Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - 3 Text Messaging Horror Stories

Episode Date: May 11, 2021

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Talk to nicely. Hey guys, big shout out to my newest patrons this week, Little Big Frogs, Fernando, and Slayin. Thank you guys so much. Be sure to check out all my previous bonus episodes now that you guys have full access. For those of you who'd like to get access to these bonus episodes, go over to my Patreon page at patreon.com slash DR No Sleep,

or click the link in the podcast description. Now time for the story. I am a DJ on a small internet radio show every Saturday morning. It doesn't pay much, but I love it. the job. I enjoy interacting with my listeners and playing any song requests they have during my broadcasts. This particular Saturday, I was taking text requests for songs. My show started like every other one did. I was getting requests and sorting through the ones I wanted to play. All of a sudden, a new number I didn't recognize started spamming my texts. Great, I thought,

another spam number from an asshole with nothing better to do. After spamming random letters and numbers, the person suddenly wrote in perfect English. Can you tell you? a joke on air? Then another text came through from the same number. Can you tell a joke on air? I thought this request was a little weird. I had never done a non-musical request before. I thought to myself, what could go wrong? And came up with a cheesy joke. Once the song that was playing finished, I proceeded to tell the joke. How do you make a tissue dance? You put a little boogie in it. I nervously laughed to my own joke and clicked play on the next song. Can you dance for me? was the next text I received from the number. At the next possible interval, as I introduced my next

song, I added in a quick line. To the listener out there asking me to dance, don't worry, I'm dancing right now. It was a lie, but I didn't see the harm until my phone went off again. Can you dance for me? This time, no cheating. I looked around me. I was definitely alone in the room. I moved my shoulders a little into an awkward dad dance. That's better. I was getting quite anxious. The chat for my a show was going mad, but I couldn't focus on that. I felt watched, like someone was around me. I tried to continue the show, but I started panicking. About 10 minutes before the show was due to finish, I got another message. Turn your mic off. There was no pleas this time. I noticed the niceties had gone. I wasn't going to be bullied. You have 30 seconds. The clock ticked,

and I felt the sweat roll off my face. I tried to calm down. What were they going to do? It was just a faceless person on the phone. Time's up. I turned around to face an empty room. I giggled to myself and sighed in relief. It was all just a joke, a lucky guess with the dancing. Relaxed, I swung back around in my chair to face my computer. Seconds later, I felt a cold knife against my throat. I should have listened.

Then my audience would never have had to hear my screams. I was awoken to the awful sound of a vibrating phone lying atop of a glass table. They were just short, recurring vibrations that signified that I had received yet another text. message. I always tried to put my phone on silent mode before bed, so it surprised me, to say the least. Unwillingly, I dragged my tired body out of bed and walked a few feet into the living room. There it lay, on the coffee table. Before checking the messages, I peaked at the time. 3.23 a.m. Great, I mumbled to myself. As I picked up the phone, I was greeted by a slew of text messages, five of them, all with the same message on repeat. Mikey, are you awake?

I can't sleep. It was my mother, which I found odd, not only because of the late hour, but because she never texted me. She'd turned old, and new technologies just didn't go well with her, thinking she'd accidentally sent the message several times. I decided to call and check up on her. When she didn't pick up, I just tried again. Nothing. After the third attempt, I gave up and decided to text her instead. Hey, Mom, what's up? I can't sleep. Why not? Because they were so loud. I scratched my head in confusion. She lived out in the countryside, in a particularly quiet neighborhood.

I couldn't fathom anything they could have awoken her. What do you mean? What are you talking about? The people that killed me. I almost dropped my phone in shock as I read that last sentence. As the adrenaline faded, I realized that someone had probably gotten a hold of her phone. Even if it was just a prank, it was a rather sick one. Whatever the case, I decided to play along.

Who? The faceless. Who are the faceless? Look outside the window. With a trembling hand, I reached down to part the curtains. I carefully peeked into the front yard, looking around for any intruders. There stood an unnaturally tall person, dressed in all black and wearing a strange mask. From their build, I assumed it was a man, though I couldn't be completely sure as they were shrouded in darkness. He held up a mobile phone. I immediately recognized it due to the bright red case, it was my mother's. As my eyes adapted to the darkness, I got a better look at the tall man. I realized then that he wasn't wearing just any mask, but the torn, bloody remnants of someone's face, a crudely put together mask of flesh. I backed away from the window and prepared to call the police.

Only then did I realize that I didn't have a single bar of signal. I tried to call, but each dial only led me to a static tone. Despite that horrifying fact, the intruder was able to message me again. Why don't you try running? Escaping was my first thought as well. Without thinking about the message, I ran straight to the back door. Before exiting, I decided to peek out through the window, just to make sure the coast was clear. To my surprise, another person stood there.

He too, were one of their victim's faces. Not that way, another message said. What do you want? I texted back as I desperately tried to come up with a feasible escape plan. We want more. More what? Faces. The garage was my last hope of his escape.

escape. While the door would be an obvious exit, it had a small window that was hidden by some tall bushes. I figured that they might not have seen it in the dark. Again, as I entered the garage, I could see one of the faceless people standing outside. He saw me enter the garage and took a step closer. As I got a look at the mask he was wearing, I almost threw up. He'd taken my mother's face, twisting her mouth into an unnatural smile. Hello, sweetie, another text said. Every window, Every door, every possible escape, was guarded by one of the masked assailants. As a last resort, I fled to the attic. I climbed the ladder and lifted it up out of their reach.

Once there, I could do little more than board myself in and pray that I could call for help. But without signal, that proved to be a futile task. I fumbled around for a light switch, but the bulb wouldn't light up. I was left up there with only my phone as a weak source of light. Another text came through, and I opened it with a shaky finger. All it said was, behind you. Hey everyone, I want to take a quick second to remind you all to click that follow button if you're listening on Spotify. This way you'll get notified every time a new episode is released.

Now back to the story. A text notification woke me from a deep slumber. It was my dad. I can't explain everything, but I f***ed up. You and your mother are in grave danger. A rush of emotions coursed through me. All kinds of thoughts popped into my head. What the hell is going on?

My dad is in the house. Why didn't he just come up to my room? Maybe this is some sick prank. My room is on the second floor, and it overlooks the driveway. I moved my blinds and noticed that my dad's truck was gone. Adrenaline began to pump through my whole body. I thought to myself, what in the actual f*** is happening right now? Another text message notification startled me

and sent more adrenaline coursing through my system. I didn't even want to look at my phone anymore, but I knew I had to. It read, Come downstairs now. Go to my room and grab your mother and leave the house now. I am now shaking in fear. I quickly texted back. How can I know this is you, Dad? He quickly replied, now is not the time for fucking questions. Time is running out. I knew that even in a life or death situation, my dad would never talk to me like this. I quickly texted back. If you are truly my father, send me your computer's password. I saw text on the bottom of my messaging app that

showed he was typing. Then nothing. No message. A whole minute went by, and there was still no response to such a simple question. My stomach dropped even more. Whoever I was texting, it was not my father. Come the fuck downstairs, you little shit. Don't make me come up those stairs. Why was this guy so hesitant to come upstairs? Then it hit me.

This had to be someone close to my family. Whoever I was texting knew I was dangerous. They knew I had firearms in my room. The only person that came to mind was my older brother, Eric. He ran away from home as soon as he turned 18. He got into trouble with the law so many times that my family cut ties with him. I sent a text back. This is Eric, isn't it?

Stop this sick joke right now. No response. I grabbed my Ruger 57 pistol from my nightstand, cocked it back, and pointed it directly at my door. I listened intently to the noises in the house. There was nothing but dead silence. I picked up my phone again. I sent another message. Tell me what the fuck is going on, Eric, or I'm calling the police right now.

A second after my thumb hit the send button, I heard a ding emanating from the closet right behind me. My heart dropped. Don't even think about turning around, Eric said. I stayed frozen looking straight ahead. Eric, let's be rational about this. Eric replied, I've always liked you, little bro. It's nothing personal.

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