The Forgotten Feed of Regret

It was a crisp autumn evening when the challenge made its rounds on social media. “Share your deepest regret,” it proclaimed. “Use #ForgottenFeed. Post it if you dare. Face the consequence if you don’t.” The initial video had shown a girl at an abandoned playground, her breath visible in the chilling air as she uttered her regret to the camera, eyes hauntingly bright. The footage ended with her blankly staring, mouth slightly ajar, as the ground beneath her seemed to darken, almost as if absorbing her words.

Elena had scrolled past the challenge half-heartedly, dismissing it as the latest in a long line of attention-seeking nonsense. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the tag clung to the edges of her mind. Growing up in the small coastal town of Hartspen, tales of legends and hauntings had shaped many of her friendships and fears. Even now, beyond the childish stories, the collective memory of the town seemed skittish, ever reliant on tradition and wariness of the unknown. Strangely, a challenge born of regret resonated with her, especially since she’d never fully come to terms with her own.

She had lost her best friend Mia in a car accident a year prior. The circumstances of it were trivial in her mind; a text message, a moment’s distraction, a life stolen away. Silence hung heavy in her heart, a constant reminder of her guilt. While other teenagers had brushed off the challenge, Elena felt pulled toward it, like a moth to flame.

That evening, as her mother settled into the living room with a cup of tea, Elena retreated to her bedroom. She had debated for days whether to participate or not, but something about the challenge gnawed at her. With her phone balanced precariously on a stack of books, she flicked the camera on and centred her regret into the lens. “I didn’t text her back,” she murmured, tears prickling at the back of her eyes. “I was too busy getting ready. If I’d just—”

Before she could finish, the video glitched, the screen flickering erratically. Elena glanced at her phone in confusion, but it had processed the upload. Just as she began to breathe again, a sudden chill enveloped the room. She tucked her legs beneath her, attempting to shake off the unsettling feeling. She planned to delete the post, but as her finger hovered over the delete button, a profound sense of dread stopped her. She hesitated, feeling an inexplicable pull towards the impending consequences.

The next day at school, whispers erupted in the halls. A boy named Sam had shared his #ForgottenFeed video, detailing a regret about dismissing his mother’s warnings about a dodgy friend—a post that earned him ridicule rather than empathy. The real shock came when he abruptly vanished from the school grounds later that very afternoon. No one had seen him leave, nor had he been found since.

As days turned into weeks, the air thickened with fear. Rumours fluttered from one group to another, but most treated the missing boy as simply another tragic tale destined for the town’s lore. Elena found it more difficult to play along, especially when she learned that another classmate, Jenna, also posted her regret—a tired admission of taking an opportunity for granted. She vanished the same night.

Word spread that those who participated in the challenge suffered a fate far worse than embarrassment. The townsfolk had put together a half-hearted search party, but there was a mutual understanding beneath the surface; no one wanted to say it aloud, but perhaps the #ForgottenFeed was doing something more sinister than merely extracting shadows of the past.

It wasn’t until a small group of friends gathered at the childcare centre, one of the abandoned sites from the video challenge, that Elena’s intrigue turned to terror. They leaned against the weathered walls, clutching cups of hot chocolate, reminiscing their childhood adventures. A feigned air of bravery played out as someone suggested they should “take on the challenge too,” a pitiful attempt to reclaim some control over the narrative.

Elena felt a pressure build in her chest—a need to voice not just her regret but her fears. “It’s not just a stupid game. Look what happened to Sam and Jenna. It’s dangerous.”

A girl named Rebecca laughed, but the sound was brittle, devoid of real amusement. “Oh, come off it. You’re too wound up. It’s just a myth.”

But Elena recalled the twisted feeling she’d felt during her own video, the frost creeping into her veins, and shook her head fiercely. “It doesn’t matter. Maybe your regrets won’t get taken back, but don’t play with it.”

Later that evening, encapsulated by a rising tide of anxiety, Elena stood alone in her dimly lit room. Mia’s absence filled the air with desperation. She stared at the video still flickering on her account and within the whirlpool of apprehension within her, a voice implored. “What if you could bring her back?”

For an instance, the idea gnawed at her, tempting her with possibilities. She scrolled through the comments—a mixture of praise and scorn—before stumbling upon a cursed video link someone had posted under her video. A sense of dread coalesced within her.

Her heart raced as she contemplated clicking it, her fingers trembling over the unwarranted curiosity. The consequences? Turning up missing didn’t seem real, not for her—the only regret that mattered was expressing it aloud. Ignoring the growing feeling of foreboding, she pressed the link.

The footage rapidly flickered and twisted, and to her horror, she saw glimpse after glimpse of the forgotten souls of Hartspen, faces etched in desperation, mouths moving as though screaming in silence. The last image was Mia, brightness around her dimming with the pulse of regret. Elena covered her mouth, gasping silently as the weight of grief bore down on her.

Then, in a last attempt for relief, she filmed another video, her voice starting tremulous yet steadier. “I wish I hadn’t held onto my guilt.”

When she finished, a silence loomed over her. Not a blissful nothingness but the resounding absence of life filling her chest as she hit ‘upload.’ The screen flickered off suddenly and the quiet gripped the air terribly tight.

Days passed before the weight of loss materialised into something she could grasp, leaves turned crimson on the trees outside. Some pleaded for her to stop, while others gathered rumors of further disappearances. Elena’s phone buzzed with notifications, each taunting her, reminding her of the consequences. There were now three in total: kids gulped down, devoured by regrets spitting them back into the abyss.

One evening, she found herself at the parking lot where Mia had met her end nearly a year ago. The wind whispered past her ears, urging her to let go; yet, the guilt gripped harder. With the dim hum of her phone, an unsettling thought invaded her mind: could there be a way to save them all?

Desperation clawed at her decisions. She shared a final video under fading daylight, pleading for forgiveness from her peers, as Mia’s face flickered in her thoughts. But when the footage ended, something shifted within the; the screen turned black. She was left staring into the void.

Though the phone remained functional, her social media vanished. In the town, whispers turned to warnings—a collective vow erupted. Those who’d uploaded would suffer the effects of a darkness they could not comprehend or face.

Still, with each tale told about the #ForgottenFeed, Elena knew that perhaps the worst betrayers lay in the aftermath. As Mia’s face returned to haunt her late at night, in reflections, and a thousand silent moments, she understood the truth in the legends whispered through Hartspen—some remnants of regret could never truly be buried, forcing future souls to feed on the memories lain bare.

As autumn transitioned into deeper shadows, new faces curiously searched for the #ForgottenFeed challenge. In their playful recklessness, Elena smiled bitterly, her heart heavy with the agony of unshakable regret, knowing it would only perpetuate while the town, ignorant and merciless, mourned shadows that would never fade.