There's a part of the internet no one talks about—a place filled with things that shouldn't exist, and yet, they do. It's not the dark web, not some hidden forum where hackers and criminals meet. It's something far more sinister. Something that doesn't want to be found, but when it finds you, it's already too late.
I had heard rumors about it for years. A video clip—just a few minutes long. You watch it, and within days, you're dead. No one knows exactly what happens, but the deaths are brutal, gruesome, and merciless. People vanish, only to be found in horrifying conditions—bodies torn apart, faces twisted in terror. And there's no evidence, no clues, nothing that could explain how it happened. All they find is the clip on your device.
I never believed in it, of course. It sounded like another urban legend, the kind people spread online to freak each other out. But that was before the clip found me.
It all started with a message from my best friend, Ryan. We hadn't spoken in weeks, and out of the blue, he sent me a text.
"Dude, you gotta check this out. It's insane."
Attached to the message was a video file. It didn't have a title, just a random string of letters and numbers, like someone had hastily uploaded it without caring to name it properly. I almost ignored it, but curiosity got the better of me. Ryan had always been into weird stuff, but this felt… different.
I clicked on the file.
The video started with static, a flickering screen that made my skin crawl. Then, the static faded, and a dark, grainy image appeared—a room, barely illuminated by a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The camera was shaky, like someone was filming it by hand, and the sound quality was terrible—just a low hum, almost like a growl.
Suddenly, a figure appeared in the corner of the screen. It was a man, but there was something wrong with him. His movements were jerky, unnatural, like a puppet being controlled by invisible strings. His face was blurred, but I could make out enough to see that it was twisted into a disturbing grin, his eyes wide and vacant.
The man moved closer to the camera, his body convulsing as if he was struggling to control himself. The closer he got, the louder the hum became, turning into a deep, guttural growl that sent chills down my spine. And then, just as he was about to reach the camera, the video cut to black.
That was it. Just a few seconds of pure horror, and then nothing.
I sat there, staring at my screen, feeling a pit form in my stomach. Something about the video felt… wrong. It wasn't just the content—it was the way it made me feel, like I had just witnessed something I wasn't supposed to. Something I couldn't unsee.
I texted Ryan back.
"What the hell is this?"
No response.
I called him, but it went straight to voicemail. A feeling of unease settled over me. I tried to shake it off, telling myself it was just a prank, some weird video Ryan found online. But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
The next day, I got a call from Ryan's mom. She was frantic, her voice trembling.
"Have you seen Ryan? He didn't come home last night, and no one's heard from him. I'm so worried, please let me know if you hear anything!"
My heart sank. Ryan was never the type to disappear without a word. I told his mom I hadn't heard from him since the text, but I didn't mention the video. I didn't want to make her worry even more.
Days passed, and still no word from Ryan. His disappearance was all over the news, but there were no leads, no clues. He had just vanished.
Then, the nightmares started.
I kept seeing the man from the video—his twisted face, his jerky movements. He would stand at the foot of my bed, watching me with those vacant eyes. Every time I tried to move, I couldn't. I was paralyzed, trapped in my own body as the man inched closer and closer. And just before he reached me, I would wake up, drenched in sweat.
I tried to tell myself it was just a coincidence, that the video had nothing to do with Ryan's disappearance. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how wrong I was.
One night, as I lay in bed, unable to sleep, my phone buzzed. I grabbed it, hoping it was some news about Ryan. Instead, it was a message from an unknown number.
"You're next."
My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at the screen. I tried to call the number, but it was disconnected. Panicking, I deleted the message and turned off my phone. But the fear stayed with me, gnawing at the edges of my mind.
The next morning, I checked my phone again. There was another message from the same unknown number, this time with a video file attached. My stomach dropped.
I didn't want to open it. I knew what would happen if I did. But some part of me, the part that couldn't let go of Ryan, had to know the truth. With shaking hands, I clicked on the file.
It was the same video—the same dark room, the same flickering lightbulb, the same twisted man. But this time, something was different. As the man moved closer to the camera, I noticed something behind him—another figure, barely visible in the shadows.
It was Ryan.
He was standing in the corner of the room, his face pale and lifeless, his eyes staring blankly ahead. I wanted to scream, to throw my phone across the room, but I couldn't move. I was frozen in place, watching as the man approached the camera again, his grin widening.
And then, just before the video cut to black, the man spoke.
"You're next."
I dropped the phone, my heart racing. This wasn't just some urban legend. The video was real, and it was coming for me.
I spent the next few days trying to figure out what to do. I couldn't go to the police—they'd think I was crazy. I couldn't tell my parents—they'd just worry. And every night, the nightmares got worse. The man was getting closer, his breath hot on my skin, his twisted grin burned into my mind.
Then, one night, I had a different dream.
In this dream, I wasn't in my room. I was back in the dark room from the video, standing in the same spot where Ryan had been. The man was there too, but this time, he wasn't alone.
There was a girl with him—a girl I didn't recognize. She was beautiful, with long, dark hair and soft, kind eyes. But there was something sad about her, something broken.
The man turned to her, his grin faltering for the first time. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to…"
The girl placed a hand on his arm, her touch gentle. "I know," she said softly. "But it's time to let go."
The man looked at her for a long moment, his eyes filling with regret. Then, slowly, he nodded. As he did, the room around us began to dissolve, fading into darkness. The man and the girl disappeared, and I woke up.
When I opened my eyes, I felt different. Lighter, somehow. The fear that had been suffocating me for days was gone. And for the first time since Ryan's disappearance, I felt like I understood what had happened.
The next day, I started researching. I needed to know more about the video, about the man, and about the girl. It took hours of digging, but eventually, I found an old news article—a story about a man named Ethan Wells, who had been a serial killer in the 1990s.
According to the article, Ethan had killed several people, all of them women, over the course of two years. But what made his case particularly disturbing was that his last victim had been his girlfriend, Sarah Coleman. The police believed Ethan had killed her in a fit of jealousy, suspecting she was cheating on him. But after her death, Ethan had disappeared, and no one had ever found his body.
I sat back in my chair, chills running down my spine. The man in the video was Ethan. He had been killing people, over and over again, through the cursed video clip. But Sarah… she had been innocent. She had never betrayed him.
That's why Ethan couldn't rest. He had killed the one person he loved, the one person who had never wronged him. And now, he was trapped, reliving his guilt and anger, taking it out on anyone who watched the video.
But the girl in my dream… that had been Sarah. She had come to him, to free him from the curse. To help him let go.
That's when I realized what I had to do.
I searched for the video clip on my phone, my hands trembling. It was still there, waiting. I knew the risk I was taking—if I watched it again, Ethan could come for me. But something inside me told me that I was different. That Sarah was watching over me, just as she had been watching over Ethan.
With a deep breath, I clicked on the video.
This time, the clip was different. The dark room was gone. Instead, I saw a field, bathed in golden sunlight. Ethan was there, standing at the edge of the field, looking out into the distance. He turned to face the camera, his expression no longer twisted in anger, but peaceful.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft. "I'm sorry for everything."
Then, Sarah appeared beside him, taking his hand. They smiled at each other, and together, they walked into the light.
The video ended, and for the first time in days, I felt at peace.
The curse was broken.
Ethan and Sarah were finally at rest.