Growing up, I was always a social reject. I had few friends and only 1 or 2 I could truly call good friends. This was during the 2000’s when internet culture was just becoming big, and like all social rejects of the era, I took to the internet, where I would spend most of my free time browsing chat rooms and posting edgy jokes. I cringe looking back on it now, but it was fun then. Eventually, I found Reddit and that quickly became my favorite.
For those of you who weren’t around Reddit at that time, it was the wild west back then. We’re used to all these rules now enforced by the admin team, but back then you could say just about anything. Racism, sexism, whatever you wanted. It was nuts and I can’t say I miss it. Regardless, one day I stumbled upon a sub for Mystery Boxes, which, thankfully, no longer exists.
This sub was pretty small, but mainly consisted of Redditors posting and sharing mystery boxes they had bought all from various places on the internet, with eBay being the most popular. Usually it was typical cheap crap you’d expect to find in these, but because of how Reddit works, the cool ones would always be on the top of my feed. These were the ones that intrigued me.
This peaked my 16 year old interest. I had just gotten my first job and, as a social outcast, I had a lot of disposable income. My only real financial responsibility was my old beater truck my uncle gave me. Otherwise, I was free to spend my money as I saw fit. And after seeing a post of some guy pulling some rare Magic: The Gathering Cards that were valued at over 500$ a piece, I decided to try my luck with a few boxes.
I remember I bought three. A 50$ one, a 100$ one, and a 200$. I bought from three different sellers because I knew these were sometimes the source of scams, but they still all arrived on the same day one week later.
Needless to say, I was very disappointed. Contrary to what the top posts on this subreddit led me to believe, all I got was junk. The most valuable items in the boxes were some old video games, a cheap watch, and a few Walmart basketball jerseys. I was pissed. 350$ on mystery boxes with maybe 60$ worth of goods. That is, until I lifted what I thought was the last item out of the 200$ crate, some novel I had never heard of.
Underneath this novel was a small plastic bag with coins in it. The coins were all old and I knew old coins could sometimes be valuable. I went through them all, scanning the internet to find if any were valuable. Most of them weren’t worth anything at all, and a few were worth 10 bucks or so. Except one. When I put it into my AOL search engine I found out this coin was worth over 800$.
From that point on, for the next two years, I was hooked. I bought a ton of these boxes. Usually I would get nothing, sometimes I’d find a few items of decent value, and, rarely, I would stumble upon a treasure. These high valued items were few and far between, but they were enough to keep me hooked like a lottery ticket addiction. What was even more exciting was all those tasty upvotes I would get on Reddit when I’d post my high valued finds. I know that sounds stupid, but to a socially rejected teenager, those upvotes were attention and approval from others, which felt great.
As I grew up, moved out and got new responsibilities, I soon found that this hobby of mine was unsustainable. I couldn’t make all of my bills and afford to spend hundreds every month on mystery boxes that normally yielded nothing but disappointment and frustration. I slowly grew out of the habit, and by the time I was in my 20’s, I had completely quit.
One night, in my early 30’s, I went down the rabbit hole of YouTube. One video led to the next, and I soon found myself viewing several videos on dark web mystery box openings. This immediately intrigued me.
My mystery box days were a thing of the past, and only something I would occasionally bring up in casual conversation in a frail attempt at sounding interesting, but something about this was incredibly interesting. Basically, dark web mystery boxes were the same crap found in other mystery boxes, only creepier. I think that’s what made it so alluring to me. They seemed, well, more mysterious.
By this point, I was financially stable, and aside from a cat, I lived alone. I had plenty of money to spare, and I don’t know if it was for nostalgia or boredom, but I decided to buy one of these dark web mystery boxes. I was expecting a scam or for it to take forever to arrive, but, shockingly, it only took two days.
It sucked. Absolutely nothing of value. It was just weird crap you’d find in Hot Topic or the Halloween Isle of a Dollar Tree. Still, I had a lot of fun opening it and it brought me back to my teenage years when this was one of my only sources of fun. For the next few months, I would buy some here and there only to receive more trash. Despite these being worse than the boxes I’d find on eBay, they were more fun and exciting. In a way, their cheapness made them more enjoyable because the items were so random. I found everything from rubber ducks to cheap Nazi memorabilia. What I didn’t know was that this old hobby I had picked up would soon turn into a horror story.
It was 2 years ago. I’m ok now (well as ok as you can be after this). I’ve been seeing a therapist who has been great in helping me through my trauma, but the scars of what happened are still with me to this day.
I ordered another one of these boxes from the dark web. It started same as all the other ones, more weird trash. Except, this time, it contained a DVD and a hand written letter that simply stated “Whatever you do, do NOT throw these items away. You WILL need them.”
I had encountered cryptic messages in these boxes before. They were part of the mysterious/creepy aesthetic to them, and never actually meant anything. But I had a strange feeling that I should listen to this message, and thank God I did, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be here. I shoved the box into a corner and put the DVD in my laptop.
The screen was black with no picture or sound, and it stayed this way for about a minute when a message in a strange font appeared on the screen. It read, “Thank you for helping us with our project. You have been chosen to participate in The Game. Good luck.” The video ended and that was the end of it.
Now, I had gotten some weird stuff in these boxes before, but something about this was unsettling to me. I went back and checked through the box, and there was nothing special about the items inside. Everything seemed like the same weird shit I always got. I shook my head and told myself this was just some creepy piece the seller included and nothing more, but, to be safe, I decided I would keep the box. With that, I went to bed.
Nothing happened for the next week. Life carried on as usual until I arrived home from work on Friday evening and went to check my email. There, I found a message from an anonymous user I had never spoken to before.
“Greetings Contestant B. Your first challenge begins today. Check your medicine cabinet.”
I’ve opened countless mystery boxes, including over a dozen from the dark web. Sometimes they were creepy, but in that fun kind of way. But this time, I was genuinely freaked out. I peaked behind my shoulder half expecting some masked serial killer to jump out and stab me like some horror flick. I felt like a scared child again as the wind blowing against my window made me jump.
I grabbed a bat I kept under my bed and made my way to the bathroom. Odds are, this is just some kind of prank, I assured myself. That didn’t really help, and halfway down the hallway I nearly had a heart attack as I heard the sound of bells behind me, only to realize it was one of my cat’s balls, which briefly interrupted my fear as I realized I had forgotten to feed her. I’ll get to it in a second, I thought to myself.
I crept into the bathroom, bat at the ready to swing at the heads of any intruders. I flipped on the light and flinched as I prepared myself to swing, only to see my empty, normal bathroom. I let out a sigh of relief and lowered my bat before realizing it wasn’t over; I still hadn’t checked the medicine cabinet.
I slowly opened the door to the medicine cabinet half expecting anthrax or something to fly out of it. I kept my eyes on the mirror the entire time, my mind racing with thoughts of a psycho jumping out from the closet behind. I slowly creaked open the small door, and, just like with my bathroom, the medicine cabinet was completely normal. Toothpaste, razors, Advil…Nothing out of the ordinary. I dropped my bat and chuckled at myself for being so foolish. What was I really expecting?
I searched the rest of my house for possible intruders just to be safe. I searched all of my closets, cabinets, even the attic. Nobody nor any signs of anyone was anywhere to be found and I eventually carried on with my nightly routine only to be interrupted by the sound of bells. It was, again, my cat’s ball. I still hadn’t fed her. I tiredly made my way to prepare her food, a mixture of wet and dry, the only way she’d eat it. I rattled her bowl a few times to alert her, and made my way to bed.
I didn’t sleep long. I kept having nightmares that there was some deranged maniac in my house trying to kill me. I woke up at around 3 AM with a pounding headache, which I assumed was from the stress earlier.
Rolling out of bed, I stumbled my way to the bathroom, still keeping an eye out for any potential serial killers. I told myself it was stupid and nobody was there, but it was like that irrational paranoia you get after watching a horror film. I washed my face, peed, and decided to take an Advil. Opening the bottle, I attempted to pour a couple of pills in my hand only for two small green colored capsules to come out. My sleepy state instantly vanished as I jumped awake. I don’t know what these things were, but they sure as hell weren’t Advil.
I studied them for a moment wondering what they were, when I suddenly remembered the email I received earlier: “Check the medicine cabinet.”
I flipped the bottle up to look inside to see a small piece of folded paper. Dumping it into my hand, I unraveled it to find that it was a small, but very detailed, map of some place I was unsure of.
At this point, I was terrified. Whoever I bought that mystery box from had sent me that email and, apparently, been in my house. Grabbing a pair of scissors off my bathroom shelf—the closest I had to a weapon–I raced to my room to grab my phone, ready to call 911. That’s when I noticed the map had something scribbled on the back. “Do NOT call the police or anyone else, you WILL regret it.”
Underneath those sinister words was scribbled several addresses and a drawing of a gun. I felt bile rise to the back of my throat as I realized those were the addresses of my parents, sister, and best friend. Whoever this person was, I had no doubt they were capable of committing murder.
To this day, I wonder if I should have called the police anyway. Perhaps it would have saved me from the trauma that was about to unfold, or maybe this person would have actually killed those I love the most. Either way, I complied and sat down the phone. Whoever this person was, they knew the address of my family, they were likely dangerous, and they were capable of entering my house without me ever knowing. They weren’t someone I wanted to piss off. I was playing this “game” now, and I knew there was no way out.
I stared at that map for what seemed like hours, racking my brain trying to figure out where it was. I studied every detail hoping to find some kind of identifiable feature. It was a print out of something that appeared to be from google maps, only with markings on it like a child’s treasure map. Spaces were drawn throughout it leading to an X.
There were no identifiable markings on the map and no way for me to figure out what or where it was. This prompted me to look at the other side again—the one with the addresses—to discover that there was a set of numbers written in very fine print at the bottom, so small I could barely make out what they were.
At first, I assumed this must be another address or something, only to notice they were dotted with small degrees symbols. These were coordinates, and I quickly entered them into google which took me to a small park outside of town, only around 30 minutes away.
By this point, I could see faint rays of morning light shining through my bedroom blinds. It hadn’t seemed like that long, but morning was here. Not knowing what else to do, I resolved myself to go to this park. I know this seems stupid, but in this situation and with only a few hours sleep, I felt it was my only option.
I didn’t want to go to this park, and every part of my mind was telling me this was a terrible idea. This is the kind of dumb shit people in horror movies do, I thought to myself. I was just about to give it up and not go when images of my family darted through my mind. Two things were true. Either this person was pulling some elaborate, sick prank, in which case nothing would happen…Or they were dangerous, which meant if I didn’t comply my family would likely be at risk. If it was the latter, I’d rather put myself in danger than them. Besides, I’m the one who bought that cursed box.
Armed with nothing but a baseball bat again, I made the drive to the park. My mind raced the entire drive. I considered contacting a friend to come with me, but if police weren’t allowed I assumed that wouldn’t be either. I imagined myself ending up on one of those supposed dark web red rooms or my body being harvested for organs. Normally, I would have thought those were nothing more than fake horror stories about the dark web, but after this I wasn’t so sure.
Early in the morning, traffic was good and the park wasn’t very far, so it didn’t take long to arrive there. I almost chuckled looking at the sight of the park. It was so ordinary and peaceful, completely unlike the reasons I was there for.
The spaces on the map began at what looked like the entrance to the park, so I started there and carefully followed the map, which lead me to a waist high brick wall.
I scanned the wall and the surrounding area looking for signs of recently dug ground. I didn’t know if I was looking for a person or something else, but after seeing nobody there, I assumed it must be something buried. The map was drawn like a child’s treasure map, so I figured it must be buried treasure.
Not far from where I was standing, I saw a pile of loose bricks that stuck out. I made my way to them and began to remove them and, just as I expected, the ground underneath looked freshly dug. I grabbed a nearby stick and began digging.
It was a small box not buried deep in the ground. It was black metal with a steel lock clamped on the front preventing me from opening it. Underneath the box, another small note was attached: “Do you like DVDs? I like enigmas.”
I stared at the message for a moment, dumbfounded. Here I was with a locked metal box and some cryptic message, with no idea what it could mean. I didn’t even know what the word “enigma” meant and had to google the definition: “a person or thing that is mysterious, puzzling, or difficult to understand.”
Ok, I thought to myself. DVDS and mysterious messages. I was confused by how obvious this seemed. The “game,” as this person called it, started with a DVD. I the DVD assumed must have had a double meaning.
I made my way home with the box and placed the DVD in my laptop again, frequently scanning my eyes around my room hoping to not see whoever this person was. The DVD took a few moments to load again, and the same message appeared on my screen: “Thank you for helping us with our project. You have been chosen to participate in The Game. Good luck.”
I tried turning the audio up high to see if there was something I couldn’t hear, but that revealed nothing other than static. Then I tried playing the DVD backwards hoping maybe they backtrack recorded some message, but, again, nothing. Finally, I started the disc from beginning and played it frame by frame; maybe something would briefly appear in one of the frames I was unable to catch when it played normally. Still, nothing.
At this point, I was beginning to wonder if I had misunderstood the message written under the black box, but I was convinced it must be something with the DVD. That’s when I noticed that a few of the letters had a slightly darker color to them, which was hard to notice against the black background.
The letters were the “T” in “Thank;” the “H” in “Helping;” the “E” in “project;” the “C” in “chosen;” and the “A” and “T” in “participate: “The Cat.”
“The Cat…” I muttered out loud to myself. “The Cat!” Shit! “The Cat.”
I jumped from my chair and raced to my kitchen. I realized now how strange it was that I hadn’t seen my cat the night before despite checking everywhere in the house when I was looking for an intruder. Her bowl lay on the white tiled floor of the kitchen, full of the food I had poured her last night. She never ate it.
“Macy!” I shouted, rattling the bowl. “Macy! Come here girl!” She never came.
I continued to shout her name hoping she was just sleeping somewhere, but there was no sign of her. Did this bastard kill my cat?, I thought to myself, as the fear I felt turned into anger. The rules were supposed to be that if I played this “game” this person wouldn’t hurt my family, which I guess didn’t include pets.
After several minutes of shouting until my throat was raw, I decided to search the house again. Maybe, by some chance, she was just hiding somewhere I didn’t look. After all, I had only checked places a human could hide at. I never checked the various nooks and cranies a cat could fit. I told myself that’s probably all it was, but I knew she was likely in danger. Or worse.
I shook the thought of her death out of my head and tried my best to convince myself she was only hiding somewhere as I frantically searched the house. I searched the cabinets, under my bed, window sills behind curtains…Everywhere. She was nowhere to be found.
Finally, I found her laying behind the refrigerator. There was a small gap between the fridge and the wall, barely big enough for her to fit. At first glance, she seemed fine but she still wouldn’t come when I called her. Maybe she’s just freaked out by the person who broke into my house, I thought to myself.
I pulled the fridge out and snatched her up. Nothing appeared wrong with her physically, to which I was greatly relieved. However, she still wasn’t acting right. She was normally perky and excited, but now she was sluggish and barely responsive. Then, as I was petting her back, I felt something hard in her left thigh.
I sat her down to see what this lump was, and I could see that she was missing fur around her thigh. Upon further inspection, I could see a small lump protruding out with stiches around it. My heart sank as I realized this person had sewn something inside of my cat.
I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. My first thought was to take her to the vet, that seemed like the most obvious thing to do. The vet would inevitably, though, want to know how the hell this happened. If I wasn’t supposed to contact police or anyone else, I doubted I would be allowed to contact a vet. This meant there would only be one way for me to get this thing out of her, and that meant I would have to do it myself. The stitches looked loose, so I grabbed a pair of scissors and began to work on them.
Now, I know what you’re all probably thinking reading this. It still bothers me, too. Maybe I should have taken her to the vet, but, in this situation, this seemed like the best option. I kept thinking about that map with the addresses of those closest to me written on it. I couldn’t risk something happening to them, and if I broke the rules of this “game,” who’s to say this person wouldn’t come back to further hurt my cat anyway?
It didn’t take long to remove the stitches. Fortunately, whatever was hidden in Macy’s thigh was only skin deep and not near anything vital. She’ll have a scar, but she should survive, I thought to myself as I removed the last of the stitches.
Peeling back the thin layer of skin, I found the source of the lump. A small, silver key. I immediately knew this was probably for the metal box I retrieved from the park, but I was in no rush to open it. I had to do my best to doctor on my cat, who had remained calm the entire time I removed the stitches. I think she knew I was helping her.
Finally, after I applied the last of the peroxide to my cat’s wound, I went to see if this key fit the metal box. Just as I expected, the key worked. A small USB lay inside.
I plugged the USB into my laptop, expecting to see another message with a hidden code, but to my shock a video started playing. It was a dark, dimly lit concrete room. A woman sat in the middle strapped to a chair. A single light bulb dangled above her, and she had a black sack draped over her head.
She just sat there, unmoving aside from occasionally shivering. I could hear faint, but muffled whimpering which I assumed came from her. Maybe she’s gagged, I thought. Suddenly, a masked man wearing an all black suit popped into frame.
He menacingly walked behind the woman and stared into the camera. As he placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, she flinched and the whimpering turned into muffled screaming. She began to jerk as hard as she could in her bound state, but I could tell it would do her no good. The man lifted another hand revealing a knife and brandished it towards the woman’s throat. She continued to jerk.
The screen went black as words flashed across the frame. “Come now, get in your car and begin driving. There, you’ll be given further instructions. And remember, do not contact anyone else. I’ll know and you wont be the only one to regret it.”
I was shaking. This was only getting worse. What started as a creepy treasure hunt was turning violent. First my cat and now some woman, who I had no doubt that if I didn’t comply the masked man would kill her. This was when I resolved myself to the fact I was likely going to die. I didn’t know what this “game” was or how it might end, but I assumed this must be some kind of sick entertainment for some psychopath who wanted to see me suffer. And I knew there was nothing I could do about it. If I tried to hide, this person would likely kill my family. It was my choice to buy the mystery box that started this, which meant it was my responsibility to see it through. If I died, so be it.
I got in my car and started driving. I wasn’t sure what these “instructions” would be and I wondered if there was some clue in my car. Before I had a chance to search, my phone began ringing. It was an unknown number, but I knew who it was.
“Hello?” I answered, my voice shacking.
“Hello Bradley,“ a menacing male voice responded. He had a mocking tone to his voice.
“Wh–what am I supposed to do?” I asked. He began laughing. The fear in my voice must have amused him. He gave me the address of an abandoned building not far from where I lived and not told me to come to the basement.
“I suggest you hurry, I don’t think this woman has much time left” he said with a laugh. With that, he hung up.
I raced my way to this building, any thought of my own safety forgotten. I no longer cared what may happen to me, but I did not want some innocent woman to be killed for my mistake of playing around on the dark web. I arrived at the building, an old music shop that had been closed since the 80’s. Closing my eyes, I said a short prayer.
The door to the building was unlocked. Inside was a long, dark hallway with no sign anyone had been there. At the end of the hallway was an open door to a staircase leading to what I assumed was the basement. I stammered my way towards the stairs, mentally preparing myself for what was about to happen.
As I expected, the stairs led to a basement with two glass rooms. One of the rooms held the woman I had seen in the video, the sack over her head was gone, but she sat hunched over with her blonde hair covering her face. The other room had two people, a man and a woman. They were gagged but not masked. I’ll never forget the look of fear I saw in them as they locked eyes with me.
The sound of my footsteps must have alerted the hunched over woman. I could see her shiver, but she still sat hunched over as if trying to hide from the footsteps. “It’s ok” I said. “I’m not going to hurt any of you.”
At the sound of my voice, the woman shot up and stared straight into my eyes. I’ll never forget the sense of dread I felt as I realized it was my sister.
“What the hell is going on!” I shouted as I ran towards the glass walls she was locked behind. “The rules were you wouldn’t hurt any of my family as long as I complied!” I began to frantically bang on the glass in an attempt to break it.
A TV screen in the far corner of the room suddenly turned on. I turned to look at it and saw the same masked man from the video earlier. Judging by the way his eyes followed me around the room, I realized this was a live stream and not a recording.
“Hello again, Contestant B,” he said. “You have reached your final challenge. In 30 seconds, the vents above the glass cells will release a noxious gas. This gas will kill whoever is inside in minutes. In front of each cell is a button” he pointed in direction of the cell with the man and woman in it. A small black button sat by the door.
“This button will turn off the gas, saving whoever is inside. However, those in the other cell will die. You have 60 seconds to decide who will live, or they all die. Timer starts now. Good luck Contestant B.”
I immediately charged towards my sister’s cell. I understood the point now. I had to choose between my sister or two strangers I didn’t know. The more ethical choice likely would have been to save the man and the woman, but I couldn’t let my sister die.
I was just about to slam the black button to save my sister when she began to yell as loud as she could through the cloth that gagged her mouth. She was frantically banging her towards the other two. I could tell she wanted me to save them. A buzz rang out, and the vents opened. I didn’t have much time left, and I didn’t care what my sister wanted. I slammed my fist down on her button.
She screamed louder than ever. I expected the glass door to her cell to open, but instead the vent above her just closed. The man and the woman in the other cell began to cry as I sealed their fate.
The most horrible moments of my life ensued. I watched as the man and the woman slowly chocked to death. I don’t know what the gas was, but it wasn’t long until they began to cough blood and their eyes turned to the most sickly red color. I had to watch as they slowly died what I could only imagine to be an excruciating death. My sister continued to yell through her gag. I couldn’t tell what she was trying to say, but I could tell she was angry.
I don’t know how long it took for the man and the woman to go completely limp. It was likely only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. After it was clear they were no longer alive, though, the door to my sister’s cell shot open. I went to go untie her, when a closet door from behind burst open. The masked man walked in, clapping.
“Congratulations, Contestant B!” he shouted with an unsettling cheerfulness to his voice. “You’ve won!”
He reached behind his back and threw a small bag at me. I reached down to open it, and it was full of 100$ bills. He stared at me dumbfounded, as if I was supposed to be excited about my “prize.”
He didn’t say anything else. He turned and left the building. I untied my sister and called the police, who could barely believe what I and my sister told them.
To this day, so many things don’t make sense to me. What were the other items in the mystery box for? I was told I would need them for something and not to throw them away. What was this “game” I was playing? Who was the masked man? What were the green pills in my Advil bottle?
My life was ruined after this ordeal. My sister no longer talks to me, and I’ve spent the past two years in therapy. I’ve been dealing with PTSD and chronic depression, and considered suicide more times than I care to admit. What haunts me most isn’t what happened to the man and woman (who the police said were a married couple), but who was “Contestant A?” I was Contestant “B.” Was that because my name is “Bradley,” or were there others out there experiencing the same trauma I did?
Most of all, I wonder if it still isn’t over. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I have kept that box and sometimes go throw the items within, wondering if I missed something. That’s why I’m writing this now. I checked my email today and found a message from an anonymous user: “Hello again, Contestant B. Have you kept the box? I hope you did. You’re going to need it again.”