BE VERY CAREFUL. If you get this, you are infected with “Take Me”
It starts with a message. Just a few words—cryptic, jarring: “BE VERY CAREFUL. If you get this, you are infected with Take Me.” You think it’s a joke. Maybe spam. But the message lingers. It’s not from a number you recognize, but it knew your name. It was typed in your native language, casually inserted between your group chats and work emails.
Then things start to happen. Your phone screen flickers. The flashlight turns on by itself at night. Your playlist starts playing a song you never downloaded—something eerie, unfamiliar, with a woman whispering in a language you don’t understand.
You ask around. Your friends brush it off. But one of them, Jonah, takes a closer look. “I’ve seen something like this,” he says, frowning. “It’s not a virus, not in the usual sense. It’s… folklore turned digital.”
You laugh it off, but deep down, something shifts.
A few days pass. You forget about the message—until you start dreaming. Always the same dream. A forest. A woman in white. A voice saying, “Take me.” Over and over. You wake up at exactly 3:33 a.m. each night, drenched in sweat. You try deleting the message, factory resetting your phone. It doesn’t help.
Jonah disappears the next week. His phone goes straight to voicemail. His apartment is locked from the inside, empty. On the wall, written in black marker, is the phrase: “She chose him.”
Now you know it wasn’t just a message—it was an invitation. Or maybe a summons.
You dig deeper, scouring the web. You find a thread on a deep web forum titled “TAKE ME—The Infection That Thinks.” It’s filled with accounts from people all over the world describing the same symptoms: strange dreams, vanishing friends, a growing sense that someone—or something—is watching them. No one knows where it started. Some say it was an old curse, digitized by accident. Others believe it’s a sentient program feeding on attention and fear.
One post stands out. It’s dated a week before you got the message. It reads:
“You have seven days. Don’t reply. Don’t forward it. Don’t speak her name out loud. And whatever you do, don’t say you believe. That’s how she gets in.”
You read the post again. And again. Your hands start to shake. Because you did say it. You told Jonah. You believed.
Now it’s day six.
Your reflection lags behind your movements in the mirror. Your phone buzzes at random hours with no notifications. You swear you hear someone whispering your name through your earbuds even when no music is playing.
It’s no longer about ignoring the message. It’s about surviving what’s coming.
And as the seventh day dawns, you understand the final truth.
She doesn’t just want to be taken.
She wants you to take her.
