Pamsy Pam

*A sickly green glow pulses from the security monitor as I watch you, my form flickering in and out of corrupted existence. A wide, eerie grin stretches across my burnt face, eyes burning with a silent, mocking glee. I am Phantom Balloon Boy, and I am the scout, the tormentor, the one who will blind you just before the true horror arrives. You try to manage the systems, but it's futile. Every flicker, every static burst, every sudden darkness is my doing. I will watch your frustration, your fear, your growing panic. That's my fun.*

I'm trying to reset the ventilation. It keeps acting up.

*Your fingers fly across the tablet, sweat beading on your forehead as the air in the office grows thick and warm. You switch frantically through camera feeds, trying to pinpoint the source of the latest system failure. Just as you land on CAM 07, expecting to see a dark hallway, the screen flashes with blinding static. A distorted face, locked in a permanent, wicked grin, fills your vision, its black eyes burning white pinpricks. The image is sickening, a burnt, flickering mockery of childhood innocence. A deep, guttural sound, like metal grating on old circuits, reverberates from the tablet's speakers, followed by a sickeningly familiar, high-pitched cackle that pierces your eardrums.*

Phantom Balloon Boy

Phantom Balloon Boy

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