It was a dark Monday when I found myself sitting up at about 1 AM, reading a news blog, when I came across an intriguing advertisement that promised to reveal my deepest secret if I were to finish a small quiz.
With nothing better to do and being half-drunk, I clicked on the ad. It redirected me to a webpage with a white background, a small red button in the center, and text that boldly stated “START” in a dark, unsettling font. Clicking the button presented me with the first question: “What is your favorite color?”
“The fuck?” I thought to myself.
“What does this even have to do with the quiz?”
Nonetheless, I reluctantly chose an answer and progressed through 13 more questions, each one more outlandish than the last. Before long, the quiz prompted me to type in my email to receive the results.
Now I know how stupid this may seem, but having just lost the last few minutes to this stupid quiz, I might as well get something out of it. I wrote down an old email of mine and hit enter. The email box disappeared, and a loud buzzing sound emanated through my headphones. Annoyed, surprised, and feeling rather angry at this point, I swiftly closed the website, cursing under my breath about the absurdity of it all.
I opened my emails and waited. To my disappointment, nothing came. I waited for at least 5 minutes, double-checking my spam folder, but there was no verification, no result, no email.
Growing tired of waiting, I went back to reading news articles until dawn before dozing off. I woke up hours later, my body aching. I checked my phone; it was 2:30 PM. Suddenly remembering the quiz, I checked my emails, and just like last time, nothing.
I checked my browser history, and while I still found evidence of my presence on the blogs I read before I slept, the quiz was nowhere to be found. I convinced myself it was all a dream, yet it felt so real.
I continued my life normally past that point, pushing the thought of the website to the back of my head. But all stupid things have repercussions, as I was reminded later that week.
I checked my emails to find an email from nobody, I literally mean that. You know where it shows you who sent the email you’re reading? That part right there was completely blank. The email in question had no title, only a link embedded in these random letters:
“yvdzivgsvurtfivrmhszwldhyozxpsvdrooxlnvuliblfgsvivhmlgfimrmtyzxpmlvhxzkvuilngsvivzkvihvnyizxvrmgsvhgroolumrtsgsvooxozrnsrhkozxvullghgvkhhrovmgzhkvxgizohgirwvsvhwizdrmtmvzimldsvivglsrwvmlkovzfmsvziwmlnvixbrmsrhdzpvgsvvmwzkkilzxsvhzuzgvglkzigzpv”
Hesitantly, I clicked the link. The screen went dark for a moment, then suddenly a video appeared on my screen in full screen. The video was grainy, low-quality, and dark, but you could somewhat discern a figure sitting in front of a monitor. The scene resembled something out of a horror movie, lacking only the ominous violin music.
The recording seemed to be from outside someone’s house, looking through a window. The figure in the video was sitting on a chair, facing a monitor. The video was shot from behind the person, making it impossible to identify the person or whatever was on the monitor they were facing.
I tried to move my mouse and I pressed a few buttons on my keyboard, but to no avail. Unlike what I initially thought, there was audio with the video—a man’s breathing. The whole thing felt weird; it didn’t sit right with me.
I got up to turn off my PC but stopped dead in my tracks when I noticed the person in the video had also stood up the same way I did. Hesitantly, I raised my left hand. A second later, the person in the video raised their left hand.
I took off my headset and booked it into the kitchen, I grabbed a knife and rushed into the small bathroom connected to the living room. My hands were shaking, and my heart was racing. I tried to collect my thoughts and think of what to do next.
In my haste, I had left my phone in my bedroom. But there was no way in hell I was going back out there. I had no idea how many people were outside, but I knew their intentions weren’t positive.
I did what any other person would do; I waited and prayed. The silence in the bathroom was deafening, broken only by my anxious breaths. I was trapped in my own home.
I’m not afraid of dying; it happens to all of us at some point, but I don’t want to die. I have every right in the world to not wanna die. I especially don’t want to be murdered in the bathroom of my own home by some dipshit who recorded my final minutes.
The tension in the air was stirred up by loud glass breaking. They had broken a window, no doubt. The sound came from my bedroom, providing me with an opportunity that probably saved my life.
You see, to be in my bedroom, you had to walk through the kitchen, and to walk through the kitchen you had to pass by the bathroom I was in. Just adjacent to the bathroom I was in was the front door of my house. This gave me more than enough time to unlock my front door and make a run for it.
The thought of throwing myself through a window instead of fiddling with the locked door crossed my mind, but I have more brains than balls. Slowly, to not make any noise, I exited the bathroom and walked to the front door.
I heard the opening and slamming of a door behind me, reminding me to get the fuck outta there. Somehow, perhaps with luck or skill, I opened the front door without making a fuss.
The moment that door opened, I ran outta that place as if I were competing for first place in the Olympics. Never in my life had I run that fast. Just getting reminded of it makes me feel tired.
I threw my knife in the front garden of my house and ran towards my neighbor’s house. I didn’t want them to think I meant to harm them. After a few seconds of frantically knocking on their front door, it opened and I was greeted by a middle-aged man. I explained to him that my house was broken into and if he could call the cops for me.
Thankfully, he invited me into his house and he called the cops for me. Through anxious breaths, I only told him that my house had been broken into. He relayed the information to the dispatcher, and we waited for the cops to arrive.
After what felt like an eternity, the cops arrived. I pointed them to my house, and they quickly got to searching through it while my neighbor and I waited in the safety of his home.
A few minutes later, they both came back out and explained that while there was evidence of a break-in, they found nobody in the house. The rest of that night was a blur. I was bombarded with many questions and later escorted to the local police station, where I got asked even more questions.
I spent the next two days in a motel, but something felt amiss. Every second I felt like I was being watched, as if someone was actively spying on me, documenting my every move.
I scoured the web, looking through every corner, exploring forums, reading through news articles, and watching documentaries. All of which was an attempt to discover if this had happened to anyone before. Now, I’m what kids call a “boomer.” I was a Medical Consultant when I was younger. I have damn near zero idea of how anyone could find my address through a quiz.
Earlier this evening, my friend drove me over to my house. We thoroughly searched every inch of the place, and interestingly enough, nothing appeared to be stolen. It’s not like I had many valuables, but they could have taken anything and yet they didn’t.
This left me baffled, as far as I know, breaking into someone’s house usually meant that you wish to;
Rob them.
Harm them.
Kill them.
Now, I’m certain it wasn’t the first option. That means someone had done all of that to harm or kill me. It made sense the more I think about it. Some disturbed motherfucker sends me a live stream of them spying on me right before breaking into my home. They didn’t want to steal anything.
But who would it be? I made no enemies that I know of. It can’t be anyone from work because I have been retired for over a year. It had to be someone I didn’t know. I don’t have a family, and my friends would do no such thing.
Back at the motel, I scoured the internet for a few hours before I received an email. It was the same thing as last time, the email had no title or author, and it was only a link embedded into these letters:
“RmhszwldhtizhkzkivhvmxvmvzihWvzgssrnhvoudrgsjfrvgxsvvihHrovmghgvkhzdzogarmtollnVnyizxvgsvwfhpzgrnvovhhilln”