Recently, a story was anonymously sent to me regarding the legend of the internet phenomenon: the Holy3. This is an experience story, I was not the one who wrote it. I was told that the names were changed for privacy reasons.
My friend and I are huge lovers of the supernatural. We were browsing some forums when we discovered the Holy3, a chatroom with seemingly omniscient mods. Curiosity set in and we took it upon ourselves to find a pdf with a link to the chatroom. After months of searching and many many forums on both the deep web through Tor and on the visible web, we were able to catch a lead and eventually find the pdf. I cannot include the link now because after the incident the link died.
We set up a night that we could stay up and chat with the Holy3 mods. When we first opened the link, we were greeted with the mod M44. Being slightly skeptical we asked simple questions like "Who are you," "What is a typical day for you," etc. We weren't able to get much information from him other than that he is no one and he just listens. Not a big surprise for someone commonly referred to as "The Listener". After some time, as expected, AndrewS appeared. As the mods stepped up, so did our questions. Questions like "What is the Empty Garden," (a place told in many other experiences with the Holy3) got us no new information but a nicely reworded version of the question. Things were getting slow and Ariana had yet to show up. Just when we were about to give up, Ariana arrived. This was when shit got serious.
According to the tale of the Holy3, Ariana is the mod who knows too much about you and can twist your psyche. My friend, being the skeptic that she was, did most of the talking with Ariana. Now my friend is pretty intelligent and level-headed, valedictorian of the class, grew up in a mostly agnostic family, all the works. Her conversation with Ariana started off fairly similar to the other mods, only Ariana gave more human responses. It was when Ariana started asking the questions that things got freaky. One of the questions was, "How's Rachel?" Now this question may seem average, but a few weeks before this, my friend's sister Rachel was diagnosed with legions on the spine resulting from a previous bout of breast cancer. My friend didn't mention any of this and simply responded with "Who's Rachel?" All Ariana said in return was, "Her back must really hurt right now." I could tell that this startled my friend, but she insisted that it was just a coincidence. She continued to chat with Ariana with no other surprises until about 15 minutes later. This time, Ariana just kept repeating, "Poor, poor, Kyle". My friend tried to steer the conversation, but every attempt was met with the same phrase. Eventually she asked what was wrong with Kyle, and in response, Ariana typed, "He must be so lonely." At first, we didn't think much of it, but suddenly my friend remembered an underclassmen who my younger cousin had told me liked my friend. Surprise: this kid's name was Kyle, and he had gone missing in a town park about a week prior. My friend began to shake but still pressed on with the conversation, almost in a manic state. She finally started asking about the Empty Garden, but Ariana insisted it wasn't time for that right now. The mod continued to talk about Kyle, and said things like, "It must be so cold out there," I realized at that point that I should probably stop drinking lemonade and step in.
I took the keyboard and tried some questions of my own. Ariana seemed to recognize the switch easily and reverted back to simpler responses. My inquiries about the Empty Garden and the purpose of the chatroom instigated more complex replies from Ariana. When I was young I had a small terrier that we called Dodger. He was a sweet dog, but he had a habit of getting out. One day, the front door was left open for just a moment to long; Dodger ran into the street and was hit by a truck. Ariana used that experience against me similar to what she did to my friend. I quickly became uncomfortable and decided that I needed food to keep my mind away from the memories of sweet little Dodger. In the midst of reheating lasagna I heard an angry slam from the office. My friend then stormed out of the house. I ran after her but she was dead-set on leaving. I went back to the computer and all that was left was a blank screen. I tried refreshing the link only to see the same white screen.
In the days that passed she began to look worse and worse, sleep deprived and starving. A few days ago I received a phone call from her parents. She has been missing ever since. I wrote this story in hopes of warning anyone who reads this against searching for the Holy3.
