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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/S_G_Woodhouse on 2024-04-08 14:42:14.
They always say you shouldn’t watch your parents’ old VHS tapes. I should have known that this rule also applied to grandparents’ tapes.
It’s all still a blur in my head, and I think I could use some help from the Internet to sort it all out.
It all started when I moved in temporarily with my grandfather, who lives alone.
My plan to set up my own YouTube channel on UFOs and the paranormal had failed to take off, despite years of publishing online.
I found myself unable to pay my rent and facing eviction. I felt so humiliated by the situation that I didn’t dare ask my parents for help, preferring instead to call my grandfather instead.
Since Grandma had left us, he had continued to live alone in his house lost in the forest a few dozen miles from the city.
I figured he wouldn’t mind if I came to live with him for a while, just long enough to get back on my feet.
When I asked him on the phone, he only hesitated for a second before agreeing.
When I pulled up in front of the house in my car, he was already waiting for me on the doorstep with a big smile on his face.
“Thanks so much for taking me in, Grandpa,” I said, giving him a hug.
“Don’t worry, we all go through hard times, that’s what family’s for. Come on inside, it’s cold outside, we’ll bring your stuff in a bit later.”
Describing my grandfather would be like describing the kindest of forest rangers. He spent a lot of his time outside, hunting and gathering all sorts of things, especially mushrooms. He even had a gigantic poster hanging in the living room with almost every type of mushroom there was, and just below it, several rifles hanging on the wall.
Just below that poster was an actual cupboard full of dried mushrooms.
“Don’t worry, there’s no risk of you eating something that’ll make you vomit or worse. I only keep these for your father when he comes and bother me. Some could even make you see elephants for hours” he laughed.
I moved into the guest room, and for the next few days, everything went smoothly.
One day, in the late afternoon, the Internet connection went down.
This happened a lot, but it usually came back after 30 minutes at the most. But after waiting 1 hour, the Internet still hadn’t come back.
I ended up getting up from the sofa and wandering around the house. My grandpa had left for the afternoon, so I was on my own.
When I got upstairs, I saw a trapdoor on the ceiling that I’d never noticed before. I remembered that during one of our discussions, he had told me that he still had lots of VHS tapes, including one of my favorite childhood movies. A dinosaur movie I remembered perfectly, but had forgotten the title.
When I asked him if we could watch it sometime, for old times’ sake, he said the tape must be in the attic and he’d go and get it. But I guess he forgot.
I stared at the trapdoor. I’d been living here for a while, and it felt a bit like home. I didn’t feel like I was overstepping my rights. Or, if I was, he wouldn’t mind too much.
After all, there was only one room downstairs he’d strongly forbidden me to enter, since that was where he butchered animals and didn’t want me to set foot in it.
I climbed up the ladder to the attic.
Immediately, dust fell on me and made me sneeze. I climbed the rickety wooden stairs.
The place was plunged into darkness, and not knowing where the light was, I used the flashlight on my phone.
I looked around for a collection of VHS tapes. And I was surprised to see a sickle in perfect condition, with an old TV set in front of it, itself resting on a piece of furniture.
Maybe it was his way of enjoying the viewing of his favorite horror movies
I opened the cabinet and shone the light inside.
No children’s cartoon tapes, but dozens of tapes with dates on them like “02-05-1998” and nothing else. My eyes widened, what if these were old tapes of my father when he was still a teenager?
I just wanted to have a look. Just a few seconds, nothing else, then watch them with grandpa.
I smiled as I inserted a random VHS tape into the VCR.
At first there was nothing, everything was black.
Then a hand pulled back from the lens, and I discovered a scene that would remain engraved in my memory for the rest of my life.
A woman. Probably in her twenties, blonde, and tied to an iron chair.
The room looked like a slaughterhouse. Animal skins and carcasses hung on the wall. Knives and other implements whose function I didn’t want to know hung on the wall too.
“Please, please don’t do that please!” the woman kept shouting, crying.
And my worst nightmare came true.
A younger version of my grandfather walked into the camera, axe in hand. Without any hesitation, he cut her head off with one clean stroke. I couldn’t hold back the scream that came from my mouth next.
At the same moment, the worst thing that could happen, happened.
I heard the front door open and close.
My grandfather was back.
For a second, I imagined him coming up the stairs in the half-light, that same axe in his hand.
I stood up on my shaky legs.
I didn’t have time to tidy up and get out of there, he was going to see that I’d seen what I shouldn’t see.
I walked as slowly and quickly as I could towards the stairs, even though he must have heard me shouting, he still didn’t know exactly where I was in the house.
I went down the stairs.
I can’t believe it, my grandfather is a murderer, a psycho
I tried to think of my options, but it was already too late, he’d just arrived upstairs.
No words were necessary.
He simply looked at the open attic hatch, and the look in my eyes, to understand that I had seen what I should never have seen.
I rushed into the first room on my right, the bathroom.
Damn, there’s no window to get out!
I could already imagine him taking out his axe and breaking down the door like in the movie The Shining. Except I had nothing to defend myself with, and the movie was probably going to end prematurely this time.
“Please I won’t say anything grandpa, just let me go,” I begged him.
“Sweetie, it’s not what you think, open the door please,” he replied.
I was crying, seeing my life flash before my eyes as I watched the door handle move back and forth, hyperventilating. My head became light. He was still talking through the door, but I could no longer understand what he was saying.
It was too much. Even as I knew I was telling myself I was living my last moments, I fainted.
The light was dazzling.
I got to my feet, still confused, and realized I was lying on the couch and right under the ceiling bulb.
“Are you feeling better?”
I turned my head, and saw my grandfather sitting not far from me, scrutinizing me with his eyes.
I was still dazzled by the light that had flooded my eyes a few moments ago, and I still felt an intense sense of confusion from the shock. My stomach was also churning and I had a bitter taste in my mouth.
“I know it’s hard, but you’ll have to get up and follow me.”
I obeyed, seeing no other option in my condition.
He helped me get up and walk, holding me under the armpit. I couldn’t help shivering at his touch.
We walked, and the whole time he seemed to be scrutinizing me out of the corner of his eye every five seconds.
He opened a door and we went down a few steps.
When I looked around, I realized despite the confusion where we were : the same room in which he had killed that poor woman, and probably dozens of others before. And probably me in a few moments.
“Grandpa please, you don’t have to do this.”
“Sit down,” he simply replied.
I sat down on a wooden chair I hadn’t noticed.
On the iron chair where I’d seen him kill that girl, sat the TV from the attic with a VCR underneath.
He put his hand on the TV.
“Listen to me carefully. You should never have seen what was on that tape, but not for the reasons you think.”
He glared at me, and I felt like I was still floating.
“I don’t want to make you see this shocking scene again, but please, listen to what happens right afterwards,” and as he said this he played the tape shortly after the murder.
He crouched down right next to me.
“You can hear it, right?” he asked.
At first I couldn’t see what he was talking about, but then I heard it. The woman, despite the fact that her head had separated from her body, was still screaming. But it wasn’t really the woman’s voice anymore. It sounded like it was filled with rage and malice.
“I will take your soul! You and all the others!”
My grandfather was standing right next to my face, staring at me.
“I… I hear it, what is it?”
“We’re not sure. And you shouldn’t know too much either sweetie.”
“Wait, how do I know this isn’t just a trick?”
He stood up slowly, looking hesitant. I vaguely tried to keep my balance on my chair in the meanwhile.
“Once the head is separated from the body, I keep it in order to send them… somewhere secret, to study them.”
He stood right in front of me and stared, “They’re all still alive in jars, right behind that wardrobe door. Can’t you hear them?”
He seemed to hesitate but finally stood next to the door, still staring at me.
“They’re screaming, look at their faces,” and with that he opened the door.
Inside were dozens of jars containing women’s heads in clear liquid.
In shock, I saw them one by one start to scream, their eyes black.
Demons.
We finally went back upstairs and I spent the rest of the day in bed, still in shock. I even threw up several times during the night. I had so many questions, bu…
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