This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/ezekiel_h_graves on 2024-11-14 09:11:58+00:00.

I don’t even know where to start. I feel like I’m losing my mind, but I need to get this out. Maybe someone can help me understand what’s happening before it’s too late.

A few days ago, I noticed something strange in my group chat. At first, it was little things—messages coming in out of order, or disappearing before I could read them. Then I got a text, from my own account, saying, “I see you, Jack.” I thought maybe it was a hack, or some glitch, so I messaged my mate Dave to see if he’d noticed anything weird.

But when he finally replied, it was something chilling: “We’re watching you.” I asked him what he meant, but my phone froze before I could read his response. When it finally unfroze, the chat was empty, like every message had been wiped clean. I tried calling him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Every friend in the group chat was unreachable.

Desperate, I started scrolling back through old messages, hoping for some clue, and that’s when I saw phrases I’d never noticed before, messages in the chat that made no sense:

“Initiate Protocol A4. Target: Jack. Sequence: Integration Complete.”

I stared at the words, feeling the hair on my arms stand up. I didn’t remember seeing any of this before. Confused, I went back to my home screen and found an app I’d never installed: Phantom Network.

I tapped on it, and a map appeared, centred on my location, with a single red dot marking my house. All around it, other dots blinked in and out, each labelled with strange usernames I’d never seen before. And then a message popped up:

“Welcome, Jack. You are now connected.”

I didn’t type anything, but another message appeared as if I’d responded automatically.

“What is this?”

The response came instantly.

“You are part of the Phantom Network. Integration is almost complete.”

My skin prickled with cold. Integration? What did that even mean? I tried to close the app, but my phone froze again, locking me into the screen. Just as I was about to restart it, the map zoomed in, showing my location in eerie detail—the layout of my house, my exact room, and… the small blinking dots surrounding it.

When I looked closer, I realised each dot was connected by a thin line. My friends, my family, even my coworkers—everyone I knew, highlighted on the map like a web, all connected to my dot in the centre. As I stared, a chat window opened up, and messages flooded in.

“Where are you?”

“Jack, please answer us!”

“It’s here, Jack. It’s coming.”

The messages were desperate, frantic, and they were all from people I knew—except the words didn’t make sense. I tried to reply, to ask what was happening, but my words came out garbled, like they were being intercepted.

Then, the app sent me a photo—a picture of my house, taken from right outside my window.

I ran to the window, looking out into the dark, but there was nothing there, just an empty street. My heart pounded as I glanced back at my phone. Another message appeared:

“You can’t hide from us, Jack. Integration is forever.”

I don’t know how else to describe it, but I feel… watched. Every time I try to delete the app, it reappears with that same message. And every time it comes back, another person in my life goes dark.

Yesterday, I went to check on Dave. But when I got to his flat, the place was empty. A neighbour told me that no one named Dave had ever lived there. His number no longer works. It’s like he never existed.

Then, I went to Rachel’s office, only to be told the same thing—no one there had ever heard of her. Every trace of them, every piece of evidence of their existence, is gone. When I try to ask other friends, they look at me like I’m insane. No one remembers them. It’s like they’ve been erased from reality, pulled into whatever this “Phantom Network” is, leaving no trace behind.

The worst part is that now, when I look at the map, I see new dots—people I barely know, old acquaintances, neighbours I’ve barely spoken to—all appearing on the map, each with a thin line connecting them to me, pulsing as if they’re alive.

I’m terrified to sleep, terrified to close my eyes, because every time I wake up, someone else is gone.

Just now, my phone buzzed with another message from the app:

“It’s your turn, Jack. Integration is complete.”

And as I look around my room, I swear… there’s a shadow standing in the corner, watching, waiting.

I don’t know how much longer I have. If you’re reading this, and you don’t hear from me again, just know this: whatever the Phantom Network is, it’s spreading. And once it finds you, there’s no escape.