Creepypasta stories!

Haunted Akinator

If you’re like I used to be, you surf the internet, hoping to find something to do. Chances are, your friends send you links once in a while to neat websites that provide instanthappiness or hilarity. One such website hosts a virtual entity known as the Akinator. I’d heard of him, but never really tried him out until my friends told me to at a party one night. I’ll never forget that night; it was the night my mind began to fade and decay into the insanity that surrounds it now. I’ll never be able to stop wondering if anybody’s standing behind me because of that fucking thing, but I have to deal with it. I have to be as strong as I can to make it through life. It’s just…unnerving when you constantly feel like someone’s watching you. I’ll do the best I can to tell you, but only because I want people to know of the horror that ended my security’s life.

As I said before, it all began at a party, when my friends told me to try it out. Being dazed out of my mind, I decided to give it a shot with them beside me. Basically, the Akinator guesses a character you’re thinking of. It tells you to get a character, real or fictional, inside your mind, while it starts playing a demented version of 20 Questions to figure it out. More often than not, it succeeds. Sometimes you can trip it up, but that doesn’t happen too often, or so my friends told me. I started with something easy for it; since my friends and I were a little high, we thought of the funniest character that we could at the time: Shrek. The virtual genie guessed correctly almost immediately, obviously. The more known a character is, the easier it is to guess, I suppose. It freaked me out how fast it guessed correctly, though. My friends thought nothing of it, but as I stared that genie in the face, I couldn’t help but notice that it was staring back at me. My eye twitched, but I attributed that to the marijuana-laced air. They were laughing at each other while I stared at the screen like a deer at headlights, but their jokes quickly ended when one of them turned to me, asking if I was alright. Some of them chuckled, but I didn’t blame them; they were high as kites in that moment. I didn’t turn to my friend, though. I didn’t answer him. I simply kept staring at that godforsaken genie. It didn’t even look scary or anything like that, but I didn’t once look away from that screen. It’s almost like I was hypnotized in that instant. I finally closed the browser and resumed my drug use, but I couldn’t get the image of the Akinator out of my head.

The next morning, I woke up on my bedroom floor. I wasn’t thinking about the Akniator at all, but I still felt horrible from the night before. I coughed a lot, couldn’t see well, and had to try especially hard to keep my balance. However, I stumbled over to my computer, and turned it on. Before I even opened upInternet Explorer, though, a command prompt opened up on my desktop. It remained blank for a few moments, and then a whole sentence popped up: “Let’s play a game. Think hard, now.” It didn’t even type out individual letters like a computer usually would; the whole phrase came up all at once. I closed it quickly, thinking nothing of it. I thought I was just seeing things, and that it was probably just a regular notification. I opened up the internet, checking my e-mail and Facebook. With nothing new on Facebook, I switched back to the Yahoo! Mail tab. It showed that I had three new e-mails, which was pretty standard. When I checked them individually, though, one of them was from an address that seemed pretty coincidental: genie@en.akinator.us. I looked it up, and an e-mail address like that didn't exist, and never had. Starting to become slightly concerned, I opened up the e-mail. It wasn’t much, but the few words that loaded nearly made me jump out of my seat. “Are you sure you don’t want to?” was displayed right in front of me. I then remember a couple of very important details: first, I never gave my e-mail address to the Akinator’s website, and second, I realized what the command prompt had really said, and that I wasn’t just seeing things. Without warning, I flinched back, falling out of my chair. I closed the internet browser, hoping that nothing else would happen. No big deal, really. I could’ve made a new e-mail account if I had wanted to.