The Final Countdown

Heather didn't believe in the supernatural. Ghosts, spirits, curses—those were all things for horror movies. But the night she downloaded the DeathClock app, that belief shattered like fragile glass.

It had started with a text from her friend Sarah:

“OMG you’ve got to check out this freaky app! It tells you when you’re gonna die—like, to the second. Creepy, huh? Haha.”

Heather, bored and looking for something to kill time, clicked the link. It took her to a plain black page with a single, glowing red button:

Download.

The description was simple: Want to know when your time runs out? Find out now—just for fun.

Heather scoffed. “Sure, why not,” she muttered, tapping the button.

The download was quick. The icon—a skeletal clock with a blood-red face—appeared on her home screen, pulsing faintly. She tapped it open, and a request popped up:

Please input your name, date of birth, and upload a selfie.

Something about it made her hesitate. The air around her felt colder, like a draft had blown through the room. But Heather brushed it off. “Just a prank app,” she reminded herself. She filled in the details and hit submit.

The screen went black for a moment. Then, slowly, a countdown began to appear.

3 days, 12 hours, 46 minutes, 12 seconds.

Heather stared at the screen, her heart sinking into her stomach. It was too real, too precise. This is dumb. Just a joke, she thought. She snapped a picture of it and sent it to Sarah.

“Three days, huh? Guess I better make ‘em count.”

Sarah’s response came quickly:

“Haha, mine said like 60 years. It’s just for fun, don’t freak out.”

Heather laughed, but it sounded hollow. The app unsettled her. There was something wrong about it, something she couldn’t explain. She tried to delete it, but nothing happened. It wouldn’t disappear.

That night, Heather had the first nightmare.

She was standing in a corridor, dark and endless, the walls lined with mirrors. Each reflection showed her, but not quite. The Heather in the mirrors was distorted, her eyes too wide, her mouth twisted in a grotesque smile. As she walked deeper into the hall, the reflections began to change—her skin started peeling off, layer by layer, her hair falling out in clumps, her face warping into something unrecognizable. At the far end of the corridor, a figure waited.

It was tall, impossibly tall, its limbs unnaturally long and thin, its face hidden beneath a hood. It didn’t move, but she could feel its gaze, cold and hateful. As she neared it, a voice filled her head—no, it wasn’t a voice. It was a feeling, a presence so ancient and vile that it felt like her soul was being ripped apart just by standing near it.

She tried to turn, to run, but the mirrors exploded, shards of glass cutting into her flesh as the figure reached for her with fingers like knives.

She woke up screaming, her body drenched in sweat, the air around her icy cold. The clock beside her bed read 3:00 AM, but her phone, lying face up on her nightstand, was already buzzing.

2 days, 15 hours, 30 minutes.

She froze, staring at the numbers. They were ticking down, second by second. Her blood ran cold.

For the next day, the world seemed wrong. Everywhere she went, she felt watched. Shadows moved just beyond her sight, and her reflection in the mirror looked different—warped, like in her dream. Her eyes seemed sunken, her skin pale, and when she smiled, it looked forced, almost… unnatural.

By the time night fell, her paranoia had turned to fear. The air in her apartment felt alive. She could hear things—soft whispering from the corners of the room, the creak of the floorboards as though someone was pacing outside her bedroom door. Her phone buzzed incessantly, the numbers on the app ticking down faster now.

1 day, 6 hours, 14 minutes.

She tried everything to remove the app—resetting her phone, factory settings, even smashing the device. But no matter what she did, the app reappeared, the countdown continuing.

Then came the knocking.

It started softly, barely noticeable, like someone gently rapping their knuckles against the wall. But soon, it grew louder, more insistent. The walls seemed to vibrate with the force of it. It wasn’t coming from the door—it was coming from inside the walls.

Panicked, Heather called Sarah, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold the phone. The line rang, but no one picked up. Then, just as she was about to hang up, she heard it.

A whisper.

Not Sarah’s voice. Something else. Something that didn’t belong in this world.

“Heather…” The voice was low, guttural, dragging out her name like a caress.

She dropped the phone, her pulse thundering in her ears. The whispering didn’t stop. It filled the room now, coming from everywhere, from nowhere. Her name echoed off the walls, each whisper heavier, more malicious.

“Heather… your time is running out…”

Her phone lit up again.

14 hours, 30 minutes.

The air grew colder, so cold that her breath fogged in front of her. Her body felt like it was freezing from the inside out, a chill that clung to her bones.

Suddenly, the lights flickered. The shadows in the room thickened, coalescing in the corners, writhing as if they were alive. The whispers grew louder, more frenzied, overlapping until they became a deafening roar in her mind.

Then, the lights went out.

In the darkness, she heard the creak of a door opening slowly.

Her phone buzzed, illuminating the room with a sickly red glow.

6 hours, 12 minutes.

The door to her bedroom swung open, revealing nothing but pitch-black void beyond. No hallway. No walls. Just an endless, gaping darkness that seemed to pulse with hunger.

And from that void, the figure emerged.

It was the same one from her dream—tall, impossibly thin, its limbs too long, its movements too slow, too deliberate. It crawled forward, its fingers scraping across the floor with a sickening sound like nails on a chalkboard. Its face… she could see its face now.

It had no eyes. Just black pits where its eyes should have been. Its mouth was wide, too wide, stretching from ear to ear, filled with jagged, broken teeth that glistened in the dim light.

“Heather…” The voice that came from it was not human. It was a rasp, a sound that tore through her mind like claws.

Her phone buzzed again.

30 minutes.

The creature moved closer, its bones cracking and shifting with every step. Its hollow eye sockets stared into hers, and she felt her body go cold, her muscles locking in place. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t scream.

The creature reached out, its fingers brushing against her skin. It felt like ice, like death itself.

Her phone buzzed.

10 minutes.

The room began to close in, the walls warping, twisting, as though the reality around her was being pulled apart. The whispers grew into a cacophony of voices, screaming her name, demanding her soul.

“Heather… it’s time.”

The creature's mouth opened wide, impossibly wide, its teeth gleaming as it leaned in closer, so close she could smell the rot, the decay emanating from its breath.

The phone vibrated one last time.

00:00:00

The lights exploded, plunging everything into darkness. And in that darkness, Heather felt herself being pulled into the void, her body disintegrating, her soul devoured.

She was gone.

And the app waited for its next victim.