Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S3 Ep121: Episode 121: Online Horror Stories

Episode Date: April 16, 2023

To get 20% off sitewide at www.exploreroam.com and use the code ‘Dungeon’ at check-out. Today’s first macabre story is ‘How to access the "Forbidden Wiki"’, an original series by Mr. Outlaw, kindly shared with me via NoSleep and narrated here for you all with the author’s kind permission. https://www.reddit.com/user/Mr_Outlaw_/ Tonight’s next fabulous tale of terror is ‘I Posted a True Stalker Story Online: My Stalker Read It...’ by Snickeringhaystack, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all: https://www.reddit.com/user/snickeringhaystack/ Today’s final story, an instant classic in the making is ‘Lost Episodes Can Be Found Again’, a story by HopelessNightOwl, shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and recorded here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Lost_Episodes_Can_Be_Found_Again https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:HopelessNightOwl

Experience a legacy that lasts at Dawn Valley North Lexus. Right now, Lisa, 2026, RX-350 premium package from just 638 per month for 28 months at 3.9%. Plus qualified Lexus loyalty guests receive a 1.5% rate reduction for rates as low as 2.4%. See Don Valley Northlexus.com for details. A proud member of Wayne's Auto Group. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeons. Being online can be both a wonderful and terrifying experience, depending on how you use it and the situations you can encounter. Overall, being online can expose you to a variety of dangers from cyberbullying to identity theft.

It's important to be aware of these risks and take steps to protect yourself and your personal information online. Where you can that is, as we'll see in tonight's stories. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. And let's begin. How to access the forbidden wiki. We all love Wikipedia, don't we?

A seemingly endless source of information, all consolidated on a well-formatted, visually-pleasing websites. And despite what your teacher might tell you, I can guarantee you that just about nobody's trying to rewrite history pages with false information. Nobody has time for that, nor does anybody care enough to do it. Beyond research and general curiosity, there's a ton of fun stuff you can do on the site. For example, there's the Wikipedia game where you start on one topic page and then click on related hyperlinks until you reach the pre-specified destination page. Also, did you know that if you go on a Wikipedia page relating to any topic,

click on the first hyperlink and repeat the process, you'll eventually find yourself in a loop that always directs you back to the page for philosophy? Deep stuff, really. Now, that's all fun and whatnot. But did you know that there's something else you can do on Wikipedia, a ritual of sorts? I recommend proceeding with caution. There's a certain level of risk involved when pursuing something like this.

Would I recommend it? Not really. So why am I talking about it at all? Well, I'll explain later. Now, this is what you'll need. A device with internet access, preferably something mobile like a laptop or smartphone. Make sure that none of your personal information is stored on this device. If it's a smartphone, take out the SIM card, delete all your contacts, social media apps, photos and so on.

This is not an optional step. Internet access, preferably public like a library or a large, crowded coffee shop. Obviously not so feasible right now, so I'd wait until the virus dies down. You can also just use your home internet. Not recommended, though. a weapon, bodyguard, vehicle. Optional, but also not at the same time. You'll only need these things for reasons I'll explain later,

but more often than not, you won't be needing these things. Fifteen out of a hundred times, I'd say. Still, better safe than sorry. Try and pack some heat. Here's what you'll need to do. Sit down at a library, coffee shop, universally, campus or any place with public Wi-Fi. Start off by visiting an extremely popular wiki page.

For example, Michael Jordan, World War II, Elon Musk, Google, whatever. Now, here's where you've got to exert a little bit of brain power. You're going to have to traverse from this popular page to an obscure page that has hardly been seen at all in comparison. But don't go searching up something like creepiest Wikipedia pages or most bizarre Wikipedia media pages and try to get there. If those pages are on a list, then they probably received a lot of traffic. You'll need to find a page about something truly unknown or inane, like some unheard-of-Romanian

folk singer from the 1960s who only released two songs before dying in their 30s or something. Doing this is harder than you might think. The page truly has to be something that very few people are aware of or would bother to learn about. Once you found a page that you deem suitably obscure and unseen, you'll have to click on the Wikipedia homepage, find another popular topic and repeat the process. Maybe three, four, five times at the very max. But don't worry about clicking pages endlessly. You'll know that you've done it right when you come across a seemingly blank page. The wiki symbol and site options will still be there, but the page itself will be devoid of any pictures or text.

except for the title of the page at the top, that is. It'll say, information limit, followed by a string of numbers. Remember that string. You'll need it later. Also, don't close the browser. You have done it. The ritual has officially begun. At this point, you'll have to leave the location you accessed it at.

For the love of God. Don't just go back into your house. get into your car or walk on foot to a remote location without internet access you can't just be disconnected from a network there should be no networks available to scan for at all make yourself comfortable and open that information limit page again hit refresh another page should load up despite the lack of connection it'll be a login screen with a single prompt enter access point Enter the string of numbers you've memorized earlier, except for the last two digits. Most people who try this just type in the string as it is. Do not do this, or you'll be met with a horrible fate. Pay attention and refrain from fucking this up.

Once this is done correctly, you'll be directed to something that looks like the Wikipedia homepage, but just a bit different. Now, I'm not quite sure what kind of site there's. is or where it even originates from. A lot of people just call it the forbidden wiki, myself included. I need to note something of great importance here. If the page that loaded up is not in English or whatever language that you originally accessed it from, then click off immediately and go home. You shouldn't try and subject yourself to any of the images that may pop up on the pages you visit. They aren't meant for you.

aren't meant for human perception. If you glance upon these images, you'll end up with a fate worse than the one that you get if you enter the entire string into the prompt. And that one is bad to begin with. You're curious, but don't take the risk. But if the page is in the language you recognise, then go ahead and proceed.

You'll notice that the Wikipedia symbol will now be a bit different than the one you're familiar with. It might be a different shaper. different colour, different symbols perhaps. More often than not, it'll look more ominous, more sinister, I suppose. You need to keep in mind that the articles and topics you might stumble across on this site do not exist in our world. They're not something that we need to be worried about.

Don't step at night thinking about what you'll see. As far as we need to be concerned, they're not real. From this point, you have free range to explore, as you please somewhat be sure not to look at more than around 15 pages spending less than a minute on each if you linger around forbidden knowledge for too long they will know you're looking and they'll be sure to look for you as well this is information that you shouldn't be privy to and they'll make sure it remains that way so who are they exactly anybody who's had a solid answer to that question likely isn't around to divulge it. Just know that they are not from this plane of

reality, but they possess far more strength and knowledge than you could ever imagine. Don't think you'll be able to evade or, God forbid, try and fight back against them. Even the most decorated government fuel agent who's been through hell and back wouldn't come close to succeeding. Humans that try and overstep the boundaries of what they're supposed to know and nothing but pesky bugs that need to be exterminated to them. Or in the worst case, bugs that need to be made an example out of first. But don't be too scared. Like I said, just don't linger on any one page for too long and don't visit too many.

If you do this, you'll more or less be able to bypass their detection. But don't think that this means you're somehow getting the best of them. You need to read and analyse these forbidden articles for upwards. of hours before understanding what they truly mean and the ramifications of their existence in the multiverse. With less than a minute of exposure, you'll only be able to gain a surface level of understanding of the subjects at best, and they hardly care about that. However, there is a way to legitimately bypass their detection, enabling you to look at the articles for a longer duration of time. But these involve complicated strategies that require extensive knowledge in both

programming and arcane occult rituals. And even then, the risk is still astronomically high. Again, not recommended. You might be wondering why you can't just take pictures and look over them afterwards for however long you want. Well, suppose you could, but it makes no difference. I'll still know you're looking and react accordingly. So why bother bringing any kind of weapon, you might ask? Well, it's not to fight back against them, like a said that's a fruitless effort. Nah, these weapons are for the lurkers. Sometimes if you're unlucky, around 15% of the time, like I said, your mere digital presence on the forbidden wiki will alert them to your location, and it's something that can't be held. But even though the

lurkers aren't in any way affiliated with them, they do have comparable goals. They don't want you looking at that information either. But unlike them, the lurkers don't want you to have any kind of awareness of the subjects at all. You won't be able to anticipate them. They might fall out of a tree if you're in a forest. They might step out of a dark corner if you're in an abandoned building. They might crawl out of a lake. You get the gist.

You won't see them coming. Some will be more humanoid in appearance, or some will look more unfamiliar. I'll try and kill you in any possible way. should you keep looking at the site. One sure way to guarantee your survival in these situations is just to close the browser, drop your device and take off. If you do this, they'll have no reason to chase you down.

However, if you do want to keep looking, the lurkers aren't impossible to dispose of. In fact, if you're well-armed and have moderate combat experience, you should be able to wipe them out relatively easily, and then continue exploring the site. Conversely, you could hire somebody else to deal with them on your behalf while you continue browsing. I'd recommend this option. Like I said, you can't stay on one page for too long, and if the lurkers start giving you trouble, then you might be a bit screwed.

Now, I'm not quite sure what the deal is with the lurkers either. One theory is that they're simply interdimensional agents or mercenaries hired by a third party who wants to protect their information from outside eyes. But then who is this third party? Why are they trying to protect the info? Well, this is why I don't bother with the theorising. There's simply too much that we can't know. Well, now that's out of the way.

Let me tell you about some of the pages I've come across on the Forbidden Wiki. Keep in mind that I had under a minute to glance over these, and despite having a fairly good memory, I'll only be able to describe so much. The Great Lakes Incident The Great Lakes Incident was a naval battle that took place across all five Great Lakes on the Canadian-U.S. border from 2007 to 2011. Reports about a mysterious ship rising out of the water alert to Canadian authorities in late 2010. The belligerents were of an unusual nature, able to withstand conventional weaponry, possessing multiple heads, considered between amphibian and humanoid,

and finally resolved using fire bombs and chemical weapons. Inhabitants of the Bermuda Triangle. The beings living on these small scattered islands are extremely hostile towards human contact, reported to be able to fly, causing trouble for aircraft traveling through, believed to have originated from a large underwater volcano. The Grand Canyon void. The Grand Canyon void is a hole in the ground in northwest Arizona, measuring approximately 4.6 metres in diameter.

Hikers reported staring into the hole for hours on end, before they were dragged away from it by park authorities. An average of 12 hikers were reported to have jumped into it during the month of March, with their bodies turning up in different countries. Mr. Dream Mr. Dream is an Australian DJ from Perth. His self-proclaimed style is known as Infernal Trance. People at his live shows have been reported to experience moments of incredible euphoria

before disemboweling each other in the crowd. A manhunt is ongoing with his latest show reported to have occurred in June 2019 at an underground venue in Paris. The Acroid Mansion The Acroid Mansion is a large estate located on the outskirts of Houston, Texas, belonging to the Acroid family, famously known for being the founding members of the cult known as, the dawn of the collapsing moon.

77 attempts have been made to infiltrate the house, resulting in 587 obvious casualties. Only one known member of the Akroyd family has been neutralized. The members are known to conduct rituals involving biological transformations of the human body. These creatures react in accordance with lunar cycles, exhibiting the most violent tendencies when the moon appears early in its first quarter. Channel 51 News Channel 51 News is a controversial news station

that broadcasts on Channel 51 between 3 and 4 a.m. The reports presented on the program had been considered nonsensical and disturbing to the viewers watching. Sometimes the hosts have reported incidents that have not occurred up until that point, only for these incidents to transpire one week after, as was the case with the Tokyo Massacre.

The location the channel broadcasts out of remains impossible to pinpoint. As hard as it may be to believe, these are some examples of the more normal pages on the wiki. Some of the other ones I've seen a downright fucked up, the man inside your head. The man inside your head is an arcane entity that exists within your subconscious. His intentions are malicious,

and a good portion of your mental capacity is used to suppress him from escaping at any given time. Don't let him escape. Eye in the sky. The eye in the sky is a large eye measuring approximately 4,400 meters in diameter that appears in the sky every so often, usually during violent storms. When it appears, it's advised not to look at it under any circumstances. The only exceptions to this rule is for those who have been forsaken and absolutely need to.

You'll know if you need to. The corner in your basement. The corner in your basement is that one dark spot in your basement tucked away in that far corner. No matter how much light you shine on it, it will never illuminate. You'll never know what's lurking within it. You better figure out what it is soon.

The snowstorm angel. The snowstorm angel is that figure you see in your backyard during heavy snowstorms. You think your eyes are playing a trick on you and that your senses are somehow being distorted by the snowfall, but make no mistake, it's there. People often assume its nature to be benevolent, given its name. That assumption is incorrect. These kind of articles were always shorter in length. In fact, what I described above pretty much represented the entirety of the text.

These articles all included pictures as well. I regret ever looking at any of them You might be wondering why I'm telling you about the forbidden wiki at all Along with how to get there As contradictory as it may seem This is a precautionary tale Most people worry this and believe it to be fake Or simply lack the time, energy or motivation to go through with it

Good Be one of those people But then there's a people who don't fit that buildy thrill seekers, so to speak. These are the ones who look for it no matter what. Eventually they'll find another set of instructions written by someone else, but one that might not include a proper warning, one that doesn't tell the whole story.

And I'm here to give you that warning. Don't do this. I thought I was safe just browsing around. I followed all the rules. I had hit men off the dark web to accompany me in case the lurkers showed up, I always made sure not to overstay my welcome on any of the pages in order to keep myself hidden from them. In reality, the Forbidden Wiki is a strange and complicated place.

You may think that you've experienced enough and that you've figured all have these tricks out, but don't underestimate it. We were never meant to lay our eyes on something like this. I stumbled upon a particular page the last time I paid a visit to the site. This was the page that ruined everything. The title was simply a phone number, a phone number that contained my area code. Here was the description. I remember this one verbatim.

XXXXXXXXXXX is a number that will be calling you in a few days. You were obligated to answer his call and follow his instructions. If you refuse, he will come to you. you will only have two chances here's the thing I live in an apartment so I don't have a basement I'm pretty sure there's no demonic entity living inside my head I've never seen a giant eye in the sky

I'm in the south so snowfall is rare and sparse at best up until a point the shit I've seen on the wiki had been a hundred percent separate and disconnected from my real life I really thought I had no cause for concern. But I did get a call. A call from a number I really hoped I wouldn't see again. I let it ring through without picking up one last chance.

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In fact, what happened was a direct result of me posting it. I've since taken it down but I need to share what happened to me. Don't worry about that first story. You'll find that out as well as I tell this one. So let's get started. So, a little bit about myself. I'm 41 years old and currently working as a salesman at a retail outlet that specializes in men's business suits.

The job makes pretty good money, but with alimony to my ex-wife and child support on top of that I seemed to just barely get by. I just finished going through the horror of divorce six months before this last incident, and while I'd started drinking again, drinking and looking longingly at sleeping pill bottles and razor blades. I know what you're thinking,

but I've always been too much of a coward for that sort of thing. Oh, I will admit it's always seemed tempting, especially after losing everything like I did. Anyway, as you can imagine, I was feeling pretty low for a few weeks, so I was quite pleasantly surprised when this elegant, beautiful woman about my age, came into the store and began to show me some interest. She was tall and slim, wearing a charcoal jacket and skirt combo.

Her hair discreetly dyed bronze amber, had a very unassuming smile, not too blemished by laugh-lines or crow's feet. I admit I'd noticed her before she approached. me. I spotted her the moment she entered through the door. She seemed kind of familiar, but I wasn't going to tell her that. That's got to be the most obvious non-pick-up pickup line in the world, telling a strange woman she looks familiar. Anyway, she walked up to me with this coy smile,

just showing a glimpse of perfect white teeth and said, You probably think I'm in the wrong store. I gave a little giggle, cleared my throat and said, what I'm sorry this is a men's clothing store obviously she elaborated her eyes were deep brown almost black

and they were lively and active looking up into mine well ma'am I said we do have some pantsuits and some jackets for ladies if you like me to show you mom she remarked playfully do I really look that old to you

I chuckled nervously breaking eye-ckel contact with her and clearing my throat again. God, I must have seemed like a schoolboy, for Christ's sake. I then told her, not at all, that she didn't look old, but I just wanted to be respectful. Her smile widened, a long purple fingernails fidgeting with her purse strap. Well, she said in a soft voice, I'm actually here to find a suit for my son. He wants a tuxedo for prom. I fur at my brow. This was the dead of winter.

Proms aren't usually held until June or late May at the earliest. I know, she said, reading my look. His school is impossible. Well, they want to hold it early so that the students don't get too distracted from their studies. My son's also too busy playing his computer games to go get a suit itself, so he's too embarrassed to come with me, so here I am. I couldn't help but grin eagerly. That's my luck, I thought.

I showed her some of our more popular items. She told me her son's size, and together we found something she thought he'd like. The whole time she sided close to me, and I could smell her floral perfume. It was soothing, and I'll admit, I didn't make any attempt to distance myself from her. As I was ringing her up at the cash till, I told her that if anything didn't quite fit, she could bring it back in and we'd happily have it adjusted to fit her son's measurements. She gave a low, almost inaudible laugh, and told me that I probably didn't have to worry about that. There were no other customers in the store then, and the other cashier was on break, so we continued to chat.

She asked me what I did in my spare time for fun, and I hesitated, thinking of the rows of empty liquor bottles in my apartment and the sleeping pills next to the bathtub. Instead of answering her, I jumped at the opportunity and asked her if she'd like to get a drink later that evening. She said nothing, but tilted her head and scanned me with her sexy, roaming eyes. When do you get off work? She muttered softly. At seven, the words leapt from my mouth, if that's not too late for you. No, she said, her pearly grin flashing at me over supple red lips. That's perfect. I know a bar around this area

I'll be out front to pick you up Great, I said What's your name again? Andrea, I repeated extending my hand I'm Andy, nice to meet you Naturally That seemed to put my nagging feeling of deja vu

To rest I'd never known an Andrea Or met any Andreas's for that matter But the name was fitting And I rode each syllable over and over across my tongue, waiting for the hours of my shift to wilt away. By 6.30 we were locking up.

Jane, the girl working there, was balancing the cash register while I wrote the day's records in the books. As I wrote down the total debits and credits, I could barely hold onto the pencil. I was so jittery. I know how pathetic this must sound, but it had been a while since I'd been with a woman in any way,

and being older and just divorced, it was hard to build up the confidence to start dating again. By 7 o'clock it was dark out. Jane walked out and waved goodbye as I locked up the front door. At the curb in front of the sidewalk was a small blue station wagon. Not very fancy, but I wasn't going to complain. I looked through the passenger side window and saw Andrea peering out at me, her hooded eyes meeting mine, that slight smile drawn across her face.

I got in and immediately noticed how cold it was. There didn't seem to be any heating at all, and the radio wasn't even on. Strange, I thought, but maybe she lives close by. As she navigated out of the plaza and onto the road, I prattled on about the suit I'd sold her and how most customers said they were really happy with it. She didn't respond and wasn't smiling anymore. I didn't think too deep into it though

After all she was driving It's important to keep concentration The only thing that struck me as odd Was that she placed her purse on her lap while she was driving Since I'd had to sell my car after the divorce I was very pleased not to have to ride the subway or bus So I just eased back in my seat and enjoyed it I think that's the reason that I didn't notice

That we've been on the road a long time despite her telling me there was a bar close by. I knew something was up after she got onto a highway interchange. I looked at her, very confused. Um, did you say this bar was out of town? I asked. She didn't reply. Her eyes were glued to the road as we cruised up the ramp and onto the interstate. By now I was really getting nervous.

I noticed she took her left hand from the steering wheel and began reaching inside her purse. You really don't remember me, she said, her voice just louder than the car engine. I giggled a bit, but I didn't find this funny at all. I don't know, I stammered, looking at her. You do look familiar, but I know I've never met in Andrea before. I looked down at her lap into her now open purse. and felt my heart freeze in my chest.

The taped handle held in her delicate fingers was a snub-nosed revolver. I squirmed in my seat, as if I was going to fly out from the window, the seatbelt digging into my neck. What the hell are you doing? I shouted between panted breaths. The gun was now out and pointed out.

You probably don't know any, Andrea. she said coldly her voice empty vacant but you might remember Alicia Alicia Moreto probably from the panic I felt staring down the barrel of that gun the name didn't ring any bells and then she looked at me those bedroom eyes now burning like hot colds

open the glove box she muttered in a staid voice what I asked open the glove box she screamed i shuddered from the sharp change in her voice i did as i was told gingerly i stretched my shaking hand and pushed the log button the compartment door fell open and outspilled what had to be hundreds of pages of paper they were all lying at my feet she peered down in a quick glance and instructed me to read the staple pages printed on red paper I picked them up and immediately recognized what it was my post of my stalker story to an internet forum for true horror stories I then figured out who she was Alicia Moreto

the mentally disturbed girl who'd stalked me at my workplace and at my home years ago when I was in my late teens I pleaded with her and she just hollered at me to read it. her eyes back on the road but the revolver still trained on me I did as she said it was all there my words how she'd come into the coffee shop where I worked how her hair was constantly tangled and greasy how her clothes were always in tatters how she always smelled of B.O. and Vasily oh it was all there how'd she come in every

morning how she knew my schedule and when my shift was. How my co-workers had told me that she sometimes come in on my days off and ask where I was. At one night, I'd found her waiting for me in my hands. I tried to swallow, but I couldn't. I was trembling and the printed out pages fell from my weak hands involuntarily. She peered over at me. I could see her from the corner of my eyes. taught me to pick up the next set of papers,

the one printed on grey pages. I begged her again to just let me go, and she screamed for me to read it. I picked them up, not recognising any of the writing on it. Then I realised that these were the comments people had written on my post of the story. Comments like,

What a crazy bitch! Or, I would have been so freaked out by that cow, Or I'd have still hit it, though. Oh, L-O-L. Tears had started streaming down my face by the time I'd realized what this was. She had found my story, recognized it, and had come for me.

Please, I said to her, choked up having read all the comments and realized her purpose. I didn't realize how much it would upset you. I never used your real name. Do you think that that matters? her voice cracked it was like an animal's

growl all the prior sophistication and sensuality gone I knew that story was about me about a time in my life I was ashamed of she trailed off it sounded as though she'd begun to sock I looked at her

and her mouth was hung open as if in a silent scream her eyes squinting closed yes she too was crying After a terrifying moment, she gave a cough, tossed back her hair and was once again icily composed. I looked close and could just see the smudges of mascara under her eyes. She then told me to reach inside her purse.

I, of course, was not about to do that. I won't shoot you if you do exactly as I say. She then said in a calm but uneven voice. The voice smacked of the psychotic deserced. of the girl who'd stalked me those many years ago. I nodded my head slightly, then quickly turned to glance out the window. It was now very dark, and there were few other cars on the road. Careful not to brush up against the gun, I reached over and put my hand in her purse.

Inside, I found what felt like a set of polarites. My skin waxed cold, imagining that these were probably photos of me she'd. taken without my knowledge. I pulled them out and looked at them. There weren't pictures of me at all. The first photograph was of a couple standing outside a wedding chapel, the woman smiling radiantly in a white lace gal. The handsome moustache man next to her wearing a black tuxedo and cummerbund. They were close and holding each other's hands. I flipped through to the next photo to see the same couple kissing with their eyes closed. A sight of the same couple. A setting above a glimmering ocean behind them.

I flipped through and in the next photograph I saw the woman lying in a hospital bed covered by dark green surgical sheets holding a newborn baby. The baby was wrapped in a blanket, the husband standing beside them, smiling. I flipped through and saw a photo of the couple with two pre-teen children, sitting on a beach wearing jean shorts and bright-colored shirts, smiling up into the camera's POV. I then realized these photos were of her.

This woman named Alicia. She had a family or had a family. What did this have to do with my story? I don't understand, I mumbled. She shot me a look out the corner of her eye and didn't say anything. I looked out the window and saw there were no light. on the side of the road.

Past the barrier there was nothing but tall trees and bleak wilderness. We were now far, far from any major city or town. I thought about reaching in my coat for my phone, but I knew that if I did, she might have shot me. Then I started wondering why she didn't just kill me already if that's what she intended to do. The minutes felt like hours in that car. The darkness beyond the roadside seemed to stretch for an eternity,

like I'd woken up in him. hell. And finally, after God knows how long, she spoke. It took me ten years, she said, her voice straining, quavering like that dimented girl I remembered. It took me three years to get over you, and another seven to forgive myself. I went to counseling, therapy. Eventually I agreed to take the medication. You see, I suffer from paranoid schizophrenia. It sort of runs in my family, but it didn't appear in me until about five months before I met you. My parents had gotten a divorce. Dr. Walden told me that's likely what triggered my breakdown.

And then I saw you. It's like you were there for me. My psychiatrist says I was using you as a misplaced source of love, love and security, which I felt had been torn away from me by my parents' divorce. You were always there and always so plight. So I mistook your plightness and charm for love and affection. At that moment, I don't know why, but I didn't feel scared anymore.

I just felt gloomy, depressed. We often call people crazy, but when we actually hear the medical terms, it becomes a lot less distant. She continued. So for ten years after you, I avoided people. I didn't see friends. I barely spoke to my parents, and I absolutely. never went out on dates. First because I was still in love with you,

and then because I was so ashamed, ashamed and afraid I would become that super attached psychopath that I had been to you. I wanted so many times to contact you and to apologize, but my counsellor and Dr. Walton were adamant that that would be a bad idea. They said it would cause me to relapse. So for ten years I was alone, hating myself.

And then I met David. David was a graduate student in university studying physical geography. He'd approached me first. We met at a bar or restaurant, actually. My parents had insisted on taking me out for my birthday, and he'd asked the waiter to put our bill on his tab. She then gave a sorrowful laugh, a tear falling down her cheek. He barely had enough money to pay for his beer,

and he wanted to pay for a whole family's meal, just to speak with me. We studied out just as friends and with his insistence we became more than that. I loved him and felt so much better. I finally felt well enough to go back to school and complete my degree. We got married shortly after he graduated. He'd been hired at a consulting firm so we were mostly stable. I finally forgave myself and forgot all about you.

But I never told him. Never. A year into our marriage we had Aaron and two years later Cassandra We were both so happy I was happy I got a job as a typist at a law firm It wasn't much but it gave me something to do after the children were old enough to go to school I liked working there

Everyone was so friendly and helpful One day Mark One of the support staff members in facilities was Showing me this website he often goes to mostly to look up funny pictures and he told me about this page that was scary stories and creepy encounters I immediately recognized what most of the stories were about

I searched all the posts and he didn't take me long to find one that was familiar too familiar I knew that it was you who'd posted it she then stopped and let out a heavy sigh her moist eyes rolling up and looking long at the car It was as though she couldn't believe she was actually telling me this. Her voice had stopped sounding like a nervous psychotic,

and more like that of a sobbing, distraught woman. The gloom lingered thick inside the car, over both of us. After that, my paranoia and anxiety spiked, she continued. I tried to fight it by up in the dose of my medication, but that didn't work. Pretty soon I just stopped, since they only seemed to make me drink, She then gave another humorous little laugh, as though she caught herself in a lie. You know, I thought it was because David had seen the post that he left me and why I couldn't

even get joint custody of the children, but that's not true. The truth is seeing your post made me act erratically. I started throwing fits, fighting with him for no reason, shouting at the children and beating them over things that weren't their fault. I'd stop sleeping. at night, believing the next door neighbours were spying on us and plotting to come in and steal everything. It was because of me that David left me, and I acted that way because of your pose. I was now staring out the window. I could make out open fields in the distance with the slightest smattering of brush. Where the hell was she taking me? I couldn't forgive myself, she said. I know now, that I never will. I gulped and asked.

So how did you find me? She smiled maliciously in my direction, amused by my discomfort. Oh, one of the criminal lawyers at my firm. Mike Corson, he has a team of private investigators. I do paperwork for him, so I forged a memo asking one of the PIs to find your whereabouts. It didn't take long. I knew your full name, where you'd once worked, and where you'd once worked. you grew up. I was of course surprised you still lived there after all these years.

Her smile was now spiteful and mocking. That and her last comment made me look away, slightly incensed. Of course when Mike found out about it, I was fired. Miss appropriation of the firm's resources. It didn't help I was already on thin ice for obvious reasons. The road we'd driven on a disinced integrated into a rough, jagged path of scrappy concrete. It was as though we'd gone back in time to when there was nothing but dirt and jungle. I actually started worrying that if we drove any longer that the road would stop, or we'd be stranded in desert. I looked at the clock on the dash and the green numbers revealed 1203.

We had been driving for hours. Another hour passed with nothing, just silence. I started absorbing what she told me and felt this weight form in the pit of my stomach. I'd caused this. I'd ruined her life. And for what? A little bit of attention on an online forum?

Jesus. The episode hadn't been that much for my life and for God's sake, she was schizophrenic. The whole damn thing now seems sleazy and I no longer felt scared. I wasn't frightened at all. I just wanted this to end. By 115 she slowed down the car.

We pulled over, parking on a gravel shoulder by a vast empty field. The car pointed away and perpendicular to the road. When she switched off her headlights, it went all black beyond the windshield. My eyes adjusted, I could just make out the black shape of the field beneath the lighter shade of the starless night sky. We both sat there, not looking at each other, like we'd just fucked for money. She didn't move, didn't stir. The revolver still trained on me.

I'm sorry, I said. My voice was contrite and damp. I know what I did was wrong. When I met you, it was at a moment when you were your most vulnerable, and it was wrong for me to take a moment. advantage. Even years later, she didn't look at me, didn't move. But I knew she'd heard me. Go ahead, I then said to her, kill me. I deserve to be hurt. I deserve to die. I don't want to live anymore. Just then, she straightened in her seat, still staring out into the field before us.

No, she said, huskily, you deserve to feel what I feel every day. I then heard the hammer click backward and watched as she opened her perfect mouth and stuck the barrel into it. I shouted and lunged towards her, but there was a flash and I saw spots. My ears were ringing and blot like I was underwater. After about a minute my eyes adjusted. Then I stared.

stupidly surprised by the sight of the woman's mutilated face resting next to me in the car. The interior was completely splattered with blood and groped endlessly for the door handle, finally finding it, and I fell out onto the pebble ground from the passenger side. Got on my hands and knees and pute my guts out. After I stood up, I dove over and dry heaved for several minutes. From there I wore the shoulder. Not thumbing, not trying to get home, just trying to get as far away from Andrea as I could. Eventually, my daybreak, someone driving a rusted pickup pulled over and asked me if I needed a lift.

Still shaken and exhausted, I approached his passenger side window. Once I was a foot away from his truck, I saw his face, drain pale. His pupils shrink in the sockets, and in one hyper movement, he grabbed the greged, year stick, put it into drive and sped off. I stared at the fleeing vehicle confused, and then I looked down on my clothes. I was, of course, covered with blood. I took off my jacket and shirt, wipe my face with them, and then tossed them, continuing the rest of the way in just my undershirt and slacks. About two hours later, someone picked me up and drove me as far as the next major city. From there, I took a bus home and called in sick to work.

About a week after the incident, two detectives came to see me at my home. They asked me about my relationship to the deceased, Alicia Moreto Libman. I told them the whole story. They informed me that they'd found Google Map printouts of my address and a PI file of my name at the scene. They tried to get me to go downtown with them, but I refused and called a lawyer. My new lawyer, Mr. Michael Corson, who agreed to represent me pro bono, told me there's no chance of a charge of murder being brought against me. The evidence of possible foul play is pretty thin.

My story, although incredible, makes enough sense, and the police are happy to write off her death as a suicide rather than spend endless manoe as an O.T. investigating their homicide. Cawson recommended me to a better matrimonial lawyer, and I got my alimony reduced and received more time to see my kids. I also entered A.A. I've started to get over my self-destructive thoughts and behaviour.

Don't get me wrong. I feel horrible about what happened to Alicia. And her last words do stick with me. But, I mean, how far does guilt get you? Lost episodes can be found again. I'm going to tell you a secret. But first, you have to promise me you won't laugh. This is still an uncomfortable subject for me, so I'd appreciate your understanding.

do you have a deal when I was five years old I watched a movie no child should ever see I don't remember much about the circumstances of my viewing other than it was at the house where my family lived late at night in the dark with

only the television providing lights the film was an animated feature and depicted themes of animal cruelty death and dismemberment the scenes were surreal and terrifying and left a deep impression on me For years afterward, the only scene I could remember clearly was when an evil man was drowning a family of cats in a stream, which I would have nightmares about for years afterwards.

I remember seeing it early in the movie, followed by many more disturbing and surreal scenes. I remember your promise, because this is the part I was talking about. I never taught anyone about what I saw, but the name of the movie was well known. The Arister Cats. I suppose I can forgive you if you broke your promise, but I must emphasize that I am not joking. I saw a movie called The Aristercats, filled with the scenes I've described, and it scarred me for life. I don't think about the experience very often, but it was always in the back of my mind in some way. Though I didn't realize it at the time, I now know that it caused me to shy away from animation and children's shows.

It suddenly informed my whole outlook on the trappings of child. I found myself bracing with dread whenever I had to watch any children's animation in school. My childhood was relatively normal otherwise, for an introvert anyway, but every once in a while I would think back to the movie and find my inner piece disturbed. It wasn't until maybe third or fourth grade when I started to realize that my experience with the movie had not been typical. I didn't tell anyone, not even my parents, about what I'd witnessed in that dark room at age five. but I eventually figured out on my own that there was nothing horrific about the version everyone else had watched.

I still wasn't willing to see it for myself, but I figured if they'd seen what I'd seen. But I figured if they'd seen what I had, I would have been able to tell whenever they spoke of the film. Anyone who had anything to say about it seemed to consider it either a nostalgic classic or unremarkable. When I was in middle school, I asked my mom if I'd ever seen the Arristercats. She said I had once, having stayed up past my bedtime and watched it secretly. She said I seemed strangely disturbed by the film, and I'd never wanted to watch it again as a small child. I asked if we still had it in the house, but she said I'd been so afraid of the movie that she'd thrown it out. Well, it had been a home VHS recording that she bought at an estate sale rather than a retail copy.

I finally decided to watch the movie again. I ordered it from the library and watched it on Saturday. It took me a couple of hours to work up the courage to finally hit Play. I found it to be a wonderful film. Immediately I realized that whatever I remembered seeing at age five had nothing to do with this movie. There was no graphic violence, no psychedelic scenes, nothing that should have traumatized me as a child.

Yet what I'd seen all those years ago definitely shared elements with this movie. The kittens and their mother were drugged and kidnapped. not drowned, but I instantly recognize the moments leading up to this divergence and almost had a flashback to the cartoon drowning I had witnessed. I was hoping to find closure,

but instead I was more trouble than ever. There was no question in my mind now that I'd viewed some awful and perverted version of this classic film. I told one of my friends about it a few days later. I didn't let him know how convinced I was of what I'd seen as a young child, instead simply relating it as a vague and confused memory.

Like, hey, the other day I saw the arister cats. I used to be terrified of that movie because for some reason I thought I saw gore scenes and cats drowning when I watched it at five years old. Funny how your memory plays tricks on you at that age, isn't it? He told me about the movie Philidio. He explained it was an animated movie about cats with a similar animation style that contained graphic gore scenes

and was definitely not for children. He said maybe I'd seen that movie instead of the Aristocrats. I streamed and watched Philardier. I saw what my friend meant about the style having the same feel as the Aristocrats, except dark and bloody. But it wasn't the film that I'd seen. I knew, I knew for sure that five-year-old me had watched a movie with the same characters as the Aristocrats, and I also knew for sure that it had contained bizarre and disturbing scenes not shown in the mainstream version. Oh, this whole thing was driving me up the wall.

To try and get some kind of closure, I started seeking out and watching old children's animation that contained graphic and disturbing elements that would never be included today, such as Watership Down, the 1978 version. All these works were interesting and gripping in their own way. They were decidedly non-Disney. While other studios may have been willing to take such risks with their works decades ago, the fact that the Aristocats is a Disney property made me sure that the version I'd seen

was something I was absolutely not supposed to ever part two I let it go after a while a few years passed and in college I learned about this internet urban legend called Lost Episodes People claim to have seen episodes of TV shows or altered versions of movies usually animated that contain graphic and disturbing content

The episode or movie was often found in unexpected places, and those claiming to have seen it often said it mysteriously disappeared, whether through a VHS tape appearing to have somehow self-erased, a website going dead immediately after viewing, and so on. To be honest, I didn't put much stock in the validity of these stories, but with my Aristocat's experience still in the back of my mind, I decided to look further into it. I found a YouTube channel called Cartoon Geek who was disgusting a certain lost episode for his 40,000 subscriber special after going through the obliquatory thanks and talking about how much his subscribers meant to him and all that he began

Now for those of you who are new to this channel I'm basically just a guy obsessed with all things nostalgic and geeky about cartoons and other media Most of my content is simply reviewing old cartoons and whatnot usually superhero related however I also do a side series on the strange and creepy side of animation for example my 20k subspecial was a three-part series on Disney and their alleged subliminal messages in film and television and this video you're watching now is sort of in the same vein we're gonna be taking

another look at a certain lost episode for those who don't know lost episodes are basically this urban legend about episodes of TV shows which were lost as the name implies. These episodes are said to contain graphic and or disturbing and surreal elements and are generally regarded as material that the public was not meant to see. A few months ago I covered an alleged lost episode from the 1968 filmation series The Adventures of Batman. I loved this show as a kid, even though it was a few decades before my time. There was one episode with a scene where Batman and Robin fall through a trap door set by the Joker and slide toward their doom. At the end of the slight tongue is a giant open furnace, looking like the

Joker's face. Of course, since this is a kid show, they don't actually slide into the furnace and burn alive. They get out with their gadgets. So, to recap, in 2009, this anonymous internet post started circulating online about an alleged lost version of this scene. In it, the dynamic duo actually do slide into the furnace, burn alive, scream, and as show graphically being burned to a crisp, followed by surreal and non-linear scenes of grieving friends of Bruce Wayne in mourning at the funeral service. Now, when I did my first video on this subject, I was honest with you guys. I didn't really think there was much credibility to this story. I like to keep an open mind on this show, but there were just certain elements of the post that made me say,

okay, this is probably bullshit, like how the tape conveniently erased itself after the anonymous author viewed it. But since then I've gotten a lot of comments and emails about how this allegedly lost episode has been posted online. Naturally a lot of you are saying this is fake, but this topic won the poll for this special, so let's find out. After some more preamble, the video cut to the alleged lost episode at the part where Batman and Robin are sliding down the tunnel toward the furnace. All the parts where the two use their belt gadgets to get free were removed. And when the two were closed to the furnace, the screen filled with a fire, and two poor-quality shrieks played. After that, there were some strange abstract scenes,

but all of these seemed to be simply random clips from other episodes with some editing effects thrown at them. Cartoon geek returned. Okay, so right off the bat, Batman and Robin die off screen, which is obviously not what happened in the Lost episode post that was shared around. They basically just used the flames from earlier in the scene and cut them over to make it look like Batman and Robin died, adding in a canned scream effect. The surreal scenes that follow all, so just random clips from throughout the show with various editing tricks applied. I could have done some of them myself. So, while this is impressive work, I think it's pretty clear that this is a fan project

inspired by the anonymous post. I'm going to rate this animation myth as debunked for now. he gave some more breakdown and deconstruction of the clip some kind of promotional giveaway what really got my attention however was some of the comments there were at least a few people insisting that the lost episode was real and they'd seen it with their own eyes

a PM'd one of these people asked if he'd really seen the episode and about the circumstances he responded within the hour yeah I was at summer school and during recess I snuck up to the school library's backroom to be alone. I put a VHS of the cartoon that was there. I'm sorry, well, honestly, I wasn't really disturbed back then

since my parents let me watch irated horror movies and stuff. But yeah, man, this thing is real. I asked if he knew any information about the other supposed lost episodes phenomena, but he said he didn't. I did some research on my own. There were a few lost episode stories floating around on the internet.

mostly about children's shows. To be honest, not many of them seemed all that credible. Still, I strongly felt like there was something real here behind all the embellishment and fictionalization. I decided to see if there were any such stories surrounding the Aristocrats. My searches for disturbing content in the movie returned nothing but the expected.

This one scene in the Aristocats totally scared me for life as a kid, kind of stuff. Or more information about that, Phileadier movie. I tried reaching out to some of the credited animators, writers and crew members, varying the content of my emails so as to cast as wide a net as possible. For example, some of my emails focused on disturbing content that may have been cut, while other drafts asked more generally about alternative versions or cut scenes. I also expanded my web searches. I used all the search engine tricks I could find and started using obscure and foreign language engines. After a few months of

no information and no responses to my email queries, I started to think that maybe I should just forget about the whole thing. Maybe my real memories of watching the Aristocrats had merged with some nightmare I had to create my present memories, and maybe repeating those memories to myself so many times during my childhood had falsely convinced me of their reality. I was about to consign to this newfound self-closure. When I found something during one of my foreign language searches, it was a thread and a Chinese message board. The OP had a JPEG image and text that roughly translated to Aristocat's movie, creepy. If I had had coffee to drop and spill all over my computer, I would have.

The image dashed away any hope I had of passing off my child and experiences, just a traumatic nightmare that had stuck in my head longer than it should have. It was a frame from whatever twisted version of the Aristocats I'd seen, and while I hadn't actually remembered this particular still until I found this message board, the instant I saw it, I remembered the clip, and more memories started flooding back, still vague, but vivid and definitely real. I was now more firmly convinced than I'd ever been before

that the violent version of the movie was real. The image was of the black kitten, Berlioz. His face nearly filled the frame, and his eyes were wide and terrified, red veins bulging, his fur standing up as if charged with electricity. The picture itself wasn't any more inherently disturbing than the grotesque fan art you can find for all kinds of different shows and movies, but unlike those other images, I knew this one had a genuinely sinister story of some kind behind it. As such, it haunted me like no other image ever had.

There were only a couple of replies on the thread, both of which were short and neither of which provided any more information about the image. I used Google Translate to try and ask the OP for more information, but never received a response. I performed a reverse image search of the file, but it returned no other results. However, a few weeks later, I finally got a reply to one of the emails. It was one I'd sent to the production. staff. The reply was to one of the emails I'd written that hinted more strongly at the reality of what I'd seen as a kid. The response was short and curt, but gave me new hope for finding answers. Hello, sorry for the late response, but I read between the lines of your message,

and if you've seen what I think you're hinting at, you need to look into the lost media group. That's all I'm going to say on the subject. A Google lost media group The closest thing I could find was a website for an online club called Lost Media Society It was a site for media enthusiasts to collect, trade, sell by and discuss lost media Including lost episodes, as in real lost episodes

That simply never aired Not the urban legend ones that contain surreal, or disturbing or even supernatural content This community was interesting in its own right and I became involved with it, eventually even becoming a site moderator. Once I was established as a respected regular, I decided to PM one of the head admins and ask him about the Lost Episodes legend. He responded that he had heard of it, but it wasn't really something the site dealt with.

He recalled that in the past it had been talked about, and some had even suggested banning discussion about it since it was seen as a spam topic after a while. I asked if he knew about an organisation. called the Lost Media Group. He said he had heard of it, but didn't know anything about it, and suggested that I contact a certain other admin who knew more about this entity. I messaged this admin and got a response within the hour. He told me the Lost Media Group was the group alleged by some to be behind the Lost Episodes phenomenon.

According to him, they produced not just altered versions of movies and television episodes, but were also said to make their own versions of other media such as video games, games and comic books. He said he didn't know much else about them, other than that some lost media collectors were willing to pay large sums for an authentic work by this group, and that before the Lost Media Society had banned discussion of lost episodes, some of these collectors had asked about them on the site. I asked if he could ever refer me to such a collector. He said my best bet would be a certain retired site admin who was no longer active in the lost media society.

He linked me a couple of archive threads by this individual asking about lost episodes and gave me the man's email address. Well, I shot him an email asking about his interest in lost episodes, and even went as far as to directly ask if he knew about a lost episode type version of the Aristot case. Part three. A few months went by with no response. During this time, I researched as much as I could about lost episodes. I found out about another of...

alleged lost episode of the Flintstones. The story behind this episode was much like other lost episode stories. A special episode of the show aired on an otherwise unused television channel and had gory and surreal content. The main difference between this story and the others were that this one had a somewhat credible outside source. The original forum post had a link to a digitally archive local news article from 1979.

The FCC had received complaints from dozens of people claiming to have seen the episode. The complaints came from the Lake Kabetogama region of Minnesota, with most originating from a couple of specific lake resorts. The incident was locally known as the Cabetogama broadcast. I decided the next logical step was to contact the FCC for more details. They responded within a week saying that, unfortunately, they were not at liberty to give out such information. At that moment I considered filing a freedom of information that request, but decided to take a different route. One of the two lake resorts most heavily involved with the incident was still in operation. I scheduled a vacation from work, and a few weeks later I was

on my way to Lake Cabotagama. Clex Cove was a collection of 15 cabins, a bar restaurant, and a small boat dock with boats available for lease. I'd rented an old A-frame unit and planned to stay for two weeks. The resort was a nice place to do. to say. I spent a few days fishing and seeing local attractions. I fell in with a group of regulars who fished at the resort every year. We went on several boat trips before I had enough courage to ask the oldest of them about the Kabetigama broadcast. Oh, that, funny thing. I actually just missed out on that whole thing. Happened out a week before I stayed here in the summer of 79. Heard a lot about it, though. You all wanted to talk to Ed about it. He was there.

He was referring to Egg Cleck, the founder and proprietor of Cleck's Cove. I considered asking him about the broadcast before, but wanted to feel out the locals first. However, at this point I decided I was being overly cautious and chose to follow the man's advice. Ah, Mr. Cleck was in his late 70s, but his memory was still sharp. He liked to tell stories, and I took advantage of this by starting a conversation with him about the history of the resort and the lake. This got him going for a couple of hours before I brought up the Cabetagama broadcast. How why do you want to know about that? He asked, seeming taken aback.

I told him I'd read about it on the internet and what the story said. He shrugged and said, Ah well, that's pretty much what happened. Nothing much else to tell, really. I asked if he'd seen the episode, to which he responded that he'd caught the end of the broadcast after being told it was happening. He said he saw Barney die a horrible and bloody death in some false stone-aged contraption, but didn't remember much else.

He was reluctant to continue the conversation much further, but assured me that the incident was very real indeed. I pondered all I'd learned on my drive home. I'd been left with more questions and answers, and didn't seem to be getting any closer to tracking down the Aristocats lost recording. The more I learned, the more new questions came up. What was the disturbing Aristocrats version I'd seen connected to the Cabetagama broadcast, or the alleged Batman and Robin last episode?

Or was I making connections where none were? Did that person on YouTube who claimed to have seen the Batman lost episode really see it? Or had he just been trolling me? Oh, surely all these claims couldn't be coincidental. But there was no explanation for the existence of these last episodes. While I was churning all this information over in my mind, I didn't notice the vehicle behind me until it was right up on my bumper. I swerved as it made contact and careened into a ditch.

The other car drove by without stopping. I wasn't injured. In fact, my airbag hadn't even been deployed, but I sat in shock for many, many minutes afterwards. When I finally got my bearings, I called 911 and told them my location based on the nearest mile marker. It took about 45 minutes for a state officer to find me. I told the police what had happened, but wasn't able to provide details such as the make and

colour of the car that had hit me or their license plates. I didn't tell them what business I was on, or my lingering suspicion that the incident had to do with my investigation of the broadcast. Part 4. Despite this experience, I decided to stick my neck out a little more. This was getting serious, and I needed a clear picture of what I was up against. I had an acquaintance in the FBI who owed my family. the favor of a lifetime. I convinced him, over dinner that I paid for, to look into the

lost media group for me. A few weeks later, he had a document for me. It was an analyst's report containing all the information the FBI had on this mysterious group. The information known by the Bureau about the Lost Media Group is so scant as to strongly suggest that the group does not really exist. This report assumes the existence of the group for investigative purposes, however most of the information contained herein is more speculation than confirm fact. Most of the testimony concerning the LMG has been hearsay and off the record. The exact nature, size, organization, origins and goals of the LMG are mysterious. It is said to be a multinational organization that is embedded in multiple entertainment industries

and is most active in cities with large concentrations of entertainment companies, such as Los Angeles, New York City, Atlanta, Toronto, and Tokyo. Membership is by invitation only and is rumored to include a number of wealthy entertainment executives and finance use. Secondhand informants report that the group uses a variety of criminal tactics, including bribery, blackmail and violence, to prevent the dissemination of information concerning them. It is speculated that the LMG uses other crime syndicates as proxies for their operations in order to obfuscate investigations into their activities, and that they mislead people into believing they are more people. powerful than they really are. Claims that the group possesses supernatural powers are likely the

result of selective disinformation campaigns. The Lost Media Group first came to the Bureau's attention during the 1970s, but is set to date back to the early 1900s. During the 1920s and 1930s, an urban legend emerged concerning mystery reels, which were said to be altered versions of syndicated movie theater reels that differed significantly in content and tone from the standard copies. The Bureau believes that the lack of public awareness of entertainment industry standards and copyright contributed to the fact that such works were not reported to the media or law enforcement. A recurring theme in testimony concerning mystery reels is that they often contain violent content that was more extreme than mainstream theatre content,

and several former members of censorship boards have claimed to have received complaints about them. Witnesses also claimed that mystery reels based on live-action films featured different actors, and these actors in retrospect seem to have been coerced. Maudwin disclaimed that an actor in a silent mystery reel appeared to be saying, help me, before being silenced by someone off-screen. These claims have led the Bureau to believe that the LM may have participated in trafficking in human beings. The group's also rumored to have been involved in the production and distribution of snuff films, though there is as little evidence to support this claim as there is to support the very existence of snuff movies.

Other crimes the Lost Media Group is suspected to be involved with include media piracy, drugging of actors, trafficking in endangered species for use in films, and recording executions for other criminal organizations. I pondered over the report. Membership by invitation only. Well funded, well connected, must be well organized. Yet their activities seem nothing short of bizarre. Why would a group with the group would, the kind of resources this group apparently had, unlike the FBI, I was beginning to take the existence of the LM for granted at this point, not spend them on more traditional and profitable criminal activities. Why would that many people commit so many resources and risk so much just to make movies? There was no way such a sophisticated syndicate could make enough money off of simple piracy to be considered profitable, and the other crimes listed in the report was seen beyond the scope of expertise of a cabal ostensibly comprised of people in the entertainment industry.

Was it not about money? An ideological or religious motivation perhaps? Certainly it didn't fit any religion I could think of, and it didn't seem like they were interested in influencing elections. Their motives must be subtler. They had a message they wanted to send, or an influence they wanted to create, using the power of mass media and were willing to dabble in any number of crimes toward whatever their ultimate end was. Part 5 A few weeks later I received a reply from the former Lost Media Society admin, the one who was said to be attempting to collect lost episodes.

He told me he was not aware of an aris to Kat's lost episode version, but that he was nevertheless now in possession of several lost episode copies and was willing to show them to me for a price. To be exact, he wanted a thousand dollars. I agreed, without hesitation. I wasn't at a point in my life where I could comfortably spend a thousand dollars on anything, let alone a prospect that something might not deliver, but I was afraid trying to talk him down to a lower offer would make him break contact,

and something in my gut told me his claims at least were sincere. He gave me the address of a secluded cabin he said he would rent for the purpose, which was several states away. He said to come alone, he gave me the exact date he expected me there. I was a little put off by his curt tone, but figured he was paranoid of someone stealing his collection, or worse being hunted down by the people who made the items. I prepared for the trip and left immediately.

When I arrived in the state where the cabin was, I was still a couple of days until our meeting date, and so I checked into a hotel. I was up late, watching TV in my hotel room with the lights off. when I found a channel playing the Aristercats. It was in the middle of the movie, but I kept watching. I grew nervous. I'd already watched the whole movie and knew there was nothing unwholesome in the standard version,

but the setting. Alone in the dark, with just the light of the TV, was strongly reminiscent of my traumatic virgin experience with the feature. Soon though, my unease turned to comfort, I realized there was nothing to fear. Sure, at this point I was convinced that somewhere out there existed a violent and twisted version of the Aristocats, one which I had been unfortunate enough to somehow see as a child, but that didn't matter. It couldn't hurt me now. I laughed as I realized I now had the chance to relive the memory without the trauma.

So I grabbed a snack and continued watching in the dark, for once able to enjoy the film as it was intended to be enjoyed. I was able to appreciate what a truly great movie. it was, how much effort was put into the animation and voices, how great even the music was. The soundtrack was a little distorted, though. As I turned up the volume to hear it better, I realised it wasn't the TV. The music became faster and more distorted, and the scene began morphing into abstract images. I heard screams from the TV, and disturbing images too brief to make out clearly flashed on the screen. This all ended with the still image of burlions, the one I'd found on the internet with his

eyes bloodshot. On the image were two words in red caps. Stop asking. The screen then went to black. I said in total darkness, my body quaking, tears and snot running down my face, hardly able to catch breath. I turned on the lights, threw up in the bathroom and switched the channel. All the stations were playing normal television, which was somewhat comforting, but I still checked out of the hotel and went to a different one. At this point, I considered giving up the hunt. My first goal had been

to find out if lost episodes were real, and I'd certainly achieved at least that. Whether going further and finding out the exact nature and origin of them was worth it was becoming an increasingly dubious prospect. Whoever was behind them had powers and resources to seriously threaten me. I didn't know if full closure was worth risking my neck any further for. In the end, I decided to keep going, though. I was close now, and if there was some secret, powerful group behind all these lost episode stories, the world needed to know.

Who were they to try and intimidate me into giving up? No, I wouldn't give up the hunt. At that moment I doubled down in my determination. At the appointed time, I showed up at the cabin. It was night and the moon flooded the lonely cabin in an eerie glow. There was a vehicle in the driveway, but the lights were out and there were no other signs of occupancy. I timidly went up and knocked on the door.

Without turning on any lights, the man greeted me. For his own safety, I will not describe the man safe to say that he appeared middle-aged. Oh, you were serious about this. Good. Do you have the money? I gave him the wallet of cash. He turned on a lamp and counted it out, and then motioned for me to follow him to another room. He closed the door behind him before turning on the lights.

The room had a high ceiling and nature paintings on the wall, along with a single shelf of old books that were clearly there for decoration. Centred on one of the walls was a large plasma television, There was a lot of space, but the man himself had only put a couple of chairs and some plastic storage tubs on the floor. So, here's my collection. It ain't very big, but you'll have a hard time finding these items anywhere else. Sorry to have to charge you so much, but you've got to realize I'm taking a huge risk by showing you this stuff.

You've got to make it worth my while. I trembled with anticipation. At last, I was about to have some real concrete answers. answers. Like I said in my email, I don't have, nor have I previously heard of, an Aristocrat's video made by these people, but from how you described it, I completely believe you saw it. If it's right in with the kind of thing they would make.

He continued. By they, you mean the lost media group, they interjected. Yep. They'd be behind this thing you saw, along with that Batman lost episode, if it indeed exists. though I haven't been able to find it myself, but again, wouldn't be surprised. I don't know what their goal is in making these things, but they're interesting as hell, so I collect them. I asked if he could share some of his contacts, but he flatly refused.

I only give that information to trusted friends, and even if you were one of them, I'd make you pay more than you could afford. Please don't ask me that again. You're lucky I even agreed to show you my collection. I was a little flustered by his tone, so I just nodded. Then we got back down to business. He opened one of the stubs and pulled out a VCR, along with a black VHS tape with a white label that read Pink Panther in black Sharpie.

He hooked up the VCR, inserted the tape, and played it. It was a lost episode from the Pink Panther cartoon series, which was a show consisting of short sketches, around five or six minutes each, with the Pink Panther going on various solo adventures and getting into trouble with other characters and situations, which he manages with his superior mastery of cartoon physics. There's never any dialogue,

save for the occasional wordless exclamation or babbled nonsense, like in the Tom and Jerry cartoons, and every short has the Pink Panther theme playing throughout. I'd watched a little of the show as a kid, but didn't have many memories of it. This episode was called Forty Shades of Pink. which I assumed was upon on how Ireland is said to have forty shades of green.

Since this was a St. Patrick's Day-themed episode, it took place in a green land that, while not explicitly identified as island, was obviously supposed to be the Emerald Island, or at least some generic insular Celtic fantasy land. The short involved the Pink Panther trying to steal a pot of gold from a leprechaun, or rather the recurring little man character dressed as one. As the Pink Panther was walking over a rainbow like a bridge, a storm cloud caused it to disappear from under his feet.

He fell, and there was a sickening, crunching sound. The Pink Panther was shown bleeding out on the ground, bones jutting out. Then he saw the lepricorn's pot and crawled over to it. Despite his injuries, a smile of victory crawled across his face. As he peered down into the pot, the lepricorn appeared from behind and pushed him in, closing a lid over him and then roasting him alive over a fire. The episode ended with the sound of the Pink Panther screaming. Lame, I thought.

Someone basically took the Pink Panther cartoon and gave it the itchy and scratchy treatment. It was somewhat disturbing that whoever did it clearly had access to the original animation resources to make it look exactly like a real episode, but overall it was underwhelming compared to what I was expecting. The next item was a copy of the Lion King. this time it was a proper factory copy with a retail jacket the man told me the movie itself was normal but there was a special animated short at the end of the tape with

psychedelic properties he warned me that the experience would be far more intense than than pink panther tape and even asked me if I had any heart conditions despite his warnings I insisted on going through with it he refused to fast forward to the shot saying he wanted to keep the tapes from warping even though he had the footage digitally archived. After the credits, there were some special features,

including some animated shorts I'd never seen before. When the title appeared for a short called The Lion, the man paused and asked once again if I was sure I wanted to proceed. I nodded, and he played it. The short featured what was apparently a version of Scar, but the art style was completely different. It was a 2D animation,

but somehow much more realistic than Pixar animation. It's hard to explain. It wasn't like CGI realism, but there was so much detail and effort put into the character that it gave the impression of realism while still being paradoxically fantastical. The clip Showska walking around a white background before stopping to face the viewer.

The camera began slowly zooming in on his face and his eyes began glowing red, threatening jungle music began playing. Suddenly I became very nervous. A vicious grimace emerged from Scar's face, the kind of predator makes before striking. His mouth opened wide, showing rows of sharp teeth, and I heard realistic growling sounds. His face wrinkled in a pattern consistent with the face a lion makes before, pouncing. My nervousness turned to terror.

My gaze was transfixed on the screen, and I couldn't look away. I knew it was only animated, and even if it wasn't, the lion couldn't. get to me through the screen, but I was paralysed as if facing a real predator. I was in a trance, one that didn't break until scar jumped and I screamed for my life. I kept screaming until the man shook me out of it. Sorry about that, he said, but I did warn you. Once I got my bearings back, I asked for the next item. He gave me a puzzled look as if he'd expected me just to give up and want to go home after

the last tape. but he shrugged and got the next one. There was another home VH tape labeled Super Bowl 2000. This one won't do anything to you like the Lion video, but it's disturbing in what it shows. In fact, I'll just tell you what it is. This tape shows a riot that didn't happen. If you didn't know, there were no sports riots at the 2000 Super Bowl,

certainly not in the stadium itself. But the tape shows just that. Once again, the man refused to skip to the interesting part to preserve the integrity of the tape. In the third quarter, a referee made a call that didn't sit well with the Titans fans, and someone threw a bottle of beer. More people started throwing things, and it escalated into a full-scale riot in which spectators swarm the field and attacked each other. You could see the majority of the crowd slowly evacuating the venue, while a small but determined segment began vandalizing the place and having sporadic brawls.

There was no commentary at this point, just raw stadium footage that is cycled through the various venue cameras. About 20 minutes into the riot, the tape ended. This tape didn't cause me to experience abject terror like the last one. In fact, the riot hadn't been that bad compared to other sports riots I'd seen, but I found it disturbing on a deeper level. The fact that they could alter a recording of a sports event to make it show something that so blatantly didn't happen in reality terrified me. It could only have done it in one of two ways, with editing techniques that were well beyond what was publicly known to the world, or with some type of magic.

I still asked to see the next item. The man said it was the last one. It was a plug-and-play video game this time. The man explained that the Lost Media Group was known to dabble in other mediums besides movies and television, and that in particular they were said to produce a of lost video games, though this was the only one he'd been able to acquire. The game was labelled Pokemon, Black Carbonites. I actually remembered hearing about Nintendo making a Pokemon plug-and-play game. It was cancelled, but I didn't know if that was the title. The thing was black and bore a white image of Pikachu, sporting a menacing grin.

I'm not going to let you play this. I myself will never play it again. This thing will mess you up and is downright dangerous. You can examine the hardware, though. I took it from him and did so. The first thing I noticed to one closer inspection was a fissure in the control pad. A lot of force had been applied to make the crack. Then I noticed that some of the plastic was warped, melted.

I looked at the man. He gave me a look back. A look of understanding that there was nothing more that needed to be said. I handed the game back to him. The man said some goodbye formalities, put his hand over my shoulder, and aggressively led me to the door, closing and locking it behind me. He never saw my camera. During the lion's short, I'd managed to snap a quick digital photo on the TV screen while the man wasn't looking, and had put the camera back away before the whole bad acid trip thing. I had the photo enlarged and enhanced and studied it.

It was still frightening even without the psychedest. properties of the animated short. Again, despite being a cartoon, it had such detail and realism that it seemed more alive than I thought a cartoon could. Part 6. I did some research on art and animation

styles and learned that this technique was known as hyperrealism. The style intended to give intense lifelike detail using traditional non-digital art methods. Some pieces of this genre are almost indistinguishable from photographs. The lion wasn't quite that realistic.

You could still tell easy enough that it was a cartoon, yet it was somehow as visually striking as a real photo of a lion. I continued my research, now focusing on finding people who were knowledgeable about this art form. I narrowed my search down to a few academics and animators and emailed them the lion still. I got a response from one expert saying the style reminded him of Johann Straub, an Austrian artist and animator who had moved to the United States in the 1930s.

He'd worked for Disney briefly before starting his own animation studio. He was known for his bizarre, deconstructionist approach to animation and had started his own small anti-art movement of sorts. Animators and cartoonists trained at his studio produced their own bizarre works which often included violent and grotesque themes, despite the fact that the studio ostensibly marketed to children. The email went on to explain that Straubble became increasingly obsessed with magic and the occult during his career. He became less and less functional until the studio was forced to close due to bankruptcy.

Curiously, the studio was known to produce only a handful of original works of its own. Apparently the animators had spent a lot of time deconstructing and replicating the works of other companies, mainly Disney since they were the only major animation studio at the time, and altering them to make them surreal or disturbing. This would have opened the company up to piracy claims, except that they never sold such works to the public, instead gifting them to a handful of collectors within the anti-art elite community. Strubble had also self-published a book,

a manual of sorts which contained prints of some of his still cartoons and instructions on his technique. It was simply titled Animation Deconstructed. I immediately determined to read it, but it took me ages to find a copy. I managed to track one down at a public library headquarters three states away. The book was in their special archive collection, so I couldn't get it through Inter-Library Lone. I had to drive there, where they'd allow me to examine it in their archive reading room. The room was sparse, dusty and poorly lit.

It had the feel of a 1950s police interrogation room. I was allowed to read the book of interest at the single table under the supervision of a librarian. It was yellowed and the jacket was wrapped in a protective plastic. The volume was short enough to read in an hour. Strobble was not as good at English as he was at drawing, so the self-published aspect really showed in the numerous grammar errors. There were a couple of dozen prints in the book, all made in his unique hyper-realistic style. Again, they weren't photorealistic like other artists in the genre, but had a depth of detail and perspective that made them appear alive all the same.

None of them did anything paranormal or anything like that, but there was one that managed to seriously frighten me. It was a cartoon snake, a cobra, with its fangs, bared and a menacing look in its eyes. You know how some paintings of people have the eyes painted in such a way as to give the impression of the subject's gaze following you, as you view it from different angles well this piece didn't do that but it had some similar thing going on where the eyes of the snake appeared to bore right into you straight through the page i felt like the snake was going to strike up and dig its fangs into my arm i didn't have a trippy experience like with the lion animation but it was surreal and unnerving in addition to sections on art technique strouble had also included a number of seemingly randomly placed

critiques of the state of animation that could generously be described as educated rants. The frequent target of his criticisms was Walt Disney, whom he decried as an amateur buffoon who was holding back the animation medium from its true potential. The author went on to emphasize the need to be bold and daring in animation and willing to push social taboos. I returned the volume to the librarian. I hadn't discovered anything that would help me with my search for the, the Aristocrats tape, but at least I'd come away with some interesting insights into the philosophy

of the man who may have been behind it all. My next step was to visit Strubble's studio, which involved yet another cross-country road trip. I started to wonder how much gas money I would have ended up spending by the time of my search for that dumb video had ended. Was it really cheaper than flying? At least the studio was still standing, though I'd arrived anticipating that anything of major interest would have been looted decades ago. Still, I held out hope as I pulled into a shopping centre parking lot. The rest of my journey would have been on foot since the studio had predated modern roads.

I crossed the interstate, there being only light traffic, and found and followed the old dirt road that would have been the sole source of vehicle traffic back then. By now it was largely overgrown, and I cursed myself for not. bringing a machete. It took me two hours to reach the location. It was a one-story building with its windows boarded up and foliage growing all around it. I walked the perimeter, looking for a way in that wouldn't open me up to charges of breaking and entering, though I seriously doubted anyone would ever know or care that I'd been here in any case. To my disappointment, no entryway had been left by previous urban explorers, and I had to hack away the boards of one

window with a hatchet. Well, it may have been easier to smash down the door, but that felt somewhat less ethical. There was, of course, no source of light, except the now open window way. But I had had the foresight to bring three high-powered LED lamps in my backpack, which I now set up around the floor, relieved that I didn't see anything scurrying or slithering. The place seemed smaller on the inside, barely more spacious than my basement at home. there was no furniture except a couple of broken easels on the floor well they probably sold off the tables and desk to pay off their debts i thought some scuff marks were visible on the wooden floor there was a low wooden partition that sectioned off a small segment of the room i guessed that this was where the administrative desk had been while the rest of the floor was used for the actual animation work Well, like I said, I hadn't really been expecting to find anything important, but it was still

disappointing. I spent the next couple of hours pacing the floor, wondering if the whole trip had been a waste of time and mileage. I was about to pack up my lamps and leave when I discovered a trap-door behind the floor partition. I'd taken one of the lamps off the floor to perch it on top of the partition, and I'd had seen the outline of the trap-door along with its hinges and the line. latch. The door was about three feet by two feet. I grew excited and opened it. Annoyingly, the door

didn't appear to have a mechanism for staying open, and was too heavy for me to hold up. I had to back out through the window and back several times just to bring some rocks to prop it up, but the contents of the compartment were worth it. The compartment was about three feet deep and contained what looked like diagrams for animation or film devices, along with various little parts, knobs, bolts, lenses and the like, all scattered at the bottom. I studied these with fascination, but could make neither head nor tail of the schematics. I tried fitting some of the parts together with no success. I decided against taking these items with me. I'd rationalised that violating the law by entering this place unlawfully was worth pulling back the curtain on whatever

had caused my childhood trauma, but these items were unlikely to be of value to that end. thus stealing them from my own curiosity would go beyond the bounds of that justification. However, I did photograph each one of them just in case. Part 7 The next few months were uneventful. Once again I felt like I'd hit a dead end. I took a break from the mission and focused on life's obligations. I just managed to comfortably put the lost episode search on the back burner and feel contented

when I received an email with the subject, What you've been looking for. I hesitated a good few minutes before opening the message. Hello, if you want answers, meet me at this address in time. Oh, my heart raced. This email wasn't from any of the addresses I'd messaged. I instinctively felt I was about to finally get closure

and was suddenly terrified. perhaps even more terrified than I'd been at any point before in this journey, more than when I was run off the road, more than when I was hypnotized by a cartoon lion, more than when I'd been threatened through the TV in a motel room. My hands were shaking so much I could hardly use the keyboard to navigate to a new tab and look up the address. It was an empty lot from an abandoned building that had been raised years ago. The Google Maps Street View looked somewhat foreboding, but it was within comfortable driving distance of my apartment,

which terrified me even more to realize the sender knew what city I lived in. Still, I asked off work for the specified date and was wracked with dread until it arrived, barely able to concentrate on my job, and drove to the lot three hours ahead of time, parking my car in the street as was typical for the neighbourhood. It was a sunny spring day, and the wind made me uncomfortable despite the warm weather. Each passing car made me apprehensive, particularly the ones that appeared to slow down. I had an overwhelming urge to drive away as the appointed time drew near.

When the car stopped the lot exactly at the time, I was surprised to see a woman get out. She had cropped red hair and appeared to be in her early 40s. She was wearing a black leather jacket and walked right up to me. She smiled slightly. Hi, you can call me Kathy. I'm from the group you've been looking for. I swallowed and rendered a quiet greeting. She didn't look threatening.

I had trouble imagining what could have possessed her to join an organisation like the Lost Media Group, but right now I had other things to be concerned with. Don't worry, this isn't a setup, she reassured, reading my apprehension. If we wanted to do you in, we could have and would have done it all. already.

So then, what do you want? I interjected. We want you to stop looking into us, she stated plainly. And to that end, I managed to convince the higher-ups to let me show you what you've been looking for so that you and we can put this behind us. You mean the Aristot Cat's video? I asked. She nodded.

For security reasons, we obviously can't just give it to you. The best I could. arranged was for you to be allowed to see it under supervision at one of the abandoned movie theatres were used to give private viewings of our works for select patrons we're about to leave that location anyway and needless to say you shouldn't even think about telling people we were ever there well i nodded and grunted if it meant finally getting answers i was willing to put up with a little more bullshit i hope you have the whole day free because the theater is several hours away it again, suspecting that she already knew the answer. We got in her car and were off. We drove in

silence for the first hour or so. Then I asked her why the group made lost episodes. She waited a few moments before answering. Well, I guess you could say we aim to challenge the status quo of programming and give animators a chance to really test their limits. That's why I join when the organisation invited me. And why do you leak them to the public if you want to keep them secret I prod it we don't leak them sometimes they just get out and people who weren't

intended to see them do I don't know how you ended up seeing one of our works as a kid but it wasn't supposed to be what about the Kabat-Gama broadcast some member of our organization was messing around when he wasn't supposed to or maybe it was a TV

broadcast only intended to be seen by members back when we were a little more lax about security Look, I said we'd show you what you've been looking for. Beyond that, I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to satisfy your curiosity about our inner workings. I was silent for a few more minutes. Her answers were suspect. The last media groups seemed like the type of group that would find pleasure in shocking and traumatizing random people with their twisted works.

And I didn't quite buy that all exposure to non-insiders was unintentional. I thought back to the FBI report. I also wondered if she was completely happy with the choice she'd made to join the organisation. Well, I've already seen part of your Aristercats edit recently, I finally said. Kathy pursed her lips, and I could see in her eyes that she was briefly considering whether it was worth trying to pretend she didn't know what I was talking about. She decided against it. Yeah, sorry about that, I guess, but I guess they figured if we gave you a good scare,

you might give up and leave us alone. I was annoyed at her choice of words, as if they were the ones who only wanted to be left at peace all the time. I could only wonder if it had been her idea. I also wondered if she knew I'd seen several of their other projects as well. When you visited Strollable's old studio, that was when we decided it was time to make a peace offering and get you off our back. The theatre appeared to be one of those many theatres that had been open during the 90s, Blockbuster Boom, and then abandoned during the 2000s. It was along the interstate, isolated from any other buildings.

We entered through a side door Kathy had a keyful. The lobby was unlit except for the sun outside. I could see a ticket counter, a concessions area, and posters for old blockbusters on the wall. Covering the floor was carpeting of a faded colourful pattern. Adjacent to the small food court was an empty room that I guess used to be the video arcade. Kathy told me to give her my phone, which I did.

She then escorted me down the gallery hallway to the last gallery. She asked me if I was sure I wanted to see this. I answered yes, and she said I could sit anywhere I wanted. I chose a seat near the back while she went up to run the projector. I began to feel scared. Sitting there in the dark abandoned gallery was very reminiscent of sitting in the dark watching the arister cats all those years ago, except that all the extra space made it even more ominous.

When the feature started, I could tell immediately that the audio was off. It sounded shrieky and low quality. Otherwise, the movie was normal up until the point when the butler decided to get rid of the cats. Instead of drugging them and leaving them abandoned like in the normal movie, he drowned them in the river. It went downhill from there. Suddenly I was a five-year-old boy again, watching in horror as characters were mutilated, decapitated and burned,

all while strange visual and audio effects were applied. One particularly shocking scene featured real footage of cats attacking and killing a man. In real-time lines were drawn over the scene, covering it in sketchwork until it had become a completely animated version of itself. It was done with such an... absolute perfection of technique that I was sure Straubel must have done that bit himself. I eventually got a grip and was able to sit through the rest of the thing calmly. It wasn't pleasant, but I was at least relieved to finally be getting it over with.

When it was over, I think I had tears in my eyes. Kathy drove me back to the empty lot, and it was dark by the time we arrived. Before I got out, she spoke to me one last time. Now, listen to me. You found what you were looking for, and now that you have, you need to let it go. I took a big risk even pushing to let you in behind the scenes for that brief moment. If you continue pursuing information about our organization,

we'll have to take more drastic measures. We exchanged goodbyes, and she drove off. For years I kept my end of the agreement and never speak a word about our encounter to anyone. However, recently I've been reconsidering the bargain. A few days ago someone reached out to me on the web, asking me for information on lost episodes. They claim to have seen one as a child and are hoping to find closure from their experience. I'm debating with myself whether it's worth letting them in on the secret,

or if it would be better for their own sake if I convinced them that they imagined the whole thing. And so once again, we reach the end. end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.