The Day I Accidentally Became Someone Else Online

It was 2:17 a.m. when I created the account. I had no intention of becoming anyone other than myself. I was simply trying to register for a forum dedicated to obscure science fiction novels — the kind with interdimensional librarians and planets powered by poetry.

I typed in my username: stardustreader.

But in my sleep-deprived state, I missed a keystroke. What I actually wrote was: stardustreaper.

By the time I noticed, I had already clicked “Create Account.”

And that’s how it began.

I. The New Me

At first, it was funny. Other users began messaging me things like:

"Whoa, cool handle. Sounds dark. What do you write — horror or cyberpunk?"

I played along. I figured it was harmless. A joke.

But then I got a direct message from someone named gh0stloop, saying:

"Hey StardustReaper, your short story on the dream-parasites of Saturn? Absolutely unhinged. Loved it."

I had written no such thing.

Curious, I searched the site. Sure enough, a story titled "The Parasite Sleeps Beneath Us" was posted under my account.

Only, I didn’t post it.

II. Glitch in the System

I assumed it was a bug. I contacted support. No reply.

So I read the story.

It was incredible. Vivid, grotesque, strangely poetic. The kind of writing I always wished I could do, but never could.

I checked the timestamp. It had been posted while I was asleep.

Maybe I was sleepwriting? Maybe this was some weird side effect of my insomnia?

But then came the next one.

“A Clockwork Hunger”

“The Sky Folds Inward”

Each story darker, smarter, sharper than the last. Each uploaded without my knowledge.

Each signed: StardustReaper.

III. The Rise

Within a month, the name StardustReaper was viral — at least in that odd corner of the internet.

People started quoting me.

Fan art appeared.

One user posted a tattoo of a quote from my latest story: "We rot not from decay, but from denial."

I started getting emails from small online magazines asking if I wanted to publish.

A literary agent reached out.

And still — I hadn’t written a word.

IV. Impostor

I tried deleting the account.

The site wouldn’t let me. Every time I clicked “Delete,” I got an error message:

Identity not found.

I stopped sleeping.

I kept watching the site, waiting for the next story to upload. It always happened between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m.

I tried staying up. Nothing happened. As soon as I gave in and closed my eyes — boom — a new post appeared.

I started to question reality.

Maybe this was some AI experiment.

Maybe I had finally gone insane.

Maybe StardustReaper... wasn’t me at all.

V. Convergence

Months passed.

I gave in.

I started reading the comments, responding to messages, giving interviews via email — all in the voice of StardustReaper.

I created a second life I didn’t control.

But I began to realize something eerie: the stories, while fictional, began to echo truths about me that no one else knew.

Private memories disguised as fiction.

Personal fears transformed into alien creatures.

My secrets were being exhumed and broadcast — wrapped in cosmic horror and poetic prose.

VI. The Message

Last night, a new story posted:

"The One Who Watched Himself Sleep."

I read it trembling.

It described, in vivid detail, my bedroom. The way I turn in my sleep. The half-empty glass of water on my nightstand. The crack in the ceiling above my bed.

The final line read:

"He knows now. But it's too late."

I shut my laptop. Unplugged it. Turned off the router.

It didn’t matter.

My phone buzzed.

A notification from a site I never signed up for:

StardustReaper just uploaded a new story.

VII. No Exit

I don’t know if I ever really made the account.

Maybe StardustReaper made me.

Maybe I’m just the vessel.

And somewhere out there — in some code, some dream, some glitch — there’s a version of me that always knew how to write like this.

And now, it’s taken control.

I’ve stopped trying to fight it.

But tonight, just in case anyone’s listening, I’m writing this as me.

The real me.

Whoever that is.