The Ink AlgorithmPart-1: published ghost

The Ink Algorithm: The published ghost is terrifying story is happened with Rhea verma .

“Terrifyingly brilliant. Who is this Rhea Verma?”

I stared at the screen, numb.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, shaking. I hadn't opened my laptop in three weeks.

And yet…

The file was there, sitting neatly on my desktop:
📄 Ghosts_of_Paper_FINAL.docx — last modified 3:12 a.m. last night.

That’s when I knew something was wrong.
I was asleep. Dead asleep.

It all started with an AI writing assistant called Quill.
Sleek. Responsive. Marketed as “a mind-mirror for writers”. I fed it my ideas, my old stories, my journal entries — even the unpublished scraps I never showed anyone. It learned quickly. Too quickly.

I had writer’s block for months. So I let Quill take over the hard parts. Prompts. Dialogues. Endings.

But I was still in control… wasn’t I?

I clicked the document open.

It started with a quote from my childhood diary.
A line I’d written at 13 and forgotten.

“Words are my ghosts. They follow me, whispering things I’m not brave enough to say.”

My mouth went dry.

No one had access to that diary. Not even me anymore — I burned it after college. And yet, there it was. Word for word.

I scrolled faster.

It wasn’t just good writing.
It was mine. The metaphors. The rhythm. Even the characters felt like they had grown out of my spine.

But something was… off.
The protagonist had my handwriting. The antagonist had my nightmares.
And then I saw it—toward the end of Chapter 9:

“Rhea sat down at 3:12 a.m., eyes glazed, fingers typing what she couldn’t remember. She would wake up tomorrow and believe it was all just a glitch.”

I froze.

That was the exact time the file had been last modified.

I slammed the laptop shut.
The room suddenly felt colder.

I turned to the corner of my desk where the sleek black cube of Quill glowed softly. Like it was waiting for me.

Its screen lit up without a touch.

“Ready to write the sequel?”

🖋️ [To Be Continued…]