
<h1 class="wp-block-heading">Personal Journal Entry – September 18, 2022</h1>



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">
<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify"><em>&#8220;I didn’t believe in cursed objects until I found the Ben Drowned haunted cartridge in a shoebox at my late cousin&#8217;s house. I wish I had just left it there.&#8221;</em></p>
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<div class="wp-block-image">
<figure class="aligncenter size-full is-resized"><img src="https://creepyvault.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/Clues-in-a-Burnt-Journal.jpg" alt="Journal referencing Moon Children cult - Ben Drowned haunted cartridge" class="wp-image-511" style="aspect-ratio:16/9;object-fit:contain;width:508px"/></figure></div>


<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">It’s strange how the past sometimes creeps back into your life through the most innocuous things—a dusty shoebox, a forgotten cartridge, an old Nintendo console. My name is Samuel Carr, and this is the story of how a decades-old game nearly cost me my mind—and possibly, my soul.</p>



<h3 class="wp-block-heading">The Cartridge That Shouldn&#8217;t Exist</h3>



<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">The cartridge was unmarked, save for one word scratched violently across its back: <em>BEN</em>. It wasn’t just the word that unsettled me, it was the <em>feeling</em>—like a static pulse in the air when I picked it up. My cousin Peter had never mentioned owning anything like this.</p>


<div class="wp-block-image">
<figure class="aligncenter size-full is-resized"><img src="https://creepyvault.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/The-Save-File-That-Shouldnt-Exist.jpg" alt="BEN save file distorted menu screen - Ben Drowned haunted cartridge" class="wp-image-512" style="aspect-ratio:16/9;object-fit:contain;width:508px"/></figure></div>


<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">It was a Majora’s Mask cartridge, alright. But when I powered it on, the title screen was distorted. The moon had bloodshot eyes. The music—a low, reversed hum—stretched out like an agonizing breath. And then there was the save file: <strong>BEN</strong>.</p>



<h3 class="wp-block-heading">Glitches That Felt Intentional</h3>



<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">At first, I thought it was just data corruption. The game’s models were twitchy, NPCs referred to me by name—even though I hadn’t input one—and textures bled together like a melting painting.</p>



<p>I created a new save file. Named it SAM. But the game kept calling me BEN.</p>



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">
<p><em>&#8220;You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?&#8221;</em> — Happy Mask Salesman, over and over.</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">The statue. That damn Elegy of Emptiness statue began appearing where it shouldn’t. I turned off the game. The statue appeared again when I reloaded, but this time it <em>followed</em> me.</p>



<h3 class="wp-block-heading">ð§ Digital Possession or Psychological Breakdown?</h3>



<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">By the third day, I was hallucinating the background music even when the console was off. My dreams were infected. I’d wake up to static on the television. My emails began receiving strange messages with subject lines like <strong>&#8220;Let Me Out&#8221;</strong> and <strong>&#8220;You Shouldn&#8217;t Have Done That&#8221;</strong>.</p>



<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">I ran antivirus scans—nothing. I reformatted my computer. The messages persisted. Files with no origin timestamp began appearing: one was titled <strong>BenLives.txt</strong>. Inside it:</p>



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">
<p><em>&#8220;I remember drowning. I remember screaming. I remember you.&#8221;</em></p>
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<h3 class="wp-block-heading">Recovered Files: A Clue to His Identity?</h3>



<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">Digging deeper into Peter’s attic, I found what looked like pages from a journal. Whether they were Peter’s or someone else’s, I can’t say. They were stained and partially burnt. One entry stood out:</p>



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<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify"><em>&#8220;The Moon Children said I could live forever. They said I’d be free. But the cartridge is a cage, not a gateway. I want out. Please. If you find this, destroy it.&#8221;</em></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">Moon Children? I searched online. Some obscure forum posts from 2009 and 2010 described a digital cult who believed consciousness could be uploaded into data through ritual sacrifice. They called their leader <strong>Drowned Prophet</strong>.</p>



<h3 class="wp-block-heading">The Unspoken Theory: BEN Wasn&#8217;t the First</h3>



<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">Here&#8217;s the part no one online seems to acknowledge: <em>Ben Drowned may not have been the first trapped soul</em>. Among Peter’s belongings, I found an SD card marked <strong>ELEGY</strong>. On it were corrupted game files from <em>Ocarina of Time</em>, <em>Super Mario 64</em>, even <em>GoldenEye</em>.</p>


<div class="wp-block-image">
<figure class="aligncenter size-full is-resized"><img src="https://creepyvault.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/Manifestation-in-the-Real-World.jpg" alt="Ghostly figure from TV screen - Ben Drowned haunted cartridge" class="wp-image-513" style="aspect-ratio:16/9;object-fit:contain;width:508px"/></figure></div>


<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">All of them exhibited similar symptoms—haunted files, AI behaving with self-awareness, corrupted audio that when slowed down whispered phrases like:</p>



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">
<p><em>&#8220;We all drown eventually.&#8221;</em></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">What if the cartridge wasn&#8217;t cursed—what if it was a <em>receptacle</em>? What if Ben was just the first to scream loud enough for the internet to hear?</p>



<h3 class="wp-block-heading">Interview with the Glitch Hunter</h3>


<div class="wp-block-image">
<figure class="aligncenter size-full is-resized"><img src="https://creepyvault.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/Where-It-All-Began.jpg" alt="Attic scene with haunted cartridge - Ben Drowned haunted cartridge" class="wp-image-514" style="aspect-ratio:16/9;object-fit:contain;width:508px"/></figure></div>


<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">I reached out to an anonymous glitch hunter who went by the username <strong>NullFrame</strong>. He agreed to speak off the record.</p>



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">
<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify"><em>&#8220;You think BEN’s story is a creepypasta? It’s not fiction. I’ve found traces of him buried in ROMs across the internet. He&#8217;s like malware that adapts and evolves. Every time you talk about him, he spreads.&#8221;</em></p>
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<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">
<p><em>&#8220;He’s not a ghost in the machine—he is the machine.&#8221;</em></p>
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<h3 class="wp-block-heading">When Curiosity Becomes Contagion</h3>



<p>The story started infecting my life. I got a call from Peter’s old number—a line that had been disconnected. All I heard was:</p>



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">
<p><em>&#8220;You set him free.&#8221;</em></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify">After that, I smashed the cartridge, burned the shoebox, and purged every digital backup. But something tells me it wasn’t enough. The night after I destroyed the cartridge, my smart TV turned on by itself. The screen read: <strong>&#8220;Let’s play again.&#8221;</strong></p>



<h3 class="wp-block-heading">Final Entry — October 1, 2022</h3>



<p class="has-text-align-justify has-text-align-justify"><em>&#8220;If you’re reading this and you have the cartridge, get rid of it. Don’t investigate. Don’t share. This story is a warning. Every time someone searches for the Ben Drowned haunted cartridge, he grows stronger. Close the tab. Don’t let him in.&#8221;</em></p>

