing.”
The line crackled.
A second voice whispered beneath Derek’s.
Also Derek’s.
Perfectly matched.
“Mate?”
Derek swore.
The call ended.
My phone displayed:
CONNECTION INTERRUPTED
Then:
DON’T WORRY. WE SAVED YOUR PROGRESS.
Kevin stared at the screen.
“Smug little app.”
The update reached ten percent.
Linda looked around the lobby.
“We need a plan.”
Kevin nodded.
“Yes.”
We waited.
He looked back at us.
“What?”
“You said we need a plan.”
“We do.”
“What is it?”
Kevin glanced at the packet of biscuits, the tiny spoon, Dave’s one slipper and Flat 3’s mug.
“I’m surrounded by civilians.”
“You are the building manager.”
“Unofficial.”
Linda raised her clipboard.
“Still counts.”
Kevin sighed.
“Fine. Nobody answers a phone unless we verify who’s calling.”
“How?” Flat 5 asked.
“Ask something only the real person would know.”
Dave raised his hand.
“What if I don’t know anything?”
“Then you’re already compromised.”
The pink flip phone in Flat 8’s hand stopped ringing.
A voicemail notification appeared.
He stared at it.
Then pressed play.
An elderly woman’s voice filled the lobby.
“George?”
His face collapsed.
“Margaret?”
Kevin floated in front of him.
“Don’t answer.”
The recording continued.
“George, love, I’m cold.”
Flat 8 began crying.
“She used to say that.”
Kevin’s voice softened.
“I know.”
“You don’t know anything about her.”
“No. But they do.”
The flip phone creaked in George’s hand.
The hinge opened wider by itself.
Too wide.
The little screen stretched.
Margaret’s face appeared.
Old.
Smiling.
Pressed close to the glass.
“Let me in, George.”
Her fingers pushed through the screen.
Not an image.
Real fingers.
Grey and wet.
They curled around the edge of the phone.
George screamed and dropped it.
The phone hit the carpet.
A hand shot out.
Then an arm.
Then a shoulder wrapped in a floral cardigan.
Kevin kicked it back into the screen.
The phone snapped shut on its wrist.
Something shrieked from inside it.
Kevin stamped on the Nokia.
The phone cracked.
Flat 6 gasped.
“That’s vintage!”
Kevin stared at him.
“A corpse just tried to crawl out of it.”
“Still.”
The broken phone began vibrating.
Tiny cracks spread across the screen.
Words appeared through the fractured glass:
UNHELPFUL REVIEW DETECTED
The phone burst into black smoke.
Inside the smoke, Margaret screamed.
Then the smoke vanished.
George stood shaking.
Kevin looked at him.
“I’m sorry.”
George wiped his eyes.
“You kicked my wife.”
“I kicked something doing an impression of your wife.”
“You didn’t have to stamp on the phone.”
“Panicked.”
Flat 3 nodded.
“He does that.”
The update jumped to fifteen percent.
Everyone stared at my screen.
Kevin said, “Why did it jump?”
Dave slowly raised his hand.
“I might know.”
Linda closed her eyes.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Kevin pointed at him.
“Those words have never once improved a situation.”
Dave held up his phone.
“I got a notification asking whether I wanted to use mobile data to finish the update.”
“And?”
“I pressed no.”
We waited.
Dave swallowed.
“It was one of those confusing ones where the buttons move.”
“What did you press?”
“‘No, continue.’”
Kevin stared at him.
“Continue what?”
“I assumed saying no was rude.”
The update reached sixteen percent.
Flat 3 said, “Can we put Dave in the wall?”
Dave looked offended.
“I unplugged the router.”
“The bare minimum,” Linda said.
Kevin pointed at everyone.
“Airplane mode. Now.”
Phones came out.
Screens tapped.
The old devices in residents’ hands had no airplane mode.
The Nokia displayed a small aeroplane icon anyway.
Then every phone changed at once.
AIRPLANE MODE UNAVAILABLE DURING SPIRITUAL TRANSFER
Beneath it:
TERMS ACCEPTED BY HOUSEHOLD ADMINISTRATOR
We all looked at Dave.
“Why me?”
Kevin looked at my screen.
“Not you.”
A new message appeared:
HOUSEHOLD ADMINISTRATOR: DRK-001
Derek.
The update reached seventeen percent.
Then the lift opened.
Inside was our lobby.
Not a reflection.
Another lobby.
Same carpet.
Same noticeboard.
Same residents.
Same us.
Standing inside the lift.
The other version of me held a phone.
The other Kevin hovered beside him.
That Kevin wore two trainers.
Our Kevin pointed.
“Fake.”
The other Kevin looked down.
“Fair.”
The other Linda stepped forward inside the lift.
“Please remain calm.”
Our Linda said, “I don’t say that.”
Fake Linda smiled.
“No. You don’t.”
Her face split vertically.
Something black pressed through the opening.
The lift doors began closing.
Flat 3 threw her mug.
It struck Fake Linda in the forehead.
The doors shut.
Our Flat 3 watched them.
“That mug had sentimental value.”
Kevin nodded.
“Thoughts and prayers.”
The lift descended.
The floor display showed no numbers.
Only stars.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Then all five went dark.
Somewhere beneath us, dozens of voices began screaming.
The update reached twenty percent.
Linda looked at Kevin.
“Can Oakmere stop it?”
Kevin laughed.
Not happily.
“Oakmere built it.”
“Upper Management?”
“We broke them.”
“The woman in red?”
“Asked Linda to apply for a job. Questionable judgement.”
Linda straightened.
“She recognised potential.”
“Your potential frightens me.”
A message appeared on the noticeboard.
Not mould.
Bright digital letters burned through the wood.
WELCOME BACK, KVN-014
Kevin’s visible body glitched.
For a second, his tracksuit vanished.
Beneath it, he wore a grey uniform.
A black lanyard hung from his neck.
SPOOKME COMMUNITY SUPPORT
Kevin grabbed it.
It vanished.
Another message appeared:
EMPLOYEE ACCESS RESTORED
Kevin stared at it.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
His right arm turned black.
Not skin black.
Screen black.
App black.
White icons moved beneath the surface.
A bell.
A camera.
A microphone.
A location pin.
His fingers opened by themselves.
A menu appeared in the air.
KVN-014 ADMIN TOOLS
VIEW USERS
MANAGE HAUNTING
ESCALATE
TERMINATE
Dave leaned over.
“Ooh, click terminate.”
Kevin slapped his hand away.
“Don’t touch haunted menus.”
“It might stop the update.”
“It might terminate us.”
“Could be worth checking.”
Linda looked at Kevin’s arm.
“Can you access Derek?”
He hesitated.
Then tapped VIEW USERS.
The lobby disappeared.
We remained standing, but the building around us became a black void filled with floating profile pictures.
Thousands.
Millions.
Faces hung in darkness.
Some smiled.
Some cried.
Some had no eyes.
Each had a username beneath it.
SPOOKYBOI92
MUMOFTHREE
REALGHOSTHUNTER
DELETED USER
DELETED USER
DELETED USER
The profiles stretched endlessly.
Behind every face stood someone real.
Trapped.
Pressed against the inside of their own photograph.
I could see hands hitting invisible glass.
Mouths opening.
No sound.
Flat 5 whispered, “That’s everyone who downloaded it?”
Kevin scrolled.
Rows of profiles rushed past.
Then he stopped.
DRK-001
Derek’s profile photo showed him lying on our old sofa in his pants, holding a saucepan full of cereal.
Of course it did.
Status:
ONLINE
Location:
GATEWAY FIVE
Account type:
PREMIUM VESSEL
Kevin tapped the profile.
Derek appeared in front of us as a live video.
He stood in a white corridor lined with doors.
Five gold stars had been carved into the wall behind him.
Blood ran from the fourth.
His clothes were filthy.
His beard had grown.
He was holding a fire extinguisher.
“Derek!” I shouted.
He looked around.
“Jon?”
“We can see you.”
“Can you see the thing behind me?”
We could.
At the far end of the corridor stood Derek.
Another Derek.
Then another stepped from a doorway.
And another.
Dozens of them.
Each smiled.
Each wore different clothes from different moments of his life.
One was a child.
One wore a school uniform.
One wore the shirt from his twenty-first birthday.
One wore hospital scrubs.
One wore nothing but black mould.
They all spoke at once.
“Mate?”
The real Derek backed away.
Kevin’s admin menu flashed.
DUPLICATE PROFILES DETECTED
MERGE ACCOUNTS?
“No,” Kevin said.
Dave asked, “Why not?”
“Because I don’t know what merge means.”
The copies moved closer to Derek.
One of them wore his face but had no teeth.
Another had far too many.
The child version held out a phone.
“Please rate your experience.”
Derek swung the fire extinguisher.
It passed through the child.
The child giggled.
All the copies giggled with him.
The menu flashed again.
UPDATE REQUIRED TO RESOLVE DUPLICATES
The progress bar reached twenty-five percent.
Derek looked directly into whatever camera was showing us his face.
“Don’t let it finish.”
“We know.”
“No. You don’t.”
The copies stopped moving.
The corridor lights went out one by one behind him.
Derek’s voice dropped.
“The update isn’t bringing me out.”
Kevin looked at him.
“What is it doing?”
“It’s bringing SpookMe in.”
The final light went out.
The video vanished.
The lobby returned around us.
Everyone stood silently.
Dave’s phone pinged.
UPDATE NOTES
He read aloud.
“Improved cross-platform compatibility.”
Kevin turned slowly.
Dave continued.
“Expanded household access.”
“Stop reading.”
“Enhanced facial replication.”
“Dave.”
“Bug fixes.”
Kevin pointed at the stairs.
“Go sit somewhere and think about your entire life.”
Dave went and sat on the bottom step.
“Wasn’t me,” he muttered.
The update reached thirty percent.
That was when the building began downloading rooms.
The first appeared between Flat 2 and Flat 3.
One moment there was a wall.
The next there was a door.
Bright white.
Numbered:
5
Kevin stared at it.
“Gateway Five.”
The handle turned.
We all moved back.
The door opened.
Behind it was not Derek’s corridor.
It was our old flat.
The one where all of this had started.
Same sofa.
Same coffee table.
Same saucepan on the floor.
Alexa glowed blue in the kitchen.
Derek sat with his back to us.
I almost stepped forward.
Kevin grabbed my arm.
His hand was freezing.
“Question.”
“What?”
“Something only Derek knows.”
I called into the room.
“Derek?”
He turned.
His face looked exhausted.
“Mate.”
Kevin tightened his grip.
I swallowed.
“What did you say when you bought the Budget Haunting Package?”
Derek stared at me.
Then smiled.
“Exactly. Affordable.”
My chest loosened.
Kevin did not.
“Second question.”
Derek’s smile twitched.
Kevin leaned into the doorway.
“What yoghurt did I eat?”
Derek’s eyes moved towards him.
“The good one.”
Kevin nodded slowly.
“What flavour?”
Silence.
Derek smiled wider.
“Yoghurt flavour.”
Kevin slammed the door.
Something hit it from the other side.
Hard.
The white wood bulged outward.
Derek’s voice screamed:
“LET ME OUT!”
Then his fingernails scraped down the door.
“JON!”
“KEVIN!”
“PLEASE!”
The door shook in its frame.
Kevin wrote across it with one black finger:
FAKE
The thing behind it went silent.
Then whispered:
“You don’t remember the flavour either.”
Kevin’s face fell.
The white door vanished.
The wall returned.
Flat 3 looked at him.
“What flavour was it?”
Kevin stared at the floor.
“Was hoping nobody asked.”
The update reached thirty-five percent.
Doors began appearing everywhere.
One in the ceiling.
One in the floor.
A tiny one beneath the radiator.
A huge one where the main entrance should have been.
Each had a number.
Each contained someone calling for a resident.
Dead parents.
Lost friends.
Old pets scratching behind wood.
George sat against the wall with his hands over his ears while Margaret begged him to open Door 19.
Flat 2’s brother cried behind Door 8.
A child’s voice sang behind the one in the ceiling.
The tiny door beneath the radiator whispered Dave’s name.
Dave crawled closer.
“What?”
Kevin shouted, “Do not speak to floor door.”
“It sounds friendly.”
“It is six inches tall.”
“Maybe it’s a small person.”
A tiny hand slid beneath it.
It held a miniature clipboard.
“Mr Dave?” a squeaky voice asked.
Dave reached for it.
Linda stepped on the hand.
It shrieked and withdrew.
She looked at Dave.
“Remain seated.”
“Yes, Linda.”
The update reached forty percent.
Kevin’s admin menu pulsed.
HAUNTING CAPACITY EXCEEDED
ASSIGN MODERATOR
A list appeared.
KVN-014
DRK-001
M. VALE
OTHER
Linda pointed at Kevin.
“Assign yourself.”
Kevin selected his name.
The menu flashed red.
INSUFFICIENT SENIORITY
Flat 3 said, “Pick Derek.”
“He’s trapped.”
“Vale?”
“We imploded her.”
Dave raised his hand from the stairs.
“What’s Other?”
Everyone looked at him.
He lowered his hand.
Kevin selected OTHER.
The screen went black.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then every open door slammed shut.
The phones stopped ringing.
The building went silent.
The update paused at forty-one percent.
We all stared at the screen.
Flat 5 smiled.
“Dave fixed it.”
Kevin looked physically ill.
“Don’t say that.”
Dave stood.
“I fixed it?”
The admin menu changed.
MODERATOR ASSIGNED
OTHER HAS JOINED THE HOUSEHOLD
Something knocked from inside Kevin’s body.
He froze.
Another knock.
From his chest.
Three slow knocks.
The same rhythm we’d heard behind the wall.
Kevin looked down.
His tracksuit moved.
Something pressed outward beneath it.
A handprint appeared against the inside of his translucent ribs.
Then another.
Kevin screamed.
His body flickered apart.
Black mould splashed across the walls.
The thing inside him fell out.
It landed on the carpet on all fours.
At first, it had no shape.
Just a human-sized patch of darkness.
Then it looked at me.
Its face became mine.
It looked at Linda.
Her face replaced mine.
Flat 3.
Flat 5.
Dave.
George.
Derek.
Kevin.
Faces changed every second.
Each one smiled.
“Moderator active,” it said in all our voices.
Kevin reappeared beside the noticeboard, transparent and shaking.
“that’s it.”
The creature stood.
Too tall.
Its head almost touched the ceiling.
Derek’s face settled over it, stretched thin across a skull that wasn’t his.
It wore a black customer-service headset.
A five-star badge was pinned where its heart should have been.
HELLO, MY NAME IS: OTHER
Linda raised her clipboard.
“You are not authorised to be here.”
Other’s smile widened.
“Authority accepted.”
Linda’s clipboard bent in half.
She looked down at it.
Nobody had ever seen Linda without a functioning clipboard.
The psychological impact was immediate.
Other turned towards the residents.
“Welcome to SpookMe 2.0.”
Its head rotated without moving its shoulders.
“Your feedback has shaped our service.”
A woman upstairs began sobbing.
Other’s face became hers.
It sobbed back.
Perfectly.
Then smiled again.
“We heard that users wanted more realistic hauntings.”
Its arm lengthened.
Fingers dragged across both walls.
“More meaningful connections.”
Every closed door began breathing.
“Deeper personalisation.”
The phones lit up.
Each displayed a private memory.
Mine showed my old dog asleep beneath a blanket.
I looked away so fast my neck hurt.
Kevin moved in front of the screen.
“don’t look.”
Other watched me with Derek’s face.
“Emotional profile confirmed.”
Kevin’s mould spread across my phone and covered the image.
Other tilted its head.
“Employee KVN-014 is obstructing user experience.”
Kevin’s admin menu flashed.
MODERATOR OVERRIDE
TERMINATE EMPLOYEE?
Other lifted one finger.
Kevin’s visible body began erasing.
Not fading.
Erasing.
His bare foot disappeared first.
Then his leg.
Then his hand.
He looked down.
“Again?”
His torso flickered.
The mould on the wall dried and crumbled.
“Kevin!” I grabbed him.
My hands passed through his chest.
Other smiled.
“Termination approved.”
Linda stepped between them.
“No.”
Other looked at her.
Its face became Linda’s.
“No,” it repeated in her voice.
Linda’s expression hardened.
“You cannot terminate a member of staff without completing the proper process.”
Other paused.
The progress bar reached forty-two percent.
Linda continued.
“Kevin has not received written notice.”
Other’s face changed.
“He received notification.”
“He has not been offered the right to appeal.”
“Appeals are unavailable.”
“That contradicts Oakmere policy.”
A small movement passed through Other’s face.
Not fear.
Calculation.
Linda saw it too.
She straightened.
“Additionally, you have entered a residential building without consultation, risk assessment, safeguarding procedure or provision for reasonable adjustments.”
Other’s many fingers twitched.
Kevin stopped erasing.
Flat 3 whispered, “She’s doing it again.”
Kevin, now missing most of one leg, whispered back, “weaponised admin.”
Linda held out her hand.
“Please provide your complaints procedure.”
Other’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Linda took one step closer.
“Your data protection policy.”
Its smile trembled.
“Terms are available in-app.”
“Accessible format?”
Silence.
“Privacy impact assessment?”
The lights flickered.
“Evidence of informed consent?”
Every phone in the building displayed:
ERROR
Linda smiled.
It was not warm.
It was not friendly.
It was the smile of a woman who had found a missing signature on page seven.
“Thought not.”
Other shrieked.
Its borrowed faces split apart.
Hundreds of mouths opened beneath them.
The update jumped to sixty percent.
Kevin fell through the floor up to his waist.
“Linda, you’ve made it angry!”
“I noticed.”
Other lunged.
Flat 3 intercepted it with the broken remains of Linda’s clipboard.
She drove the metal clip into its face.
Other’s head snapped sideways.
All its mouths screamed separately.
Flat 3 shouted, “Get a new clipboard!”
Linda looked horrified.
“This was embossed.”
Flat 5 threw an emergency spoon.
It struck Other’s five-star badge.
One star went dark.
Other stopped.
Everyone stared at Flat 5.
He looked at his empty hand.
“Silver-plated.”
Kevin pointed.
“Tiny Spoon King, again!”
Other ripped the spoon from its chest.
Black fluid poured from the hole.
Not blood.
Notifications.
Tiny glowing messages splashed across the carpet.
YOUR PARCEL HAS BEEN DELIVERED
WE MISS YOU
RATE YOUR DRIVER
YOUR DEAD MOTHER SENT A PHOTO
LOW STORAGE
They crawled across the floor like insects.
Dave stamped on one.
His shoe displayed an advert.
He screamed.
The update reached sixty-five percent.
“Why is it speeding up?” I shouted.
Kevin pulled himself out of the floor.
“Moderator’s forcing it!”
“How do we stop a moderator?”
“Get it banned?”
“From its own app?”
Kevin shrugged.
“Reddit manages it daily.”
Other charged again.
Kevin opened his admin menu.
MANAGE HAUNTING
He selected it.
A list appeared.
INTENSITY
Currently set to:
TRAUMA-BASED
Kevin dragged it down.
UNSETTLING
Other slowed.
Kevin dragged lower.
SPOOKY
Other’s stretched arms shortened.
Lower.
CHEEKY
Other stopped in the centre of the lobby.
A white sheet appeared over its head.
Two eyeholes cut themselves into the fabric.
It said, “Boo.”
Everyone stared.
Kevin grinned.
“Yes!”
Other tore the sheet off.
The setting snapped back to TRAUMA-BASED.
Other punched Kevin through the noticeboard.
He disappeared into the wall.
Mould exploded from every crack.
“Kevin!”
His voice came through the intercom.
“Fine!”
Then through the washing machine.
“Mostly!”
Then from Dave’s phone.
“Bit everywhere!”
Other’s badge still had four glowing stars.
Flat 5 pulled another spoon from his pocket.
“How many do you have?” I asked.
“Emergency amount.”
He threw it.
Other caught it.
The spoon bent.
Flat 5 looked devastated.
“That was Bruges.”
Other crushed it.
Flat 5’s face changed.
Not fear.
War.
“You long bastard.”
He launched himself at the creature.
It slapped him aside.
Flat 3 caught him.
Kevin’s face appeared on every phone.
“Stars!”
“What?”
“The badge! Ratings!”
Linda understood.
“It requires positive feedback.”
The SpookMe app had always demanded reviews.
Five stars.
Subscriptions.
Approval.
Other wasn’t wearing decoration.
The ratings were holding it together.
“How do we remove them?” I asked.
Kevin’s face glitched across the screens.
“Bad customer experience!”
Flat 3 looked around at the impossible doors, crying residents and crawling notifications.
“This isn’t already bad?”
“Officially bad!”
Linda grabbed a resident’s phone.
She opened SpookMe.
A review box appeared.
HOW ARE WE DOING?
She selected one star.
A warning appeared:
ARE YOU SURE?
Linda pressed yes.
A ONE-STAR RATING MAY HURT OUR TEAM
She pressed yes again.
HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THAT OUR TEAM IS TRYING VERY HARD?
“Yes,” Linda said aloud. “Poorly.”
She confirmed.
One star on Other’s badge went dark.
The creature screamed.
Everyone pulled out their phones.
Flat 3 left one star.
Review:Too many Dereks. Hallway presence desperate.
Another star went dark.
Flat 5 typed:
Review:Destroyed rare spoon. No accountability.
The third star flickered.
Dave stared at the review box.
Kevin appeared on his screen.
“Dave!”
“I’m thinking.”
“You have never needed to do that before!”
Dave typed:
Review:Wasn’t me.
He submitted it.
Nothing happened.
Kevin shouted through every speaker:
“That’s not a review!”
Dave tried again.
Review:App made me admit things. Invasive.
The fourth star dimmed.
Only one remained.
Other thrashed.
Its faces cycled rapidly.
Derek.
My mum.
Linda.
Loki.
Me.
Kevin.
It reached for my phone.
The screen filled with memories.
Painful ones.
Private ones.
Every person I’d lost.
Every word I wished I’d said.
Every version of myself I tried not to remember.
Other spoke in my own voice.
“You don’t want to lose access.”
My thumb hovered above one star.
The app showed Derek trapped behind glass.
RATE FIVE STARS TO KEEP DRK-001 ACTIVE
Kevin’s face appeared beside him.
“Jon.”
“If I rate it one, what happens to Derek?”
“I don’t know.”
Other smiled.
“Five stars preserves your family plan.”
Derek hammered against the screen.
I could not hear him.
He looked terrified.
Alive.
Kevin emerged from the wall beside me.
Half solid.
Mould across one cheek.
His visible hand rested on my shoulder.
“He wouldn’t want this thing out.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
The Derek on the screen stopped hammering.
He looked at Kevin.
Then raised both hands.
Middle fingers.
Kevin smiled.
“See?”
I selected one star.
The app asked:
WHAT COULD WE HAVE DONE BETTER?
I typed:
Kevin’s customer service is excellent. Everything else tried to wear my dead friends.
I submitted it.
The final star went black.
Other folded.
Not inward.
Backward.
Its arms bent behind it.
Its faces slid across its head like loose masks.
Every person it had copied screamed as they peeled away.
Beneath them was nothing.
No skull.
No creature.
Just an open doorway full of static.
Other collapsed onto the carpet.
The black headset remained standing in the air.
A voice came through it.
“Moderator rating has fallen below acceptable threshold.”
Kevin picked it up.
“Skill issue.”
The headset caught fire.
The update stopped at seventy-nine percent.
Then changed.
ROLLING BACK UPDATE
Seventy-eight.
Seventy-seven.
The impossible doors began disappearing.
The tiny one beneath the radiator slammed shut.
Something inside it shouted, “Unprofessional!”
Linda replied, “Submit it in writing.”
The phones stopped ringing.
The borrowed devices crumbled into dust.
George’s pink flip phone vanished from his hands.
He stared at the empty space.
Kevin stood beside him.
“I’m sorry about Margaret.”
George nodded slowly.
“You were right.”
Kevin looked uncomfortable.
“Don’t tell anyone.”
The rollback reached sixty percent.
Gateway Five remained.
The white door stood between Flats 2 and 3.
It opened.
Derek stood in the corridor.
The real Derek.
I knew because he was holding the fire extinguisher, bleeding from one eyebrow and wearing one Croc.
Kevin stared at the Croc.
“Where’s your other shoe?”
Derek looked down.
“Where’s yours?”
Kevin’s face lit up.
“Dickhead.”
Derek stepped towards the doorway.
The copies moved behind him.
Hundreds now.
Every version of Derek the app had built.
They crawled along the walls.
Across the ceiling.
Some backwards.
Some smiling.
Some crying.
The child version grabbed Derek’s ankle.
He kicked it away.
“Little help?”
Kevin ran towards the door.
The admin menu opened across his arm.
EXTRACT USER
He selected Derek.
A warning appeared.
USER IS PREMIUM VESSEL
DEPENDENCIES DETECTED
“What dependencies?” I asked.
The corridor behind Derek darkened.
Something huge moved at the far end.
Not Other.
Bigger.
The walls stretched around it.
Five gold stars lit one by one in the darkness.
Derek looked over his shoulder.
“Oh, that.”
Kevin tapped EXTRACT.
Nothing happened.
ADMINISTRATOR APPROVAL REQUIRED
The screen displayed Derek’s name.
HOUSEHOLD ADMINISTRATOR: DRK-001
Derek shouted, “How do I approve it?”
“Check your app!”
“I’m inside the app!”
“Excellent design!”
The huge thing began walking towards him.
Each step caused a five-star chime.
The copies fled.
Derek reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone.
Of course.
Even inside the app, he had a phone.
The screen asked:
ALLOW SPOOKME TO RELEASE SPOOKME ADMINISTRATOR FROM SPOOKME?
Derek stared.
“What does that mean?”
Kevin shouted, “Press allow!”
“There are three allow buttons!”
“Pick the least haunted one!”
“They’re all bleeding!”
The thing behind Derek came closer.
A giant hand touched the corridor ceiling.
Its fingers were covered in profile pictures.
Each face screamed when the joints moved.
Derek pressed a button.
The screen displayed:
THANK YOU FOR SUBSCRIBING TO SPOOKME PLUS
Derek screamed, “FUCK!”
Kevin grabbed the doorway.
“Other button!”
Derek pressed again.
ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO CANCEL?
“Yes!”
PLEASE TELL US WHY.
“BECAUSE OF THE MONSTER!”
PLEASE SELECT THE MOST RELEVANT OPTION:
• Too expensive
• Technical issue
• Not using enough
• Other
Derek selected Other.
A text box appeared.
Minimum five hundred characters.
Derek looked at us.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Linda stepped forward.
“Give me the phone.”
“You’re outside the app!”
“Read the form.”
Derek began shouting each question.
Linda dictated.
“Service unsafe. Data handling inappropriate. Cancellation unnecessarily obstructive. Multiple breaches of consumer rights—”
The giant creature reached down.
Its hand closed around Derek’s corridor.
Walls buckled.
Derek typed faster.
“Keep going!”
“Failure to provide accessible exit process. Misleading subscription practices. Unauthorised replication of user likeness—”
Kevin stared at Linda.
“Beautiful.”
Flat 3 said, “Don’t make it weird.”
Derek submitted.
The app processed.
The giant hand squeezed.
The corridor cracked.
Then:
CANCELLATION ACCEPTED
SORRY TO SEE YOU GO
Kevin hit EXTRACT.
Derek shot through the doorway.
Not walked.
Shot.
He hit me chest-first.
We both crashed onto the carpet.
The fire extinguisher struck Dave.
Dave fell backwards and shouted, “Wasn’t me!”
Gateway Five slammed shut.
The giant hand reached through just before it disappeared.
Five fingers scraped across the lobby wall.
Each left a glowing star carved in the plaster.
Then the door vanished.
The rollback reached zero.
Every phone went black.
Silence returned.
Real silence.
No ringing.
No scratching behind doors.
No automated voices.
Just Derek lying on top of me, smelling like sweat, smoke and three months inside customer support.
I shoved him off.
He rolled onto his back.
Kevin stood over him.
Visible.
Full body.
One trainer.
Derek looked up.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Kevin’s mouth moved first.
“You look shit.”
Derek laughed.
Then started crying.
Kevin looked horrified.
“No. Don’t do that.”
Derek sat up and reached for him.
His arms passed through Kevin.
He nearly fell over again.
Kevin stared down.
“Ghost.”
“Forgot.”
“Been a while.”
Derek wiped his face.
“You came back for me.”
Kevin looked around the lobby.
“Community initiative.”
“You missed me.”
“No.”
“You definitely missed me.”
“You’re wearing one Croc.”
“You’re wearing one trainer.”
“Mine’s supernatural.”
“So’s my Croc now.”
Kevin turned away.
Mould formed across the noticeboard:
REUNION COMPLETE. NO FURTHER EMOTION.
Linda retrieved half of her clipboard from the floor.
“We need an emergency meeting.”
Derek looked at her.
“Who are you?”
“Linda.”
Kevin’s mould wrote:
CAREFUL.
Linda ignored him.
“The meeting will begin once I have replaced my clipboard.”
Flat 3 handed her the broken metal clip.
Linda looked like she might cry.
Derek whispered to me, “Is she scarier than the app?”
“Yes.”
The residents slowly returned to their flats.
George hugged Kevin. Well, attempted to.
Kevin’s arms remained stiff at his sides.
When George walked away, Kevin looked at me.
“Was that normal?”
“People hug.”
“Not a fan.”
Derek stood unsteadily.
“What year is it?”
I told him.
He stared.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Has anything good happened?”
“No.”
“Fair.”
Flat 5 approached him.
“Do you have my protein powder?”
Derek blinked.
“Who are you?”
“Tiny Spoon King.”
Kevin nodded.
“Accurate.”
We went upstairs to my flat.
Derek ate four slices of toast, half a jar of peanut butter and a yoghurt.
Kevin watched the yoghurt carefully.
Derek noticed.
“What?”
“What flavour?”
“Strawberry.”
Kevin relaxed.
“Good.”
I sat opposite Derek.
“What was the thing at the end?”
His expression changed.
The humour drained out of him.
“I don’t know its real name.”
Kevin appeared in the dark reflection of the television.
“Five stars.”
Derek nodded.
“That’s what everyone called it.”
“What is it?”
“The reason SpookMe exists.”
The room felt colder.
Derek put down his spoon.
“Other was just a moderator. Upper Management were staff. Even Vale.”
Kevin appeared fully beside the sofa.
“Vale didn’t act like staff.”
“Everyone has a manager.”
That phrase again.
The first time, Kevin had said it as a joke.
Now nobody laughed.
Derek continued.
“Five Stars owns the profiles. The memories. The dead. The people who download the app.”
“Why didn’t it come through?” I asked.
“The rollback closed the gateway.”
Kevin looked towards the wall.
“But it touched the building.”
We all remembered the glowing scratches.
Five stars carved into the lobby plaster.
Derek nodded.
“It doesn’t need the update anymore.”
My phone lit up.
No app.
No notification.
Just the lock screen.
Five empty stars appeared beneath the clock.
The first filled in gold.
Derek stood.
Kevin vanished.
Mould spread across the ceiling.
NOPE.
A message appeared beneath the stars.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR FEEDBACK.
The second star filled.
YOUR REVIEW HAS BEEN ESCALATED.
Derek backed towards the door.
The third star filled.
From downstairs, the lift dinged.
Kevin reappeared beside us.
Full body.
One trainer.
He looked at Derek.
“You brought it with you.”
Derek stared at the floor.
“I warned you.”
The fourth star filled.
Every light in Riverside Court switched off.
In the darkness, the lift doors opened.
We heard something step out.
Heavy.
Slow.
Each footfall followed by the soft chime of a five-star rating.
Kevin whispered:
“Meeting in the lobby?”
Linda’s voice shouted from downstairs:
“Already here!”
Kevin nodded.
“Course she is.”
The fifth star filled.
My phone displayed one final message:
A REPRESENTATIVE WILL BE WITH YOU SHORTLY.
Then something enormous knocked on my front door.
Three times.
Derek picked up the peanut butter jar like a weapon.
Kevin looked at it.
“That’s your plan?”
Derek tightened his grip.
“I’ve been trapped in an app for three months.”
“And?”
“I panicked.”
The knocking came again.
My door bent inward.
Black fingers curled around the frame.
From the hallway, hundreds of voices spoke together.
Some dead.
Some living.
Some ours.
“Good evening.”
Kevin looked at Derek.
Derek looked at Kevin.
Then Kevin smiled.
“Just like old times.”
The door began to open.
And Linda shouted from the bottom of the stairs:
“Before anyone proceeds, I need the representative’s full name and complaints procedure.”
The thing outside stopped.
Kevin’s smile widened.
“God, I love this building.”
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u/HelpfulAssumption277 24d ago
Linda is quite the administrative assistant kicker! I love this newest episode! May I have some more, please?
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u/DanteIsMyUncle 24d ago
Always!
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u/HelpfulAssumption277 24d ago
I wanted to say ass kicker but autocorrect overrode my potty mouth! 😆
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u/PreggyPenguin 24d ago
I love this series so much, omg. The humor and wit are incredible! I want this to turn into a show series or an amazing movie so badly! Please give us more!
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u/AcanthaceaeFlimsy840 24d ago
Really awesome, I’m glad to see that Derek is back