I’m here to tell you something, something that needs to be addressed. Privacy is a big part of life, and that’s a huge fact. We want a sense of security but too much security can lead to no privacy. So what is privacy? Is it a door for the bathroom or is it your bank account not being checked by services that shouldn’t exist, or agencies that keep tabs on you and your friends and will accuse you of any sort of doings that fit your description due to what you like, what you searched on Google, what you spend money on or so on.
Some say they rather have security than privacy, and in some cases you can have both, but a lot of the time it’s cheaper to only take one side as some would think, or do you think that. Instead of finding technology to heal the wound between the separated skin of privacy and security, we decide to overlap one over the other, causing a revolt on one side, ingrowing, infesting into the wound until it no longer can be handled, but you didn’t come here for a delicious scandal between peace and war, no, you came to hear something scary, and that is what I am here for too. To tell you stories and the truth, meshed into one.
Have you ever heard of the 1975? No, not the band, but the website. In android phones if you go onto the google search engine and type the1975[dot-dot]com it will show you a variety of messages they claim to have no idea of how it was created, they simply call it a detection bug. The messages are text messages that have been received from your phone, and yes I have done it too, so has my friends. One of my friends in particular, Veronica Sanchez, had just lost her mother in December of 2017, six months ago in a car crash, and when she recently looked up the thought-to-be fake website, she saw at the bottom of her screen there was a message from “Mom”, note that she very rarely texts anyone on MMS, mostly on Facebook Messenger or Instagram Direct Messages, but she saw her mother’s text saying, “On my way, I’ll pick up McDonald’s when I get close, how’s your brother?” and after she read the message she began to tear up. I remembered because it was during 5th period at school that she decided to try it out, thinking it was some hoax or a prank. She began to think it was only a creepypasta, one of those online stories that spread from site to site, but once she began to see that her messages really did appear on her phone, she couldn’t think it was fake, not anymore.
Nice quick story huh? Has all the little kicks; first person writing, nice sad story, based on real events, all it needs now, is the ending. Gladly for us, this ending is quick and painless.
When Veronica came home to her apartment (she was eighteen, a senior in high school, and living with her boyfriend who works nights) she decided to look onto that site I told her about, she checked up on it and saw she had received messages from her boyfriend, Chris, he had said “Hey babe, some creep had just left the place talking about you and told me to tell you he said “hi” I asked what his name was and he looked back and said his name is Maxwell, do you know anyone by that name?” She looked confused, not by the message, but the fact that the site only tells you messages you have received, but this is the first time she saw her text, and plus Chris doesn’t normally text Veronica unless he needs to get directly to her in case her data was off. She checked her MMS and didn’t see his text. She was baffled. She checked back again to the1975[dot-dot]com and quickly noticed it had changed, again. A message from an out of area number had texted her saying, “You can’t hide forever. You can’t hide forever.” and then, she began to tear up in fear. She deleted the tab and quickly called her boyfriend except, there was no answer. So she ran into the room and locked the door behind her, panicking, because she started hearing music, a song was being played with a slow, wind-sounding beginning, then taps were heard, from a pair of drumsticks. Loud drumming and guitar began filling the air in her apartment, then lyrics started, “Maxwell can’t tell he’s in hell! He just wants you to visit him there!” it screamed in her ears, “Same old game that he’s playin’! His rules are never fair!” Her back hit against the closet door in her bedroom as she covered her ear, then that’s when it happened. A knife dragged across her neck from the door that was thought to be closed all the way. Her body fell across the floor as blood spilled. The man, was tall and had dark eyes and dark hair, everything about him was dark and trouble. That man, was me, Double-M, they call me, Maxwell Murder, and I walked out of that burning apartment singing to myself.
Dial 999 if you really want the truth
Dial 999 if you can’t see it through
He ain’t jack the ripper, he’s your ordinary crook
Calling Maxwell Murder for you.