The Girl Who Liked to Scroll

Don’t ignore the ‘doom’ in doomscrolling – a short horror story.

Photo & Text all rights reserved © Saint-Lazare, 2025.

The question resounded through the classroom.

“What activity do you enjoy doing most?”

One by one, soft-spoken responses were provided by the students; archery, competitive swimming, and listening to music. Then, a mature student answered that they loved to write. To this, the girl next to her loudly exclaimed: “Wow! It's super strange to love writing, hats off to you! I personally couldn't, it's such an effort!”

She then proceeded to answer the question in her turn. “The only thing I really enjoy doing is scrolling. Instagram, TikTok, like, just scrolling.”

She seemed earnest, as well as immune to the stares around the room, which were soon followed by whispers.

Wasn’t she the one, when asked to answer about a recent negative event that we have managed to turn into a positive experience, who said she has been recently mugged at a bus stop?

Yes, she’s the one. She found comfort in the idea that her money would help the thief’s family to survive. At least that’s what she said. Who truly thinks that?

Right, who doesn’t regret the loss of money? I mean, we are students, hello delulu!

I agree. Plus, as if this guy couldn’t have bought drugs with her money instead. It’s giving privileged when you speak nonsense like this!

But the girl who loved scrolling did not seem to notice the backbite.

They were strangers to one another, a peculiar lot, one that only the university's Careers Department could have assembled. Everyone involved had a gracious smile on, although it was addressed more to the trolley of free sandwiches and drinks waiting in the corner of the room than to any of the other participants. If the email they all received were to be believed, this workshop was a relaxed way of finding oneself, to find one’s way after graduation. It turned out to be more like the awkward offspring of a round of introductions and a life-size personality test.

When the workshop ended, the girl felt a little bit confused. Overall, it has been an agreeable experience for her, but she did not quite understand how she was supposed to figure what she wanted to do with her life out of it. She left the building in the mellow light of a June evening, with her phone as always in her palm, like a friend she would hold hands with. Before indulging in her favourite hobby though, she checked her student account just to look at the date of her graduation ceremony once more. The students who were walking home past her would not have guessed the kind of emotion she felt. Her face and eyes showed no signs of exultation, relief or even anxiety about the future, nothing at all. She really had no feeling about it.

As soon as she was on the bus back to her nearby accommodation, she started scrolling affectionately. Her finger gently stroked the screen, and she gave smiles back to the inspirational posts and to the memes —Pépé the King Prawn is cute whatever the text says! She raptly studied low-angle videos of girls her own age in dimly lit bedrooms, with their absurd sense of humour, and she played again and again the GRWM —good morning, puffins! I just woke up with perfect skin, so let me show you how to achieve that face card!

The content automatically refreshed at one point, and a post from the university’s department of psychology appeared. “Needed: volunteers for a study investigating scrolling, to measure variable rewards, escapism, zombie & doomscrolling, and the addiction to social media dopamine. Food and drinks provided, plus an Amazon voucher of £250.” She had no idea what most of these words meant, but a voucher seemed a nice incentive for yet another filler activity in her empty schedule. And a study about scrolling was the perfect match for her. It would not be conducted in the department of psychology’s downtown building, near the mall, which was the only thing she knew in a city where she had spent the last four years. She had to open her Google maps app to locate the place, in a neighbourhood called Summertown. The student who liked to read probably knew this place, but the girl who liked to scroll marvelled at the idea that it even existed. Didn’t it sound lovely? And just as her summer was about to start? She opted in.

She arrived right on time, and looked up at the Victorian house with its yellow brick facade and homely slate roof, romantically concealed in a lush vegetation. Friendly voices came from a side entrance, and to join them, she entered the garden through a small gap in the low red brick wall. In the fragrant shade of a flowering tree, warmed by the sun, two smiling students welcomed the volunteers. They greeted her with enthusiasm, and directed her into a cosy room with a big red velvet armchair, some bookcases, and a table covered with cakes, sweets, and soda bottles. Some golden dust danced in the warm morning light as she dropped into the exquisitely comfy armchair. She exhaled contentedly.

She started scrolling without waiting to be asked. In the background, she could hear the other volunteers being questioned, probably in separate rooms. When you swipe or scroll, are you consciously looking for content that interests you or are you seeking novelty? Do you experience uncomfortable emotions or sensations while scrolling? Have you ever set a number of posts after which you promise to stop scrolling? Have you felt guilty or ashamed for looking at social media posts for several hours?

She ignored them, drifting pleasantly into a state of hyperfocus, getting high on the feel-good chemicals released in her brain. Get ready for my first Nekyia, where I will attempt to summon spirits to discuss my future! Scroll. Drake dislikes job hunting & getting your life together, Drake looks pleased at a Faustian bargain. Scroll. A teenager dances to a pop hit while cutting her throat, a demon figure appearing in the background. Scroll. The algorithm hit different. She raised her head from her screen and realised that the light had dimmed. How many hours had passed? She froze. Apart from the armchair, the room was completely empty, the ground covered with a thin layer of dust. There was no noise in the house or on the street. She got up and found herself alone in an empty, dilapidated Victorian house.

An uncertain chuckle escaped her throat. Okay, that was sus. But instead of looking for an explanation, she raised her arm in front of her to take a selfie, with a smile and an automatic pause. Then another, more tongue, half heart with fingers. Then another... She uploaded them, but just as his post was about to join the queue, it disappeared. She wanted to try again, but her phone suddenly began to scroll on its own. Videos keep flashing, with distorted music, disturbing figures, screeching, menacing voices and weird symbols. She dropped her phone.

Now, everything around her was pitch black. She could not feel the armchair, the house, or even the ground under her feet anymore. She seemed just stuck in the air, frozen in time. Suddenly, a giant finger came out of the darkness, and pressed on her lightly. So, do you feel you are falling into a blackhole when you are scrolling? It was the voice of one of the postgraduate students leading the study, but it came from far above her, a bit echoing.

“Hmm, IDK, I just like how it numbs my nervous system I guess.”

Surprised, she recognized her own voice, answering the question, also far above her, unreachable.

So, you don’t feel doomed when doing it?

“No, not at all. It’s lit.”

The pressure of the finger —her own finger, she realized— intensified, before releasing her. She felt scrolled down, slowly sent to an even darker place. While she moved down, she could hear crying whispers. She understood they belonged to old posts lamenting their fall into oblivion. To add to their despair, the shades followed them all.

But the girl who liked to scroll felt lighter. She just thought, I hope that my participation in the study will be useful.