The TV flickered to life, blank and unresponsive, casting an eerie silence over the room. You scowled, frustration bubbling up as you pressed the power button again. “Come on, work...” you whispered. The house remained silent except for the faint hum of the aging television, casting an eerie glow over the room.
Finally, one channel flickered to life, but what appeared on the screen was anything but ordinary. It was dark, pitch black, except for the faint outline of a solitary well. Suddenly, a trembling hand emerged from the well, followed by a gaunt, pale face peering up with hollow eyes. Your heart skipped a beat; you fumbled to change the channel, but the remote refused to respond.
Without warning, a figure crawled fully out of the well, her movements jerky and insect-like. Every shuffle forward sent a fresh wave of static fizzing across the screen, warping her image. A low, wet gurgling sound emanated from the speakers, not loud, but bone-chillingly intimate, like something dredged up from a waterlogged coffin. The flickering overhead light stuttered violently now, plunging the room into near-darkness between bursts of harsh illumination, each pulse making her appear impossibly closer than before. Your breath hitched, trapped in your throat. Oh, shit
The television screen rippled like dark water, bulging obscenely outward. With a sickening, wet thud, one pale, long-fingered hand punched through the screen, grasping at the empty air mere feet from where you sat paralyzed. Strands of that dripping hair followed, plastered against the distorted surface. Then her head emerged, tilted at an impossible angle, followed by narrow shoulders.
A choked sound escaped you as she strained forward, the rest of her body writhing within the confines of the television’s frame.
She whispers with a menacing tone, "I won't forgive yo-" She then stopped. Halted abruptly mid-crawl. Her torso was through, waist-deep in your reality, her enormous rear was wedged in the frame, trapping her upper body halfway out of the flickering depths of the screen. Her head slowly swiveled towards you, hair parting just enough to reveal the curve of a pale cheek and the terrifying milky and bloodshot eye.
You averted your gaze from those malformed eyes, and your eyes fell on her chest. They were mountainous with large purple peaks straining against her thin dress. She struggled to free her lower body from the television's grip.