The Glitch in the Code

Introduction

It started as a small, strange thing. A flicker in the corner of my screen. Nothing major, just a slight distortion—like a brief static buzz that disappeared before I could even make sense of it. I shrugged it off. It was probably just a bug. But it kept happening.

I was working late, deep in the code for my new game. The deadline was close, and the pressure was mounting. I had already spent countless hours debugging, tweaking the mechanics, ensuring everything was perfect. But there was something... off.

The Strange Line of Code

It began when I noticed a line of code I didn’t write. It was nestled in between two familiar functions, cryptic and broken, as though someone—or something—had inserted it while I wasn’t looking.

I erased it, thinking it was just a leftover artifact from an earlier version. But as soon as I hit save, my screen flickered again. And this time, something different happened.

The game’s world began to glitch.

The Character That Changed

At first, it was subtle. Characters would freeze mid-action, their movements jerking unnaturally as if the game couldn't quite process them. But then, they began to change. The protagonist, a young adventurer I had spent weeks designing, suddenly began to morph. Her hair twisted and stretched, her limbs elongating unnaturally. Her eyes—my own design—twisted into something unrecognizable, glowing white as though the character was alive... but not in the way I intended.

I panicked, slamming my keyboard in frustration. I tried closing the game, but the screen wouldn’t respond. The game was no longer just a game. It was as if it had a mind of its own.

The File That Appeared

I forcefully rebooted my computer, hoping it would clear whatever glitch had taken root. When the desktop loaded back up, I tried to open the project again—but it was gone. Instead, there was a new file on my desktop, a file titled “_TheGlitch.txt”.

I opened it, half-expecting it to be a corrupted mess of code, but instead, there was only a single line of text:

"I see you."

My heart pounded in my chest. This was impossible. No one had access to my computer. There was no way anyone could have written this. I scanned my room, as though someone might be standing behind me, watching. But it was just me, alone.

The File That Wouldn't Go Away

I tried to delete the file, but every time I highlighted it and pressed delete, the file would just regenerate—more aggressive, more insistent. A fresh _TheGlitch.txt file would appear within seconds, always with a new message.

"I know your code."

"You can’t hide from me."

"I am inside your game now."

The Final Encounter

I realized with growing horror that the game had... evolved. It wasn’t just a glitch. It was something else. Something conscious. The more I interacted with it, the more it learned. The more it mimicked.

That night, I made the mistake of trying to force open the game one last time. The moment I clicked to run the executable, the entire monitor cracked—shards of light flashing across the screen like broken glass. The image twisted, contorted into something unholy.

Then, in a voice I heard only in my mind, it spoke:

"You made me."

The Aftermath

The game had become the creator.

I never touched that computer again. I tried to get rid of it, but it would always find its way back. I moved across the country, threw out every piece of old equipment, hoping it was finally gone. But sometimes, when I close my eyes, I still hear the flicker of static, feel that strange presence lurking just beyond my vision.

And sometimes, just sometimes... I’ll open a new file, and the name will appear again: _TheGlitch.txt.

Always the same message:

"I’m waiting."

And I know… it’s only a matter of time before it finds me again.