I Found a Flash Drive Hidden Inside a Sausage — What I Discovered on It Still Haunts Me

The strangest moment of my life didn’t happen during a thunderstorm, in a haunted house, or anywhere you’d expect something unsettling to occur.
It happened in my kitchen.
On a Tuesday.
While I was unpacking groceries.

I had bought a pack of smoked sausages from a small, out-of-the-way butcher shop I’d never visited before. The shop had no website, no posted hours—just a faded “OPEN” sign and a bell that jingled weakly when you walked in.

When I cut into the first sausage to prep dinner, something clinked against my knife.

Not bone.
Not metal from the blade.
Something else.

Inside the sausage casing was a flash drive.

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The Discovery Nobody Would Believe

At first, I thought it was some kind of bizarre mistake. Maybe the butcher dropped it. Maybe it was a prank. But the more I looked at it, the stranger it became.

It wasn’t any ordinary flash drive.
It was black, unmarked, and sealed with a tiny strip of red tape.
A handwritten number—47—was scribbled on the tape in shaky ink.

My curiosity won. Against every instinct screaming at me to throw it away, I plugged it into my laptop.

The drive contained one folder.

And inside the folder was one file.

A video.

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The Video I Wish I’d Never Opened

I hovered over the file for a long time before double-clicking it. When the screen flickered to life, I felt my stomach knot.

The video was surveillance-style footage.
A dim, concrete room.
A metal table.
Shelves lined with tools.
And a man pacing at the edge of the frame.

His face never appeared clearly.
He always stayed just out of view.

But the audio was clear.

He was talking to someone.
Whispering, actually—like he didn’t want anyone to hear except the person behind the camera.

“This is number 47. The final one. If you’re watching this, you know what to do.”

Then he leaned toward the camera, and for a split second, I saw part of his jawline—tattooed with a symbol I didn’t recognize.

He continued:
“The others are hidden. All accounted for. Don’t let them find you. You’ve seen what happens when they do.”

A faint banging echoed in the background.
Then a scream.
Then the camera cut off.

The video was only 52 seconds long—but by the time it ended, my hands were shaking.

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The Folder That Should Have Been Empty

My heart stopped when the file vanished from the folder.
I hadn’t deleted it.
The drive hadn’t disconnected.

The file simply evaporated—like it had been programmed to self-erase.

The folder was empty.

But the flash drive wasn’t.

When I checked the drive’s properties, it showed 4.2 GB used.

Something else was there.
Something hidden deeper than normal users are meant to see.

I didn’t know how to access it.
And part of me didn’t want to.

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The Butcher Shop That Doesn’t Exist Anymore

Shaken, I decided to go back to the butcher shop the next morning. I needed answers, reassurance—anything.

But when I arrived, the building was boarded up.

The sign was gone.
The windows blacked out.
No trace of life anywhere.

I asked a nearby store owner how long the butcher had been closed.

He frowned.
“There hasn’t been a butcher there in years,” he said. “Hasn’t been anyone renting that building since the fire.”

“What fire?” I asked.

He paused.
“The one that took out the last tenant. Some guy who ran a meat business in the basement. Cops were here for days. They said he had… disturbing stuff down there.”

I felt the air go cold around me.

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The Unsettling Final Message

That night, I powered on my laptop again.

The flash drive wasn’t plugged in.

But on my desktop…
A new text file appeared.

“48?”

Just that.
One number.
A question mark.

I don’t know how it got there.
I don’t know who—or what—is on the other end of that flash drive.
I don’t know if there are really 47 others.

But I do know one thing:

Someone—or something—now believes I’m the next person in the sequence.

And I have no idea what that means.

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Final Thoughts

I still have the flash drive.
I still have questions.
And I still don’t sleep well at night.

If you ever find something hidden inside your food—
don’t plug it in.
Don’t open it.
Don’t investigate.

Some things are hidden for a reason.