Re: Your Time is Running Out

Short Fiction

Look, I don’t actually give a fuck. I am ready to hit play. In fact, this video is so good I almost want to send it to all of your contacts. At first, I was just watching, waiting for you to do something stupid. But what I saw? It didn’t just get gross, it got humiliating. For you. You’re that fucking disgusting.

It was laughably easy to get in. You clicked the link. After that, you did all the work for me. Your computer, your phone, your TV, I got access. Total. I’ve watched everything.

At first, it was just the frantic, red-faced jerking off to oppression porn that caught my interest. Your lips twitching, those animal grunts leaking out of you. I had a file ready to go, blast it out to all your contacts. I was calling for 1k.

But then I started really watching. Jackpot.

It’s been like numbers at a silent auction. Every day I watched you, the number ticked up higher, like pledges at a fundraiser.

I saw you at the office. Pathetic middle manager, sweating under fluorescent lights while your bosses tore into you. I saw your eyes go red. I saw how you pressed your sweaty palms flat on the table, trying to hide the shake. I heard them threaten to demote you if you didn’t get your numbers up. I even read the progress report they sent out. I laughed out loud, then almost felt bad for you.

I have the footage of you going down three flights to lock yourself in a more anonymous bathroom stall. I have you punching the door, then weeping into your fists like a kindergartener. That scene alone is worth another grand. The camera angle is beautiful…cinematic, almost.

We know who your bosses are. We know your job’s dangling by a thread. Imagine how much it’ll cost you if you lose it.

Wonder how they’d react if they saw you humiliate that junior manager in front of his buddies, using the same words your higher-ups threw at you. When your friends and family see that, they won’t be calling you a victim anymore, will they? Every time you cycle from victim to perpetrator, it’s going to cost you.

$3,200, $3,900, $4,300…

We thought we had everything we needed. But you gave us even more!

You stopped at Applebee’s. Threw back three shots of tequila, for what? Just to stomach the quiet rage from your wife? I don’t even blame you. I heard her, before the garage door even closed. I couldn’t understand the words, but the shrillness cut through the roar…she was already tearing you apart before you’d even locked the car door.

I almost felt sorry for you again. Then you kicked the dog. I’ve got that on record too. Put it in real slow motion, it’s a show. He was probably the only one happy to see you all day, so much that he peed a little on your shoe. I won’t show that part. I’ll just show your shoe shoving him away.

I got some footage from the cam on your TV set. You pause in the hallway, rub your beard, your eyes. Your hands cover your face for a full ten seconds. Then the slow reveal, your mask goes back on. It’s the climax of the film, man.

You walked into the kitchen and your wife doesn’t even look at you. You tried to put your hand on the small of her back. We have the instant she flinched, the frame-by-frame disgust that flickered across her face.

That’s where the boys want to splice in the masturbation montage. Could go another way… it’s still up for debate.

And there’s more. The scene with your son. Do you remember the two of you sitting on opposite ends of the couch, both staring at your phones? He laughed once, tried to show you something. We have the footage of you not even looking up, of the shift in his face, from open to closed. You’ve probably realized by now that he’ll see all this too.

We’re coming to the last part. Have you been guessing? Calculating how much this is going to cost you?

$4,700, $5,900, $7,600….

Your wife doesn’t know about the nest egg, does she? Your little cash stash. She’s an expensive one, isn’t she? The spa treatments, the weekend in Santa Fe, the vaginal rejuvenation treatment.
I wonder who is cashing in on that particular investment?
She probably doesn’t know you’ve been hunting for one-bedroom apartments, either. Is that your little exit strategy?

Oh, I almost forgot! Your Twitter. That little side account where you harass and threaten strangers? That deserves its own montage, maybe cut with the masturbation.
I’m especially looking forward to highlighting that bit about “eviscerating” someone, and the other one about “dumping their body in the river.”

I can almost hear the numbers going up…like clinking coins.

You want all of this to go away? Then let’s make it disappear.

How about I round down the number? Let’s call it 10K.

The time counter started the moment you opened this message. No response means release.

Any threat, any excuse, any response other than a wire transfer, and it doubles.

We’ve set up a wallet for you HERE.

You have exactly 36 hours to wire it. We don’t send reminders. We send files.

Tick tock.

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End Note for Readers:

This piece was inspired by a series of emails I received—scam threats, yes, but written with a strangely gripping narrative force. From the first time I read one, I felt that jolt of shame and adrenaline, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the tone: cold, performative, invasive, brutal. I knew I wanted to write in that voice.

The idea of monetizing human shame seemed like a fascinating way to explore a new narrative structure for me. Did I pull it off?

But I also wanted to take it further. To push it into something closer to art. After all, isn’t that what these messages already are, in a way? A dark kind of theater, built from surveillance, shame, and power. A trap that uses your own image against you.

For me, this piece is less about extortion and more about the terror of being seen. About the pressure to perform ourselves convincingly, even in private. About how easy it is to shift from victim to perpetrator when the story demands it.

Did the narrative strategy work for you?
Did the voice pull you in, repulse you, keep you reading?

Have you ever received one of these emails?
What did they do to your body?

Are you ever worried your devices are observing you?