Please Don't Text Momo by ClancyPasta[]
Art by Krieitor.
(Momo © Keisuke Aiso)
July isn't the easiest month of the year for me. I suppose for most people it brings to the surface memories of summer break and hot sunny days by the poolside, soaking up the Sun without a care in the world. And that was the case with me too all throughout my childhood and early adult life. Until July 5th, two years ago. The day my little brother disappeared before my very eyes. We were having a family campout at my great uncle's backyard to celebrate the fourth of July. He lives in a modest little home on a decent plot of land about 20 minutes out of town. His backyard was beautiful, filled with large pine trees and a stone fire pit in the center.
It always seemed so vast to me as a child, with a forest off in the distance near the end of the large plot. After lighting off some fireworks and toasting some marshmallows my parents, brother and I decided to stay the night so we set up a couple of tents my father bought down at Kmart when they were on sale five years ago. I still stand by my opinion that it was most likely a waste of money at the time but I am glad that they were lying around for an occasion like that. My parents took one tent and my brother Samuel and I took the other. Due to the massive age difference between us (me being 22 and him being 6) I've always felt kind of like a second dad to him, even more protective than I think I would have been had we been born closer together. When I turned off the vintage gas lamp my brother thought was oh so cool I told him goodnight and he did the same, adding a love you Danny before drifting off to sleep.
When I awoke at 5:00 a.m. to see Samuel was not in the tent I was only slightly concerned. Maybe he missed my parents and wanted to sleep with them. Maybe he had to take a piss. Maybe maybe maybe. It wasn't till I peeked out of the tent and looked to my right that my concern turned to worry. My brother was standing about a 100 feet away, back facing me next to one lone large pine tree. He was wearing a little red jacket as well as his backpack and these two bright green gloves he couldn't ever be separated from. He wasn't moving, just staring off into the distance back towards the dense forest. His lack of movement was contagious and I ended up freezing at the sighr of him. What in the hell was he doing?
After watching him watch nothing for a while I decided I'd spent enough time waiting around. The moment after I said "Hey Samuel!" he looked immediately to his left towards the large pine tree and then walked right behind it out of my field of view. I stared at the tree for a few long seconds before getting up and beginning my walk towards the pine. Now please keep in mind that this tree was a good ways away from any of the others and was more or less the only artifact on an otherwise completely flat and boring area of the yard. So when I rounded the corner behind the tree to find my brother, he was nowhere to be seen. You can imagine my horror and confusion. My parents and I searched the yard for about five minutes before calling the police. They weren't able to find anything either. Two years later and there's still no leads.
Nothing. My brother just stepped behind a pine tree and disappeared without a trace, including his backpack and everything else he had on him. The only thing that piqued the investigators' interest even for a second was a clump of long black hair they found about 15 feet from the edge of the forest, though this was dismissed almost immediately after they noticed the similarity to my father's clean-cut jet-black hair. Though I don't know how his short hair could form a clump of long strands like that or get that far out into the distance from where we were that night. Anyways I went to visit my brother's grave last week. My friend Jacob came along with me despite my frequent reminders that he shouldn't feel like he has to. He's a good friend, always going above and beyond to try to be there for me. And that includes standing in the middle of a graveyard with me on a rainy day while I pay respects to Samuel.
It's painful enough visiting your little brother's grave in the most normal of circumstances (whatever the fuck that would be) but the fact that his grave stands empty and I'm no closer to him standing right in front of his tombstone that I would be sitting on my couch really disturbs me. The events of that night two years ago loop in my head constantly. Just peeking out from the tent, seeing my brother beside the pine tree. Watching him walk behind the pine and then...what? What happened next? What happens when you turn the page? I'd been standing there long enough for small talk to not seem so inappropriate anymore. Jacob and I started talking about some YouTube drama we found mutually amusing and then moved on to talking about some of the creepiest shit we found online. I'm not much of a believer in the supernatural but I do enjoy suspending my disbelief to really get into a scary story, urban legend or ghost photo every once in a while.
He started telling me about this Momo girl or creature or whatever it is. It's a girl with large glassy eyes, a long face and an inhuman mouth that curves up like a weak checkmark. She also has long greasy black hair. Jacob showed me the viral photo of her everyone was spreading around and explained more of the lore. Apparently someone was able to link Momo's photo to a phone number on WhatsApp. There's been a few copycat numbers on there as well with people trying to impersonate Momo by posting her unnerving photo to their page. But the one that far preceded these copycats and that most people regard as the original is from Japan. Upon sending a text to Momo most received no response, though some claim to have been sent weird doxing threats or disturbing photos. This creepy urban legend was fun to speculate about no doubt but the fact that almost everyone who texts the phone number doesn't get a response led me to believe that just like all the other urban legends I've stumbled across on my time browsing the web this one was just a hoax.
"You gonna send her a text tonight?" Jacob asked. "I don't know. You gonna write a letter to the tooth fairy?". Jacob rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah try to act macho all you want man but I know deep down you're a little scared. I mean it is a really creepy photo.". "I'm not scared man." I said. "I've just been on the Internet long enough to know a bullshit creepypasta when I see one. There's nothing more believable about this thing than there was about Slender Man or the Rake or something." "I gotcha man I gotcha." Jacob responded, nodding his head, looking off to the side and understanding. "I guess I just can't get out of my mind how creepy would be if the Momo number did actually respond."
Neither could I.
I don't know why but throughout the day I couldn't get the mental image of the Momo photo out of my head or the thought of possibly communicating with it. My logical side was telling me to focus on more productive things like lying on my couch eating through a family-sized bag of chips, watching the latest episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee but my illogical side (which was much more seductive by the way) was telling me to indulge in my fantasy. Send a message to Momo. Maybe she'll respond. Respond with what I didn't know. That was all part of the fun, the mystery of it all. After stirring over the prospect of reaching out to her all day I decided I'd had enough and grabbed my phone. I downloaded WhatsApp and looked up Momo's legendary number. Sure enough, seconds after adding her to my contacts I was greeted with that horrifying face. I felt a rush of adrenaline as it flashed across my screen. Even though I knew it was probably bogus I didn't change the way I felt staring into those large lifeless eyes. I started a text chat with Momo and quickly sent the message "Hello?".
I began beating myself up almost immediately after sending it, trying to think up an introduction that could have been any more boring or generic. Regardless of whether or not this thing is real whoever's running the phone number will probably be much more likely to respond to a message that's a bit more interesting. I thought for a few moments before sending my first proper message.
"Show me something I won't believe."
If you asked me then what exactly I meant by that I'd tell you the same thing I'm gonna tell you right now: I have no idea but it did sound more luring than a simple hello and so I figured that might be enough to bait some sort of response. And so I waited and waited until four hours had passed and it was 1 a.m. I put down my Xbox controller and stretched over to my nightstand to grab my phone. No new texts from Momo. Should have figured as much. I mean I pretty much already knew it had to be a hoax but I guess I let my fantasy and desire for some creepy excitement get the best of me. I'll probably delete WhatsApp in the morning and forget about this whole Momo thing. I plugged my phone into the wall, turned the lamp on my nightstand off and closed my eyes ready to drift off into the dreamscape. My eyes squinted open as I heard my phone receive a text message. I turned my head to look at the clock. It was 4 a.m.
Jesus Christ! Who the fuck would be messaging me this early in the morning? I rolled over and grabbed my phone to see who I was gonna be pissed at the next day. But upon unlocking my phone screen I was greeted by Momo's carved smile and piercing eyes on the message page. I jumped back a bit in shock. I don't care who you are or how tough you perceive yourself to be. When you're woken up in the middle of the night and the first thing you see is Momo's face staring right back at you you're gonna be startled. I hadn't received a text response from her but I did receive a photo. My pulse picked up a bit. I wasn't expecting any sort of response to begin with but...a photo? I clicked on the conversation and loaded up the image. At first I wasn't quite sure what I was looking at, expecting some highly disturbing shock photo. I was underwhelmed by the benign image I found in my text. No blood, no guts, nothing. But then the realization of what this was hit me like a freight train and all of the blood drained from my face.
The photo was taken in the woods either very early in the morning or very late at night with some sort of external light source behind the camera, most likely a lantern or strong flashlight. I could make out some trees surrounding the dead leaves and branches covering the forest floor but what really got me and what is the entire reason for me writing this now were the two bright green gloves laying on top of the debris. They were the exact kind my brother was wearing the moment he disappeared. Just like the moment I saw my brother standing next to that pine tree over two years ago I froze. My eyes darted around the screen, looking for some detail that would rule out any connection to my brother but they looked identical to his beloved pair of gloves. After a few moments I forced myself to snap out of it. I made a download of the picture and did a reverse image search on Google to try to see if whoever's running this Momo account just got some random image from the internet and my perceived connection is all a big coincidence.
But the reverse image search came up empty. Wherever this photo came from it didn't come from the internet. At least not the surface web. I panicked and without thinking sent Momo another text. "Where did you get that photo? Who the fuck are you?". I put the phone down. I couldn't stare that disturbing image any longer and I was getting dizzy. I went to the fridge and grabbed myself a cold bottle of water to try and soothe my dry throat. I leaned my back against the fridge door and took a long drink from the bottle. My head was spinning. I could barely even think about what this could possibly mean. What did Momo know about my brother? And where in the fuck did she get that picture from? Another text alarm from my phone brought me back to reality. I rushed back into my room and unlocked the phone. Another image. I braced myself and viewed the photo. This one was also taken in a forest. The camera was positioned in the middle of a trail path leading out of the dense forest and opening up onto a large lake with a pier and a small wooden boat.
The Sun was just beginning to come up but there was still enough light to make out the scene. The majority of the light this time was coming from reflections on the lake so the dense trees were dark and shadowy in contrast. There were two things I noticed in the photo. The first was the forest trail itself. It's called the Tillotson trail. It is actually located within the same forest that connects with my great uncle's backyard, though maybe a few miles or so in the distance. It opens up to Lake sage and I know exactly where it's at. The other thing I noticed was the short three and a half foot tall figure leaning up against a tree at the entrance of the trail. It was too dark to make out many details but I could see that a faint outline of something it was wearing like a backpack. That couldn't be my brother...could it? What would he be doing standing out in the forest at that time of night?
I looked out of my window to see the Sun was barely starting to come up as well and then I looked back at the photo. Could the image have been taken just moments before I received it? The lighting would definitely be the same if that were the case. The trail was only about 30 minutes away from my apartment. I decided it wouldn't be wise to pass up this opportunity. I grabbed my phone, jumped in my car and started speeding down the lonely country road towards the forest. Rain was starting to come down in a light drizzle as I pulled off of Elmore Road into the parking lot at the Tillotson trail. The location where most of the photos were taken was on the other side of the path but with a forest being so large and how much time it would take for me to drive around it to get to the other side I figured it would be faster to just cut through the trail itself. I hadn't been to the trail in quite a while and was surprised by how rundown it seemed. I had to constantly step over weeds and saplings throughout the trail, As I turned the last corner of the trail I was given a straight shot view down the end of the path opening up to Lake Sage, the exact perspective from the photograph Momo sent me.
The childlike figure was still leaned up against a tree at the edge of the forest. My heart rate went into overdrive. I felt my whole body tense up and I began to sweat profusely. I began sprinting towards the edge of the path towards the little brother I watched disappear before my very eyes two years ago. I couldn't comprehend how he could be here now but I also couldn't comprehend how he could have disappeared in the first place. I suppose if he was able to snap out of existence two years ago behind that pine tree then he should be able to snap back into existence beside another. Given the circumstances and how the laws of nature seemed to no longer apply that makes sense, right? As I came within 15 feet of the figure I can make out not only the backpack over his shoulder but the little red jacket he was wearing on the night of his disappearance. If it was ragged and dirty I wouldn't have been surprised in the slightest but the jacket was vibrant and pristine like it was brand-new and didn't just spring back into existence after a two-year vacation from reality. The hood was pulled up over his head and from what I could tell his hands were placed in his jacket pockets.
I was now just a few feet behind him and had slowed it to a walking pace. I observed him from behind, not prepared to come face to face with the child I've thought about every night as I drifted asleep for the past two years. The child I was supposed to protect and watch over that night but instead let fall through the fingers of time and space. "Samuel." I muttered softly. I lifted my trembling hand and slowly placed it on his shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. As I did my hand was greeted with little resistance and a crinkling squish like I was squeezing a teddy bear filled with newspaper. My eyes started up and I quickly walked around to his front. Under my brother's hood was a large head sized bundle of pine tree branches stuck together with either clear glue or some sort of thick tree sap. I could see now the sleeves that led into the red jackets pockets were completely empty, flapping lightly in the wind. Using my foot to lift up one of the pant legs I realized this counterfeit body was being supported not by two legs but two large tree branches buried in the ground and leading up through the pants into the jackets abdomen.
This was not my brother or maybe it was and this is what's left of him. Perhaps I'll try to come back but the only thing that made it out of wherever he was being kept was his jacket backpack and pants. I looked over this pseudo Samuel for a moment. I turned away, gazing out towards the lake. The rain was beginning to pick up a bit but luckily the dense foliage above made it a bit lighter. I stared at the reflection of the pier in the water as a tear began its journey down my cheek. I was so close to being with my brother again. So close to starting the long process of making up for lost time, in comforting him through what has no doubt been a horrific two years. I was so close to making things right but things aren't right. In fact I'm not sure if things have ever been so Goddamn wrong. I turned back towards what should have been my brother.
I looked at its head filled with pine branches, its arms blowing in the wind, its legs nothing more than wood. And then I looked at its body. I walked over to the figure and unzipped my brother's jacket for the last time. I was unsurprised to find it filled with newspapers but I was surprised at the quantity. Instead of whole newspapers being crumpled up and shoved into the body it seemed as though it was filled with individual pages. I took one of the pages out and unwrinkled it. It was from the newspaper issued the day after my brother's disappearance, displaying his image and asking people if they've seen this boy. I took out another paper. Same page. Before I knew it I found myself viciously digging through my brother's jacket, desperately trying to find a different article but they were all the same. Whoever stuffed this jacket full would have needed to have hundreds of July 6 issues of my local newspaper from 2 years ago. But that's not all. Upon ripping out the last newspaper at the bottom of the jacket I discovered two bloated green gloves, obviously stuffed with something and tied together with a red piece of yarn.
They were undoubtedly my brother's gloves. The same gloves in the first photo I received from Momo. I took them out of the cavity and untied the cheap piece of yarn. Within those gloves were two pieces of paper, listing my full name, address, both current and former social security numbers, IP address, where I work, where I typically go on an average week and my daily schedule as well as a list of close family and friends with the same information on them that was listed for me. On the back of the second page was also a list of various highly personal accounts and passwords I've never shared with another soul in the world and don't even have written down for fear of my information getting stolen, though that doesn't seem to have mattered one bit to Momo. At the bottom of that page was the first written message I'd ever received from Momo at this point. It was scrawled quickly in black ink with an over exaggerated question mark at the end.
"Can you believe it?"
And to be perfectly honest I can't. I called the police and turned over all the evidence I had. It was obvious the police officers I talked to were disturbed by the events that had taken place that morning. But it's been a few days since then and I don't think they have any sort of leads yet and I have a feeling they won't. I haven't sent another text to Momo since then and I don't think I will. I can't stop thinking about what happened that night. I'm trying to form some type of coherent explanation in my mind but I don't think I'm going to get one, at least not now. I don't know what Momo is but now I think about her alongside my brother constantly. I can't even look at a photo of my brother's innocent smile without seeing her demented face in my mind's eye. Is Momo a real person or is she something else? I considered that perhaps the phone number is run by some underground trafficking ring but realized that no person would possibly go through such an elaborate setup like what took place that morning just to fuck with me.
And it all happened so quickly after my first text. It was like Momo was waiting for me did she take those photos or did she just have access to them? What really happened to my brother two years ago and where is he now? Is he still alive or is he gone? I'm afraid I'll never know. I don't want to give up but I don't see much of an alternative at this point besides sending another text to Momo and I don't think I can bring myself to open up WhatsApp anytime soon. Upon leaving the trail that night, just moments before I called the cops, I took a look back towards the lake before I rounded the corner. I got out my phone and looked at the last photo Momo sent me, most likely taken at the exact spot I was standing in at that very moment. Everything was more or less the same: the figure leaning up against the tree, the trail opening up to the lake at the end of the forest, etc. but I did notice one difference.
The spot next to the pier that was previously home to a small wooden boat was now vacant and I could see something behind the dense rain floating off in the distance, carrying what looked like two human figures: one short and child sized and one standing tall and inhumanly skinny.