This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Smart-Bus3973 on 2024-10-02 16:21:43+00:00.
I never should have bought that laptop. It turned my life completely upside down.
It all started on a late-night browsing spree—the kind that often led me down the rabbit holes of obscure dark web sites, offering all kinds of tantalizing offers. You could find anything imaginable there— from legal to the illegal, and everything in between.
That’s when I found it: a listing that seemed innocent enough, buried among a jumble of more questionable items.
“Old laptop—perfect for refurbishing! Minimal wear and tear, in good working condition,” the ad read.
I’m a tech enthusiast who is always looking for new projects, and this one was too good to pass up. The only reservation I had was the seller’s lack of reviews, and those that existed were vague, making it hard to tell if the product was legit. But the price was unbeatable, and I figured it was worth the risk.
As I clicked "Buy Now," a sense of unease settled in my stomach, but I brushed it off. I needed a distraction, and the laptop seemed like the perfect project.
When the laptop finally arrived, it looked a little worn but had a certain retro charm to it.
I wiped it down, plugged it in, and powered it up. The screen flickered to life, revealing a handful of files. Most were harmless—old documents, music files, and applications—but one stood out.
"DO NOT OPEN," it read in bold, red lettering.
I hesitated, my finger hovering over the mouse. Curiosity gnawed at me. It had to be a joke left by the previous owner. I was a seasoned hacker; I could of course handle a simple file. Taking a deep breath, I clicked.
Immediately, the screen filled with static. The sound was sharp, cutting through the silence and sending a chill down my spine. I wanted to close the laptop, but I continued to watch mesmerized. The video appeared—grainy and dark.
A strange looking figure stood before a flickering candle, chanting in a language I couldn’t understand. His voice was low and haunting.
Suddenly, he turned to the camera, revealing his hollow eyes that seemed to stare straight through me. The video then abruptly cuts off, leaving only an eerie silence.
I closed the laptop, a little taken aback but not totally shaken “It’s just a video,” I whispered to myself. “Nothing more.”
But I had no idea that the real disturbances were only about to begin in my life.
The next morning, I woke up to a flood of notifications. My social media accounts were filled with strange messages, and people I hadn’t spoken to in years were frantically emailing, calling, and texting me. I was overwhelmed, trying to make sense of it all.
Then, an old school friend called, his voice sounding shaky. He asked if I was okay, saying he’d received an email with a video of me… trying to hang myself. I froze in shock.
“I’m sending it now,” he said.
The email arrived, and my heart raced as I clicked the video. It was a grainy recording of me in my living room, standing beneath a noose. I watched in horror as I positioned myself to go through with it.
“I had no memory of this. I had never done anything like this. How could this even happen?” I asked myself.
Just then, the doorbell rang, followed by loud banging. My stomach churned. Was it the police? Had someone reported the video? How am I going to explain any of this to them?”
Hesitant, I opened the door, bracing myself for a tough conversation with the police.
But instead of the authorities, it was my girlfriend, Stella. Her mascara was smeared all over her face from crying, but her expression was nothing but pure fury. Without a word, she stormed in, shoving me back onto the couch.
Before I could react, she kicked off her shoe and started hitting me with it—hard, relentless blows as I tried to shield myself. “Stella, wait! I can explain!” I pleaded. “That video was fake. I wasn’t trying to do anything!”
She paused, her chest heaving with anger, then pulled out her phone. “Explain this, then,” she spat, thrusting the screen in front of me.
It was another video—this time, of me sitting on a beach with a woman who wasn’t Stella. The two of us were laughing and flirting while she sat on my lap.
Tears streamed down Stella’s face. “Are you saying this is fake too?” she asked, her voice cracking.
I stared at the screen, dumbfounded. I didn’t recognize the woman in the video. Nor have I ever been to that beach as well.
None of it made sense. But before I could even form a response, Stella threw her shoe at me one last time and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
I was left sitting there, reeling from the sheer impossibility of it all.
Then my phone rang again— this time it was my parents. They said they’d received a news clip showing me in jail after a drunk-driving accident.
A news clip? Of me in jail? How could that even be possible?” I asked myself again, as I stood in my own living room completely bewildered.
My head spun as I spent the next few hours trying to calm down friends and family, assuring them I was fine and that it was all some sick prank.
But was it really a prank?
I reluctantly glanced at the laptop as a wave of dread washed over me. My heart pounded in my chest as I slowly approached it and opened it again.
The screen flickered to life. This time, all the files were gone, except for two: the original "DO NOT OPEN" file and a new one labelled "Victims."
My hands trembled as I clicked on "Victims."
A list appeared that was Long and chilling. I scrolled down, each entry accompanied by photos and usernames from the dark web—people who were probably no longer alive.
My blood ran cold when I saw my name. I was number 178, the most recent victim.
My STATUS was being shown as ‘IN PROGRESS’
As I clicked on my folder, a photo of me appeared, along with details only someone who had been watching me would know.
Some of the other usernames on the list were familiar, too—people I’d seen online on the dark web in forums I frequent. I often wondered where they suddenly vanished. Now I knew why. And I realized I might be next.
Panic surged through me. I slammed the laptop shut, grabbed it, and raced out the door. I drove for hours until I found a secluded spot near a dumpster.
I tossed the laptop out and drove over it several times to make sure it was destroyed.
For the first time in days, I felt some relief.
But it didn’t last long.
When I returned home, my blood froze. The laptop was sitting on my desk, as if it had never left.
A chill crept down my spine as I stood there, staring in horror.
Paranoia consumed me. Right then I knew I had a huge problem on my hands and had to find a solution for it no matter what.
So I started looking at online forums dedicated to paranormal activities and digital hauntings.
Maybe, just maybe someone else had encountered a similar experience. My fingers flew across the keyboard, typing furiously, desperate for answers.
As I scrolled through hundreds of posts, I found one that caught my eye: It was headlined -
“The Cursed Laptop.”
The poster detailed a story eerily similar to mine. After purchasing an old laptop from the dark web, he began receiving ominous messages and videos that terrorized the user.
His advice was simple but chilling:
“CONFRONT IT! DO A CLEANSING RITUAL!!”
So, I researched further on the dark web, uncovering an array of rituals involving salt, candles, and incantation.
I gathered the supplies, feeling both foolish and desperate at the same time. As night fell, I prepared the ritual in my dimly lit apartment, following all the instructions to the letter.
I lit a row of candles on either side of the room and drew a circle on the middle of the floor using salt. Once I stood inside the circle I started with the incantation.
“Spirits of the digital realm, I call upon you to reveal yourself,” I said, my voice slightly trembling. “I seek to end this torment.”
Nothing happened at first, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
But then the laptop flickered violently. The screen flashed, and the ominous file reappeared, more vivid than before. The strange figure was looking at me intently through the laptop as if he was trying to get a measure of me.
Suddenly, the lights flickered, plunging the room into darkness. Even the light from the candles was being blocked from illuminating the room by some unseen powerful force. And then slowly the candles started to spread a little bit light around the room casting a creepy looking silhouette by my side.
Right then, I felt a cold and putrid breath against my neck, and a voice whispered in my ear, “You’ve invited me in Anthony.”
I could feel his presence just behind the salt circle and I realized he couldn’t get closer.
This was the same figure that appeared on the video first when I opened the laptop.
But in real he looked a lot more terrifying.
He carefully stood at the edge of my vision, his dark silhouette blurring the boundaries of reality.
“What do you want?” I shouted, my voice cracking.
The figure stepped closer, its face a distorted visage of rage “You opened the door, and now you must pay the price.”
Terror clawed at my insides, but I forced myself to stand my ground. “I didn’t mean to! I just wanted to refurbish the laptop!”
“It’s too late for remorse,” he hissed, a chilling echo of my own fear.
In that moment, I remembered the ritual. I needed to confront this entity, to assert my will.
“I reject you! I will not be your victim!”
“Spirits of th...
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