*ABOUT: The Unknown Missing Persons Initiative (UMPI) was founded in 1974 by the father of a missing persons. This now online-based institution is focused on attempting to not only solve missing persons cases, but also to attempt to make evidence that is deemed useless by the authorities, useful. We take photos, entries, and videos from online message boards and forums and share them where we think they can be analyzed for answers. If you know anything, no matter how small, about the content we circulate please message us as soon as possible. Thanks to people like you, we can bring closure to victims and their families, and justice to the people who deserve it.*
UMPR #683
BACKGROUND: Found in a forum on the messaging site “CONNECTIONS”, under various usernames. primarily used for those who experience loneliness and who wish to meet others in the same situation. It has been posted dozens of times, with one small change: The dates mentioned move forward a day every time it is posted. We can’t be certain if this is a fictional story or not, but what stands out is the amount it has been repeated, and the response of those who read it. Many of those who responded on the forum thought it was a joke at first, but later began to express their concern. Speculations range from someone observing their captive and writing from their perspective in some form of game to a raving madman stuck in one of those Y2K or 2012 era bunkers. We cannot draw any conclusions yet, and this could simply be an odd joke, but if you have any information please contact us.
REPORT:
wakeupwakeupwakeup Who is he? Where is he? He gets out of his cot. Wipes his eyes, checks his surroundings. Grey walls. No windows. Low ceiling. His head hurts. Mouth dry. The burns on his back ache, throbbing in sync with his rapidly beating heart. The medication did not help. Sick. Tired. Weak. Where is he?
thecalendarcheckthecalendar He looks to the tattered mountain landscape on the wall. November. November 15th. November 15th, 2079. A loosely taped red pen dangles on a string. crossitout He adds a red ‘X’ over the box for November 14th.
eateatsohungryeat He walks to the stained and dusty cardboard boxes beside his bed and pulls out a tin. Cold. So cold. Winter is coming soon. He misses them so much. Who were they? He liked them. He misses them. He uses a knife to open the can. Green paste. Bland chunks of meat. Salty. No choice. What if he didn’t eat? What if he didn’t wake up? That wouldn’t be bad. No. He has to keep going. For them. Who were they? He missed them.
drinkpleasesothirstydrinkdrink A new box. A small bottle. The water is so good. Plastic flavored. Warm. No matter. So good. Stomach full. Sleepy. Not yet. Don’t sleep yet. Is it morning? Night? Not that it means anything. No clock, no sun, no time. Where is he? Who is he? He forgets his name.
sitsitthinksitsit All the books have been read. The pens and pencils worn out or empty. The papers written full of thoughts and words, or burnt. He sits. He tries to think. Nothing. Inside his mind-
Empty. Nothing.
sleepsleeptimetosleepnow He gets into bed. Where is he? Who is he? He misses them so much. Who were they? He misses it all so much? What was it? When did he lose it? Where is he? Goodnight. Good morning. Tomorrow. November 16th. Soon his calendar will end. Maybe he won’t wake up. He might. Who is he? Goodnight.
*END OF REPORT*