This story was written by Nazisharks and its his true life story.
All credit goes to him.


Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I’ve been an internet user for twenty years now. That’s older than some of my co-workers. It’s over half my life. And still the internet feels like “the new thing.” I take it for granted, like we all do. But at least I remember what it was like when it wasn’t there. When you had to leaf through an encyclopedia set to find an answer. When you could only find Gillian Anderson’s picture in magazines. Or later, when songs took 30 minutes to download and full-length movies were almost impossible to find, because no-one’s harddrive could hold them.

First getting online was super exciting. I mean, the first time I did it without supervision. Because I knew I had anything at my fingertips. I could type it into good ol’ Lycos and there it would be. I was interested in naked celebrities and the paranormal back then. I was only 13, give me a break. I was so interested in the paranormal, I built a fortunecities homepage and linked it to the DarkNet webring, where all the best “dark” websites and homepages came together. Pages on spellbooks, goth babes, the occult, dark art, and a grossout page or two. It was through the webring that I met Angelica.

Angelica hosted a Wiccan geocities or tripod homepage that I found particularly alluring. No wait, it was angelfire. She just made the best of some cool animated gifs, midis, and frames—amazing stuff at the time. Just like her, the page was creative and attractive, but also simple. The reason I bring her up is she contacted me just a few weeks ago by email asking, “What’s been happening?” A catch-up question. And this is pure Angelica: She signed the email with her ICQ contact #. I enjoyed the quaint touch. It’d be like someone in the ‘90s sending a letter with a wax seal, right?

I replied back with a summary of how my life had gone over the past 18 years or so since I’d last communicated with her. 18 years—makes you think. She shot back a response almost immediately asking for details. We exchanged a few emails this way. I was pretty excited to come home from work and write to her, actually. Nothing romantic. It was just like reconnecting with my past. It was a strange feeling.

But I started to notice something off. She never really answered anything about herself. She ignored my suggestions that we text or even talk on the phone. She just kept wanting to know more about me. It got me wondering if something was wrong. Like she’s dying and just doesn’t want to say. So I just ask her why she isn’t sharing and if there’s something I should know.

I read over her previous messages looking for clues, I guess you could say. And I noticed something that didn’t occur to me at all until then. Her email address was at globetrotter.net. I know a lot of people still have their old email addresses that they just haven’t given up. It just struck me as strange. Globetrotter was a Canadian ISP way back in the mid-90s. I didn’t even realize they still hosted. It’s like she was purposely trying to be old school. But something about it creeped me out. Like she was trying too hard to make me feel nostalgic or something. It’s hard to explain.

Again, I didn’t have to wait long for her reply. She didn’t tell me what was wrong. She just asked me, “Hey, do you remember The Hole?” I didn’t. Just a hazy sense that I dreamed about something called ‘The Hole’ once. Whatever it was, I had an instinctive feeling that it was something bad. I went over IRC rooms, websites, and newsgroups in my head, but nothing.

She sent me another email, before I could even reply. “You really don’t remember? The Hole was our little secret. Not many knew about it. Even fewer how to find it. But we found it. It was right there all along. Sometimes, when you’d load darknet in Netscape, there’d be a tiny black dot in the bottom, left corner, in all this blank space. You had to hover over it exactly and click it. Then you’d be there. You’d be in The Hole. You remember it now, don’t you?”

She was right, I did. I didn’t remember ever calling it “The Hole,” but I remembered that secret little space we found. I remember it was like the browser didn’t see it as a real website or something. There wasn’t even an address to copy and paste from the bar. It was just the letter ‘M.’ I tried everything to pin it down to an IP, but ‘M’ was all I could ever find.

I remembered it. But I never liked that site at all. There was nothing there. It was all empty. I remembered being excited the first time we found it, because it was something hidden. And it felt like somewhere we shouldn’t be. And then I hated it. Because it was just empty. And it made me feel bad and empty. I never cared to remember it.

I wrote Angelica back telling her this. I didn’t hear back from her that night. That was unusual. She normally replied right away. Eerily fast, like she already had her answer typed out and it didn’t matter what I actually said to her. But now I was waiting for a response, because this whole thing had me inexplicably shaken up. So of course she doesn’t reply.

The next day, when I got home from work, an email was waiting. She said that we were missing so much. The Hole had so much in it to discover, so many secrets, you could just keep going and going. It was like an endless puzzle. Everyone else stopped at the first layer. But she felt there had to be something else in it, that no-one would create and hide this thing for no reason. And she kept looking until she discovered how to go deeper. And she kept going. She said it’s still there to find, if I want to go looking. The webring is gone, Netscape is gone, but The Hole is still there.

I felt a strange chill down my spine that I brushed off as nerves. I was up for a promotion and a little stressed, after all. Then I started to wonder if she was pranking me. But Angelica wasn’t really a humorous girl. She’d laugh at your jokes. But she didn’t really make her own. And I just felt she was completely serious. In fact, something about her earnestness was really disturbing.

I didn’t reply to her right then. I decided to run some checks on her, because things just weren’t adding up. I started with her email address, to see if she’d been posting anywhere. I was searching for a while before I hit something. I didn’t find any forum posts or websites or anything like that. What I found was that her email host, globetrotter, had stopped hosting eleven years ago. The email address she was writing from was impossible.

Why would she go through so much trouble to create a fake email address that mirrored whatever email address she would’ve been using in the ‘90s? That wasn’t just quaint anymore. That was crazy. I was really worried about her. But at the same time, I was worried for myself. I was never all that close to her. I mean, we hadn’t talked in 18 years. Why did she suddenly want to reach out to me? And why just to talk about some long-forgotten website? Because I felt like that’s what she was building up to all along. It’s just so weird.

I kept digging around. I used her ICQ number, her name, the state I believed she lived in. I could find no record of her doing anything after her angelfire homepage. No facebook, no google plus, not even a myspace. It’s like her last presence on the internet actually was in the ‘90s. It’s possible to take nostalgia too far.

I tried not to think about it. By this point, I’d gone a week without sending her an email or her sending me one. I felt guilty about it. But I had every right. I was losing sleep over this. I just knew I’d regret it if I sent her another email. And it seemed like she took the hint at first. But a new email came in, telling me how she thought she was coming to the center of The Hole. “But you could spend your whole life in here.” I remember those words exactly, because they unsettled me.

A week after that, I got a different kind of email. This one didn’t even have an email address. That was spooky enough in itself. But then the text just read, “If you get an email from anyone saying they’re someone, delete it and forget what you read.” It wasn’t signed. I figured it had to be Angelica. But it was so vague. I was really getting nervous. I thought about getting the police involved, but I knew they couldn’t do anything.

I received another email with instructions of where to go looking for The Hole. A place on archive.org, on their Wayback Machine, still had the dot to click on. I thought about going to check it. But the honest truth is I was afraid to check it. Something was just wrong with this whole situation.

The another email came from the blank email address. The body was just the link to a gopher site. Now, I hadn’t seen a gopher site in a good 15 years. I had to download an old browser just to access it. If you weren’t around at the time, Gopher sites just housed a bunch of text files in folders. You’d go to Gopher://blahblah.com. They were usually run by universities.

This particular gopher site only had a few files. They had different file names, but all the files said the same thing. “help me please” over and over. I did get the police involved this time. They were courteous. But they thought I was being pranked. I asked them if they could at least look into Angelica. I told them all I knew about her. They said they’d try.

I stopped received emails from Angelica and the blank address after that. I hoped it was over. I think a month passed before anything else happened. I got a large, manila envelope in the mail. No return address. I hesitated to open it. But I did. And inside was a print out of all my correspondence with Angelica. Not just the new stuff. Even emails I’d written her back in the ‘90s. I barely remembered them. But I recognized my old email address and the things I said sounded like teen me. The only thing not in there were the emails from the blank address.

I took this stack of papers to the police to tell them something’s definitely up. They told me they still thought it was a sick prank. I asked them “why sick?” because that seemed strong. That’s when they told me they heard back from her local PD. Angelica’s been a missing person since 1999. Her parents offered a reward and everything. But there weren’t any clues. One night she was in her room, listening to music, on the computer. In the morning, she was gone.

I was so shocked I had to sit down. I had to side with the police that this was a prank, now. But at the same time, what if it was her? Maybe she’s had a psychotic break or something? Or what else could it be? What’s this stuff about "The Hole"? Is it even real? And about about the blank email address? I haven't a clue. And that’s what scares the crap out of me about this.

let me book space cos this will be an interesting read

interesting...

suspenseful piece of art
keep it up
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rushes takes a seat


Waiting......

seun has to fix his uelseless spamm bottt

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These are screenshots of the story cos seuns useless spam bott has been dealing with O.P

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this is tricky

preetypam:
interesting...

your signature is touching
So touching

ThugCheetah:
your signature is touching So touching

So, like I said in my last update, I contacted my buddy Ben who’s a real computer wizard. He works IT at the University of Guelph. I know that may not sound like the most prestigious place to be, but they actively poached him. He’s good. Anyway, I give Ben an idea of what’s going on and ask if he can get a lock on that gopher site for me. I also ask, if he can safely do it, to see if there’s anything to this Hole site. He says that won’t be a problem.

The next day he already comes back to me with the question, “Is this some sort of a joke? I don’t like wasting my time.” I’ve never seen Ben even slightly irritated before. He tells me when he traced the gopher site, it turns out it’s being hosted right there at the University of Guelph. But they don’t have a gopher site. Never have. Stranger still, it’s inside the IT department’s offices.

I assure him if it is a joke, I’m not in on it. So he manages to track the server to a storage room in a sub-basement below his office. The subbasement was abandoned years before he even started working there due to ventilation and mold issues. It’s just full of old IT crap now and some storage lockers.

Someone had set up the server in a storage closet. The closet itself was completely obscured by old computer equipment. And it looked like it had been for several years. Meaning the server was running under their noses all that time.

When he gets in, he sees an old desktop. It’s hooked up to a phone. Beside it, there’s a notepad with the words “Make it stop” and “Abracadabra” on it in the same handwriting. He said that was a ominous. The whole place is covered in thick dust. But the server is still running. He hooks up a monitor and keyboard to disable it. And he said the ironic thing is it had an auto-shutdown date of that very day. Gave him the chills. And he doesn’t chill easy.

When he let his manager know what he found, his manager told him there’s really only one man who could’ve set that up. Back in the early ‘90s, a guy worked in the department they all called “Milky,” ‘cause last name was Melke and he was really white. He was a little eccentric. But then he had a burnout and it got worse.

It started with him pounding his desk. The manager at the time asked him if he was ok. He said there’s no way out. Ben’s boss said he heard Milky say something like, “You think you exist, but you’re just another part of it. Everything is just another puzzle." Then he asked, “Do I exist?” He said it was eerie.

Every day around 3pm Milky started standing in a dark corner of the office, facing the wall. He’d mutter some things. The guys joked that he was at his prayers. But he’d always come away looking more upset than anything else. Once a new guy asked him if he was a Muslim and he replied with, “I’m sorry.” And the guy said, “For what?” He said, “It was telling me how your children die.”

Toward the end, before they fired him, he started telling them about how he found a place on the internet that wasn’t made by humans. The guys joked that it was Skynet, since Terminator was a big movie. But he said it wasn’t created by machines either. It was just always there. And it showed him things he couldn’t unsee. Ben's boss even recalled that he started to tear up.

The manager said it was sad to see such a smart guy clearly losing it. He was never caught stealing anything. But equipment disappeared during his shift and it just caught up to him. He told them when they fired him that the secret place got into his head, and that he’d sometimes wake up in strange places and he had no idea what he did.

Ben said he wouldn’t look up the Hole for me. The gopher site was freaky enough. Because there was one other thing I should know. The server had a linkup, through the phone line, to a really old webcam. Low res and the image updates every 4 seconds or so. It’d been running non-stop since ’97. All of them just show the front of someone’s house. The same house back to ’97. He sent me the photos. Because he knew what it was. It was my house. But here’s the thing about that. This house that I live in now--I just bought this house two years ago. So why was there a camera focused on it since '97? I can't be the target, then.

I went back to the police with the webcam information anyway. Turns out, even though they didn’t really think there was a crime going on, the local police department got curious. Or at least, one officer, Det. Thereault. Because the fact that Angelica disappeared meant there was a potential crime tied up in this. He went all out investigating this and actually turned something up. He found Angelica! When he told me she was alive and well, I was thrilled, naturally. He said she voluntarily ran away from home and chose not to have contact with her family. She declined to say why. And legally he was bound to protect her privacy.

However, when he told her how it came about that he went looking for her, she asked him if she could speak to me. He gave me her phone number. I called her up. I was nervous, since it’d been so long and I was excited to hear from her again after thinking the worst.

She answered quickly and asked if it was me. I told her yes and said it was nice to hear her voice after all this time. Then she said, without any pleasantries, “It wasn’t me sending you messages.” I told her I figured that much out. That’s when she let it drop. “I don’t think you understand,” she said. “I have never once in my life sent you any sort of communication before now. I don’t know you at all.”

I felt a little shocked, a little worried, and angry, because a part of me thought she was lying. But what if she was telling the truth? I told her she must be confused. I found her through her Wiccan homepage on angelfire and I described the page to her. She said she didn’t make “that thing” and I should never have gone there. “It’s bad.” She wouldn’t say anymore on that.

Then I told her all the details I knew of her personal life, about her likes and hopes and dreams and her family. She said it was all true. But whoever told him about it, it wasn’t her.

That’s why she wanted to talk to me now. So I would know the truth. She remembered how it used to happen every now and then a long time ago. She would have people tell her they talked to her online all night, but she knew she’d never spoken to them. And they’d tell her she was doing things she knew she’d never done. She was asleep or sometimes not even in town. Then they’d get weird or disappear.

She remembered this one time she was doing her math homework, and a random guy messaged her with the solution to the problem. She was terrified. But she asked him how he knew her math problem, was he spying on her. And he told her, no, she asked him for help. She didn’t believe him. So he sent her a screenshot. The message was from a day ago. She’d just gotten the homework that day.

She said the worst it got was when she messaged a close friend of hers she saw online on ICQ. Her friend replied with, “Who is this?” She thought it was just a joke, so she said something silly, she didn’t remember what. Her friend said she didn’t think it was cool to be hacking Angelica’s account. Or if this was her brother, to knock it off. Angelica swore it was her. And her friend replied, “Umm, I know you’re not Angelica, because Angelica’s sitting right here with me.”

She knew this friend wouldn’t joke like that. She didn’t have the imagination for it. Whatever it was, her friend really believed she was in the room with her. But she wasn’t. Her friend always insisted she was there that night. She said Angelica was showing her her cool, new homepage. The friendship fell apart after that, because her friend got strange. That was the first she’d ever seen of the homepage and she knew it was “bad juju.”

I asked her if she’d ever heard of The Hole. She went silent for so long, I thought we lost connection. She said she’s still there, she just never expected to hear that again. There was this guy who used to harass her back when she was just about 12 or 13, on IRC. He called himself “HolyMoses.” He started off nice. He seemed to understand all her problems. And to know what she was thinking. At 12, that felt romantic. But she noticed weird things, like he didn’t seem to have any life or personality. Any time of the day, he was always online and active. But no-one knew anything about him.

One day he started telling her stranger things. Like, “Do you remember the three men dressed as bees at the Halloween party?” She didn’t know what he was talking about. Eight years later at a college Halloween party, she saw three men dressed as bees sitting in the corner of the room. They weren’t doing anything. Just sitting still and staring at the floor. Then they turned to her and their eyes looked so black. She ran out of the party.

Another time he told her, “You can drink and smoke, you know. You died in a car crash.” It scared the life out of her. She briefly wondered if she really was a ghost, she said. When she told him to stop talling her things like that, he said there was a place she could go that was for special people only. And she’d never need to go anywhere else. It was a place on the internet that was infinite in all directions. She said she remembered him saying that specifically. And everything she needed would be there. It was called “The Hole” and she just had to send him a message with the letter ‘M’ to get there.

She actually tried to do it, because things weren’t going well for her. But she sent the letter ‘N’ by accident, because her hands were shaking. HolyMoses went offline and she didn’t see him after. Until 2010, when she got an email from TheNewCommandments at HolyMoses dort come saying, “You coming?”

If anyone was impersonating her, she said that was the most likely person. At the time, she was so naïve. Looking back on it now, talking to me, she said he was the creepiest person she’d ever encountered. Just thinking of him creeped her out. And made her afraid he’d sense it somehow and come for her.

She said that was all she had for me and not to call her again. I thanked her for taking the time to talk to me at all. And wished her the best in her life. I think I’m going to need some time to process all of this.

Err.... It's good....

I know its fiction but I'm scared, like honest to God, bones deep scared.

LitQueen:
I know its fiction but I'm scared, like honest to God, bones deep scared.

It isn't fiction,I just decided to assume it's a fictional story,cos it was wayyyy to creepy to b true.It's a true story

introvertme:


It isn't fiction,I just decided to assume it's a fictional story,cos it was wayyyy to creepy to b true.It's a true story

like seriously? ds is realy strange bt am stil waitin for more updates

introvertme:


It isn't fiction,I just decided to assume it's a fictional story,cos it was wayyyy to creepy to b true.It's a true story

I'm also going for wayyyy to creepy to be true else I won't sleep this night.

So introvertme's account got banned by d spam bot again

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