Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - 3 Dark Web Horror Stories (Compilation of September 2021)

Episode Date: September 14, 2021

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She knows. How? Did you blouse? No. The Devil Wears Prada 2. He's the movie event 20 years in the making. Honestly, can't with the secrets anymore, so I think we just should tell her. Will you two please spit it out already?

This Friday, be the first to experience it only in theaters. In light of the recent scandal, I'm here to restore your credibility. Oh, because we're a team now? That's a nice story. The Devil Where's Prada 2 in Theaters Friday. I stared at my bright computer screen. eyes felt heavy and my fingers trembled nervously with each key press. We'd already been awake for more than five days, during which time, 28 players had died.

I don't want to die. Lewis typed into the chat. I'm not so sure you will. There's only the two of us left. I can't keep this up much longer. The game seemed so simple. A competition to see who could stay awake the longest, and the winner would receive enough money to last a lifetime.

For someone like myself, without a social life, nor a job to attend, attend, it was the perfect opportunity. 30 players had received an invitation, all active participants of an international dark web forum. We were just required to fill in some necessary information, including a Bitcoin wallet to where the money would be sent. After clicking submit, I was given a time and a list of simple rules to follow. Number one, both your web camera and microphone must be activated for the entire duration of the

competition. Number two, there won't be any bathroom breaks. accordingly. Number three, you're not allowed to seek out the physical location of the other contestants. Number four, there can only be one winner. As I eagerly awaited for the first bit of excitement I'd seen in months, I stocked up on the necessary supplies, mostly energy drinks, snacks, and a bucket. Once the time of the competition started, I clicked the provided link. I was faced with a black screen, consisting of 30 names and a chat box. I could gain access to each of the competitor's camera feed, by clicking on their username, but the chat itself was global.

I guess no one here speaks English? Insomnia 90 said. A few of the participants responded with broken sentences. It seemed that out of the 30 members of the chat, only myself and Insomnia 90 were native speakers. Two days went by in the blink of an eye, and seven players had already left the game in silence. I spent most of my time watching movies and chatting to Insomnia 90,

who I'd come to know as Lewis. He was a Canadian university student on break, bored out of his mind. Hey, check out the German guy. He's about to pass out, Lewis said. I clicked on the username. It would be the first participant we'd actually see falling asleep. His eyes were already half closed,

and his body shifted towards the edge of his chair. We chuckled at the guy, as we got one step closer to victory. Not long after, his consciousness wandered off the edge, and he fell into a deep pit of sleep. Only a second passed, before his eyes shot back open in a horrified panic,

As he clutched his ears and screamed in agony, his body started twitching uncontrollably in all the wrong directions, and blood poured from his nose and ears. It looked as if his brain had been scrambled to pieces inside his own head. Within a minute, he fell over dead, his face softly resting on the keyboard. What the fuck was that? I asked. Is he dead? Lewis replied. I frantically started clicking on every other username, checking if anyone else was about to fall asleep. Check the Swedish one, I said.

Sure enough, he drifted off number one. more than a minute earlier. Suddenly his eyes shot open, and he seized, just like the German had before him. Another minute, and he just added to the rapidly growing pile of corpses. We warned the others as best we could. Only a few of them seemed to get the message, each getting out from their chairs in an attempt at fleeing. Alas, no sooner had they decided to run before they dropped down the floor. Oh fuck, oh God, we're going to die, aren't we? Lewis asked. I guess only the winner survives, I tucked back. Three days passed. During that time, we made numerous attempts at contacting the outside world. Phone calls, emails, messages, they were all blocked. Lewis and I were the only

players left, keeping each other awake as we searched and despair for a way out. I already ran out of supplies, so if sleep deprivation didn't get me, dehydration would. Then I noticed that Lewis hadn't spoken in a few minutes. Lewis, no, wake the fuck up. I called out to no avail. He had already died. As he left the game, I was declared the winner. 29 people had died, and I was gifted an unfathomable amount of cash. Since then, I've been searching for Lewis's family. Even if they weren't close, I want them to know that he was a good person up until the end. I'm so sorry. I wish it had been me.

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faces on an embassy security feed to hide their involvement in the assassination of a journalist. Remember the two women who contaminated and killed the North Korean madman's half-brother in the airport? Those women were originally a pair of North Korean goons, but I removed them and set up that pair of lady stooges to take the fall. My ethics are porous, and my greed is insatiable. In October of last year, I was hired to deepfake some footage. A black ops team had infiltrated a top secret lab in China and stolen some highly virulent bio-weapon. The lab itself wasn't the problem. The team consisted of professional ghosts, entering and exiting like invisible ninjas, not a trace left behind.

in the lab's hardwired net. But then the team leader did something so stupid, so outside his mission scope, that I was brought in for damage control, before any possible leaks, caused a tsunami of geopolitical fallout. He met in Shanghai the following day at the Ritz Carlton, with somebody well known in the world of presidential politics.

This figure, traveling under the name Randall Mariani, is a former NYC mayor who now pursues shadow diplomacy for the current administration. Anyway, this guy was caught on security cameras in the last lobby, exchanging envelopes with the leader of the infiltration team. I was hired that night by a shell company operating out of the Cayman Islands that goes by the name of deluxe deepfake.com. They wanted every piece of digital evidence tying these two people together to be deepfaked, replacing the former NYC mayor with the son of the president's political opponent in the upcoming

election. It left a bad taste to my mouth, but the money being thrown at me was enough to buy mouthwash in industrial-sized drums. However, That money never came through. Because the moment I finished my deep fake, my computer suddenly fried, from motherboard to monitor, dead. Then power to my house was cut. Then the guys in black, those same invisible ninjas that hit the Chinese lab came busting through my windows. I'm alive because I work in a basement with an escape hatch.

I snuck away. Now I live day by day, constantly looking over my shoulder. Coronavirus is spreading throughout the world. Someday I'll get back online and reverse my deep fig. The world needs to know. Fan of soccer, you could assist at a moment historic. You could gain the bill for the final of the Cup of the World of the FIFA 2006 with Visa.

It's just to have a card of credit visa BMO for participate. Inscribe you at BMO.com bar obliq concourse. The reglements of the concourse is applicable. My dad was the greatest man I ever knew. He never shied away from helping others. And always offered an ear when people. needed to talk. When he was taken away from us at the young age of 41, it destroyed my family. Last week, I spoke to him again, and now I wish I hadn't. I'll be the first to admit,

the Deep Web always scared me. I expected some illegal set of websites for drugs, weapons, and human trafficking. In reality, it's little more than a bunch of obscure forums, sprinkled with the occasional leaked email password. Every now and then, you might be lucky enough to find a gold nugget in the stream of useless shit. If you're anything like me, you might even enjoy the feudal search. The one time I actually stumbled across something worthwhile, it scarred me for life. It was a page called Mortex, a forum with thousands of active users, all seeming to search for specific people. Looking for Jack Glover, 1956 to 2003, passed from pancreatic cancer, the top thread said. It was an odd task, searching for someone that had died so long ago. I present.

I presumed they were distant relatives looking for a gravestone. But once I browsed through the comments, it piqued my curiosity. It was odd, searching for someone that had died so long ago. I figured they were trying to find a lost family member's grave or something. Another thread read. Oh my God, Hannah, I can't believe you found me. At that moment, I figured it was some sort of roleplay forum. Each thread followed the same formula,

someone seeking to speak with lost loved ones. Despite my instinct saying it was all make-believe, I decided to post my own search. Looking for Clark Henderson, 1969 to 2010, passed from cardiac arrest. That was the name of my dad. He was the one person I'd give anything to see again, after he unexpectedly died from a heart attack. To my surprise, I only had to wait a couple of minutes before someone left a comment. Henri, it said, along with a voice chat invitation, my hands shook so much that I could barely navigate the menu. Before long, I was connected, and an all too familiar voice called my name.

Henry, it's really you, isn't it? It was bullshit. It had to be. Yet, the voice I heard clearly belonged to my dead father. Dad, how was this? I stopped dead in my tracks. I love you so much, Henry, and I'm sorry for leaving you. I should have gotten my heart checked, but I just didn't know. I felt fine up until the moment I died. It's not your fault, but, but how do I know this? How do I is real. How do I know it's really you? When you were three, you attempted to make dinner. You didn't know about the concept of pots and pans, so you just threw the vegetables directly on the stove. He chuckled, cutting the story short. Right, just as I'd forgotten about that, I said. You almost burned the house down, he continued. I've tried to tell people this story

before, but you made me swear an oath of secrecy. I felt myself tearing up just by the sound of his voice. Unfortunately, curiosity overwhelmed my sense of nostalgia. I have so many questions. I don't even know where to begin, I said, as a thousand thoughts ran through my mind. Then it hit me. The situation didn't just entail my personal quarrels with life. No, it was so much bigger. I could ask any question about what came after death. After much contemplation, I finally landed on a simple, yet horrifying question. Dad, where are you? I asked. Henry, please don't, he trailed off. Don't what? I replied.

They don't like it when you ask. He froze. I should have stopped then and there, but I couldn't. I just need to know what comes after, please, I said. My dad paused. Henry, I'm sorry. Sorry about what? I asked. Heaven, hell, it's not real.

This place, whatever it is. It's not what I thought. The creatures, they're using us. We're just spare parts waiting to be... Our voice channel cut out, and my dad's voice vanished. I tried to call him back. I tried to message. I even attempted to make a new thread.

But he was just gone. Before I spoke to him, I was never afraid of death. Now that I've heard the fear and the voice of my dead father, I'm terrified. Lazzang sur-joled, Pruise Minutes. We'd say that's their dojo. Pre-to-Jewy!

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