This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/GasolineDrinker89 on 2024-07-02 00:39:04+00:00.

The notification appeared on my phone out of nowhere—no download, no prompt, just a mysterious icon labeled “FateFinder.” Curiosity mingled with unease as I tapped on it, half-expecting my phone to glitch or freeze. Instead, the app launched seamlessly, displaying a stark message: “Do you want to know if you will be murdered?”

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen. The rational part of my mind screamed that this was nonsense, a prank or a marketing gimmick gone wrong. But a nagging curiosity compelled me to tap “Yes.” What harm could a silly app do, anyway?

The screen flickered, processing my request, before displaying the chilling words: “Your friend, Jerome, will be your murderer.” My blood ran cold as a shiver crept down my spine. Jerome, my best friend since college, the guy who had stood by me through thick and thin—how could this be possible?

I tried to shake off the app’s prediction as absurd. Jerome was loyal, dependable, the last person I would suspect of harboring dark intentions. But the seed of doubt had been planted, and it took root in the recesses of my mind, growing with each passing day.

FateFinder didn’t let me forget its prediction. Periodic reminders popped up at the most inconvenient times—during meetings, in the middle of the night, even when I was out with friends. No matter how many times I tried to delete the app, it reappeared on my phone like a persistent specter, taunting me with its ominous message.

I couldn’t bear the weight of uncertainty alone, so I confided in Jerome. His reaction was a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “Come on, man, it’s just an app,” he reassured me, his voice tinged with skepticism. “You can’t seriously believe that nonsense, can you?”

I wanted to believe him, to laugh off FateFinder’s prediction as a glitch in the digital ether. But as the days turned into weeks, I found myself watching Jerome with a wary eye, analyzing his every word and gesture for any hint of deception. Each time, he remained the same steadfast friend I had always known, his easy smile and infectious laughter dispelling my doubts—for a time.

One evening, Jerome invited me over to his apartment for dinner. As we sat across from each other, savoring homemade lasagna and swapping stories, the weight of FateFinder’s prediction hung heavy in the air between us. I tried to ignore the gnawing unease in the pit of my stomach, but it was impossible to escape the app’s relentless grip on my thoughts.

After dinner, we retreated to the living room, where Jerome suggested we watch a horror movie to lighten the mood. I agreed reluctantly, my mind racing with unanswered questions and unspoken fears. The movie played on the screen, the sound of eerie music and distant screams filling the room with a palpable tension.

Halfway through the movie, Jerome excused himself to fetch more popcorn from the kitchen. Alone in the dimly lit room, I tried to focus on the movie, to lose myself in the fictional horrors unfolding on screen. But FateFinder’s prophecy loomed large in my mind, casting a shadow over everything I held dear.

Minutes stretched into an eternity as I waited for Jerome to return. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the muffled sounds of the movie playing in the background. A sense of dread settled over me like a heavy blanket, suffocating me with its oppressive weight.

Just as I was about to call out to Jerome, a piercing scream shattered the silence, echoing through the apartment with bone-chilling clarity. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I bolted from the couch, heart pounding in my chest. I raced toward the kitchen, dread clawing at my insides.

What I found there defied all logic and reason. Jerome lay sprawled on the kitchen floor, his body twisted at an unnatural angle, blood pooling around him in a dark, ominous puddle. Shock rooted me to the spot as I stared down at his lifeless form, disbelief and horror warring within me. Was the app incorrect?

The police arrived soon after, their questions a blur of noise in the haze of my fractured reality. They ruled Jerome’s death as a tragic accident, a fall down the stairs that had claimed his life in an instant. But I knew the truth—or at least, I thought I did.

Weeks passed in a blur of grief and unanswered questions. I buried myself in work, trying to drown out the nightmares that haunted my sleepless nights. But FateFinder’s prediction lingered in the darkest corners of my mind, a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the unpredictability of fate.

One night, as I lay awake in bed, tormented by memories of that fateful evening, a notification from FateFinder flashed on my phone. With trembling hands, I opened the app, half-expecting to see Jerome’s face staring back at me from the screen. Instead, a new message appeared, sending a chill down my spine: “You will be your own murderer.”

The words hit me like a sledgehammer, their implications too horrifying to comprehend. Had FateFinder been right all along, not about Jerome but about me? Was I destined to meet the same tragic fate that had befallen my best friend?

In a desperate bid for answers, I delved deeper into the app’s interface, scouring every menu and submenu for clues. But there were no explanations, no rationalizations—only the cold, unfeeling words of a digital oracle that had shattered my world beyond repair.

As soon as I set my phone down, I received a notification from FateFinder. “Incoming video call, say hi to Jerome!”