Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Dark Web Horror Story | I know where you live...

Episode Date: March 19, 2021

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18-N-N-L-L-Eepo 10-Tourgents'C Tours'AX-B-B-B-B-B-B-Banza Depos minimum of $10. Decoveye to be in a fashion responsible. The conditions apply. I could go on for hours and come up with a thousand reasons as to why I used to hang out on the dark web.

Most of them would be poor excuses, hiding the simple truth that I simply had a tad too much time on my hands. That, accompanied by too little knowledge about Internet security, turned out to be a bad mixture. Go on. You can call me stupid. I honestly wouldn't blame you. But if just one of you can look through the sheer amount of idiocy to heed my warning,

it will have been worth it. Listen up, because what I have to say might just save your life. My personal vice had always been the bizarre chat rooms, scattered across the dark web. I'd never been into drugs, didn't need weapons, nor was I interested in the weirdest porn one could find out there. I just wanted contact with the outliers of society to get a closer look at the strange people traveling the dark web highway. For years, I'd just hang around, just lurking on various forums and chat. rooms while people discussed the wilder sides of life. It included the occult, wild conspiracies no sane person could ever believe, and tons of weird roleplay. I thought it weird that people

could be intelligent enough to create these masterful websites, yet be stupid enough to grasp onto these obscenely insane ideas. It would only be on a rare occasion that I joined the chats with my own input. It would usually be to share fake stories fitting their crazy worldviews, trolling them deeper into their dumb beliefs. I might have been a bit of an asshole. I won't deny that. But I was young. I was stupid. I'm not that person anymore. Now this particular story takes place almost a decade ago when I still lived at home with my parents. I'd sleep throughout the day and stay up all night, much to the despair of my parents, who thought my introverted nature would come back to haunt me. In hindsight, they were kind of right, but for the wrong reasons. I just found a dark web chat room

that focused mainly on tracking down trolls and otherwise horrible people. To me, it seemed like the perfect kind of vigilante justice the world needed. It wasn't like the users harmed their chosen victims. They would just call on local users to vandalize their homes, vehicles, or expose them to their community. The way I saw it, they got exactly what they deserved. Of course, some of the users were more malicious, overstepping their boundaries. But the admins did their best to keep things clean. While I never personally partook in the raids, I was an avid lurker.

For months, I'd just look at what punishments would be dealt out, and I found a morbid sense of enjoyment in the action. That was until one day in 2014 when I got a message request from one of the admins. I nervously clicked on the message and instantly froze in my chair. I know you're watching. My initial reaction was to simply ignore the message and delete it. But as life quickly teaches you, Pretending a problem doesn't exist is not a long-term solution.

And just a few minutes later I received another message. Do not ignore me, it read. It won't end well for you. Maybe I should have turned off my computer there and then. But I suspect even that wouldn't have helped. Some stranger online had chosen me, and I didn't understand why. I was just reading the threads. What's the big deal?

I typed back, trying to seem nonchalant about the situation. You find amusement in the world. In the amusement in our work? You think it's funny what we do to the worst scum on the internet? I wasn't sure what to answer. No matter my response, it would feel wrong. And the anonymous person on the other end would certainly not engage in logical discussion. Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend anyone. I just found it a bit satisfying to see trolls and so on get what they have coming to them. I answered stupidly. No sooner had I hit enter before a wave of regret flushed through me. Satisfaction has nothing to do with our work.

Justice is all. People like you who find pleasure without lifting a finger to help, you are the problem, the admin typed back. Come on, I'm not a bad guy, I said. That will be up to us to decide. With that, the website closed itself, locking me out permanently. Left in shock, I tried to reopen it to figure out how and why they taken such offense to my simple lurking nature.

But upon reloading, the website appeared to not exist. I thought that would be the end of it. I thought my punishment would end with me being kicked off the website. Those were better days, living in blissful ignorance, not knowing what was brewing beneath the surface. Days passed, maybe a week. And I was slowly forgetting about the strange encounter I'd had online. But then I got an email.

It only contained a subject and an attached file. The email address itself was just a string of random. numbers and letters. It is time, the subject line read. The attached file was a picture of a street, one I recognized as I traversed each day on the way to my evening job. That was all the email contained, nothing more, nothing less. I was confused, without having the faintest clue what the email meant. My initial reaction told me the email was spam, but for what purpose? It typed back, what's this? Almost instantly a response reached me. It didn't contain any, anything but a single phrase that sent shivers down my spine. The beginning. I tried to get more of

a response from the stranger, but they refused to engage in further conversation. A couple of more days passed without incident, than the next mail arrived. This time I got a picture of my street. What is this shit? What do you want for me? I typed back to no response. Then another day passed, and another email found its way to my inbox. It contained a picture and a single line of text. getting closer. The picture showed my house at night and had been taken from across the street. Through the second floor window

I could just barely make out the silhouette of myself sitting at the computer. That was the final straw. I had to tell my parents, and I needed to alert the police. The thought dawned on me that I was being hunted down by the same dark web group that I'd been lurking among.

My parents agreed that we should tell the police, but after a very short visit, they said there wasn't much they could do without an active threat, or at least the identity of the person stalking me. Basically, I was sh-ed out a lot. During the next few days, I couldn't find a moment's sleep. I would lie awake at night listening to each and every creek through the house, wondering if anyone would come to get me at night. I knew logically their method wasn't to physically harm people, but there were outliers in the system, and it terrified me. Then, as I finally managed to drift off to an uneasy sleep, my phone rang.

I jolted back awake to realize that I'd received a text message from a number I didn't recognize. Hello, Samuel, it read. Who's this? I asked. It doesn't matter who I am. Here, have a look. Another message popped up, this time with a picture of the front door to our house. Not so fun anymore, is it? What are you talking about? I asked. People who find amusement in others' misery don't deserve happiness, they simply responded.

Another picture popped up, this time showing the... hallway inside my house. I jumped to my feet ready to alert my parents, but upon trying to open my door, I realized it was locked. As I hammered on it, desperately calling for help, another message popped up. They can't hear you, it read, accompanied by a picture showing the stairs leading up towards my bedroom. Don't do this, I typed back. I stopped hammering to try to listen to what was going on. To my surprise, there were no footsteps, nor any sounds of struggle coming from my parents' bedroom down the hall. Yet the pictures kept coming. Knock, knock, one message said as they stood outside my parents' bedroom door.

Then they went inside and showed my parents sleeping in bed. With each picture they got closer, one just showed the intruder holding a knife, and that was it. I didn't receive any more photos, just a message. Justice isn't always fair, but it is necessary. I called the police, who showed up promptly, but too late. What they found as they opened up my parents' bedroom were two corpses with slit throats. neither had been able to call for help as their lives swiftly ended. According to them, they'd already been dead for hours by the time I received the messages.

I'd been asleep during the actual murders, and the messages were little more than a twisted game and afterthought. Even if I hadn't been locked in, I wouldn't have been able to help them. Not that this fact made me feel any less guilty, useless and broken. Even then I knew that the perpetrators wouldn't get caught. They were just too fucking clever. Years have passed since the murders, and I've stayed off the dark web ever since. Obviously, I share my part of the blame for visiting sketchy websites, but it's important to know that there are people so deranged in their own sense of reality

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