I was used to visiting empty properties as part of my job as a real estate broker. And that time was no different. Earlier that day, Mr. Joshua had walked into our office with his suspenders and bowler hat, a very friendly gentleman who even gave me a candy when he greeted me:
“Here you go, young man,” he said, placing the candy in my hand. “To sweeten your day.”
I thanked Mr. Joshua with a smile and accepted the candy before listening to his description of the estate he was interested in selling.
“It’s a large property,” he said, handing over a copy of the land deed. “Here are the rest of the details. I need to sell it as soon as possible.”
“Do you have a deadline?” I asked.
“I’m traveling tomorrow, I have a flight to Europe, planning to spend my remaining years visiting the Slavic countries,” he chuckled, now with a slight accent noticeable in his voice.
“Were you born there?” I asked, curious.
“Yes, I’m originally from Romania,” Mr. Joshua replied with a nostalgic gleam in his eyes. “But I haven’t seen my homeland in decades. Anyway, I’m looking forward to it.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Joshua, we’ll do our best and keep you informed about any buyers,” I said, shaking his hand.
I wasted no time, and before noon, I was already driving to the remote rural property. The hot air blew through the open windows of my car as I drove along the rural road.
When I finally arrived, I immediately noticed it was a charming estate, albeit a bit neglected. I parked the car and took out the copy of the deed Mr. Joshua had given me, double-checking the address before beginning the evaluation.
I walked around the main house, examining every detail. Starting from the exterior, where I noticed the need for repairs on the paint and roof, as well as dense vegetation growing up to the driveway. Given that, I entered the house, finding a scene of abandonment. Furniture covered with dusty sheets, cobwebs adorning the corners of the ceiling, and the smell of mildew permeating the air.
“Wow, how long has he stopped living here?” I said, just before being hit by a sneeze, rubbing my nose.
I decided to start my inspection on the ground floor, opening doors and windows to let in some fresh air. As I rummaged through the living room for signs of deterioration, my eyes fixated on an old but sturdy sound system in the corner. It was one of those vintage devices that seemed straight out of the 80s. Beside it, a stack of music tapes, all labeled with names of famous bands.
Curious, I decided to examine the tapes more closely. Among them were various collections of classic rock albums: Black Sabbath, Guns N’ Roses, AC/DC, and many others. It was like a time capsule of music from that era.
“Who would have thought old Josh is into metal?” I grabbed my phone to take a picture, sending it to the elderly man with the message “Good afternoon, sir. I found these tapes in the living room, did you forget them? Can I bring them to you when I return?”
He promptly replied,
“Oh, what a pleasant surprise, young man!” Mr. Joshua replied. “Yes, those tapes are my relics. I’m glad you found them. Feel free to take them, I no longer use them, not just them, if there’s anything else you like around there that can still be of use, consider it a gift from me. By the way, how’s the visit going?”
“The visit is going well so far. I’m just starting the inspection, but I’ve already been able to assess some of the structure. I’ll keep exploring and keep you updated on any developments.”
“Great, my young man! I’m glad to hear everything is under control. Good luck with the rest of the inspection and keep me posted. By the way, enjoy the tapes!”
The exchange of messages with Mr. Joshua put me at ease. I knew I could count on him for any eventuality. After inspecting the kitchen, which thankfully didn’t have any old stuff there, I decided to head upstairs to finish the inspection and avoid hitting the road at night.
I climbed the stairs, the creaking of the old wood echoing through the silence. Upon reaching the top, I was greeted by a narrow hallway, with closed doors lining both sides. I decided to start with the first door on the left.
Upon entering, I was greeted by a strange sight. It was as if time had frozen there. The bed was meticulously made, as if someone had just left, and an old dresser displayed a set of perfumes and jewelry. The sunlight filtered through the faded curtains, creating a surreal atmosphere.
I walked through the room, checking every detail. That’s when I noticed an old wallpaper, one of its edges loose and fallen. I decided to speed things up a bit and pulled it, but in doing so, I ended up revealing a small closet behind that wall.
The smell of mildew became stronger as I entered the cramped space. The shelves were filled with dusty boxes and old clothes. But it was what I found at the back of the closet that left me breathless.
There, hidden among piles of old sheets, was a wooden chest. Its exterior was worn by time, but still exuded an air of luxury. With trembling hands, I opened the box and looked inside.
My eyes widened when I saw what was inside: a collection of dolls. They were facing me, their glass eyes staring at me uncomfortably. I couldn’t help but take a step back.
“What the…” my heart was racing. “This is quite bizarre.”
I grabbed my phone to take a picture. Not to send to Joshua, but it was a great work story. It was when, upon opening the box for the second time, I noticed that one of the dolls was a classic “china doll” model, with a lace dress and perfectly groomed blonde hair. I remembered that my niece had seen one of these in a video of old toys and couldn’t stop asking for one for my sister. I decided to take the doll; at least it would do more good as a toy than aging there.
With the doll carefully wrapped, I left the closet and continued my inspection of the other rooms on the second floor. The further I progressed down the hallway, the stronger the feeling of being watched seemed to grow. The rooms were mostly empty, or had things that I assumed were for their children; a nursery, one with children’s toys, etc. However, when I reached the last door, an irrational fear crept over me.
I turned the doorknob, a little nervous, but when I pushed it, it wouldn’t budge. I pushed harder, but the door remained locked. Suddenly, a thud. Something hit the door from the inside. I fell to the floor, terrified.
My heart raced as I struggled to get up, legs trembling. Another thud, this time followed by a bizarrely loud scream. I recoiled further, now terrified. The screams echoing through the house.
My feet were nearly tripping, and my mind wasn’t thinking straight as I tried to get out of that place and flee whatever it was as fast as possible. I finished the flight of stairs by jumping the last three steps, just as I heard a sound of wood cracking and falling to the ground. Whatever it was, it had knocked down the door.
My breath was fast and irregular as I ran out of the house, feeling the hot afternoon air against my face. Fear drove me, making me run faster than ever. I didn’t even dare to look back.
I reached my car panting and trembling, my shaky hands barely able to find the keys in my pocket. Finally, I managed to open the door and throw myself inside the vehicle, locking it immediately, still hearing those screams, now coming from the dark interior of the house.
My heart was still pounding hard as I tried to control my breathing. I sped away as fast as I could, and halfway there, I was back on an asphalt road again. I glanced in the rearview mirror, half expecting, half fearing to see some sinister figure chasing me. Thankfully, I saw nothing but trees on the roadside swaying in the wind.
The rest of the journey back to town was a blur of adrenaline and fear. I could barely process what had happened in that isolated house. I arrived at the office and pretended, just being monosyllabic and giving our approval for the sale of the property.
It was Friday, and finally, the clock’s hands signaled the time: 5:00 p.m. I packed up my things, declining the invitation for a happy hour. I just wanted to rest. I got in the car and went home, drinking a beer and dozing off on the couch, the TV lights flashing in my dreams.
The next day, I woke up feeling exhausted and with a knot in my stomach. The sun was shining through the curtains, strong, giving me a headache just from looking at it. I decided not to tell anyone about what happened at that isolated estate. After all, who would believe a story like that?
As I had my breakfast, my phone rang. It was my sister.
“Good morning, Bob, are you coming to lunch with us today? Juan made that divine spaghetti.”
I really loved that spaghetti, but what caught my attention in the message was remembering the doll. It was there, inside my bag. I had put it there at the beginning of yesterday’s confusion and ended up forgetting about it. I took it out, the sun illuminating its happy blue eyes.
“Sure, I’ll be there soon.”
Half an hour later, I was parking in their garage. Upon entering, I was greeted by the delicious aroma of spaghetti and the warm embrace of the gathered family. My niece was playing in the living room, her eyes shining with excitement when she saw me.
“Uncle Bob! I missed you!”
“I have something for you, little rascal!” I said jokingly to her.
“What is it? What is it?”
“Just a special present I found during work,” I said, smiling at her. “Here you go.”
I took the doll out of the bag and handed it to Becca, who took it eagerly. Her eyes lit up as she saw the porcelain doll with its delicate dresses and blonde hair.
“Wow, she’s beautiful! This is exactly the one I wanted! Thank you, Uncle Bob!” she said, hugging the doll affectionately.
“Did you buy one of these?” Jenna said, entering the room.
“Oh no, I found it at work, an elderly man donated old stuff from the house.”
“Wow, lucky you, she wouldn’t stop bothering us for one of these.”
I sat down at the table to enjoy lunch; however, something inside me was restless. The memory of the eerie room still echoed in my mind, like a shadow looming over me.
“No, seriously,” I commented during one of the conversations, “You won’t believe what happened-“
Becca walked into the room, the doll in her hands, the dress lowered, revealing a zipper open on its back, with an empty compartment where the tape was now in my niece’s hand.
“What is this, mommy?”
Jenna picked it up.
“It’s a tape, people used to keep movies in there before we had the internet.”
“So can we watch the cartoon that’s on it?”
We glanced at each other.
“You know, sweetheart,” Juan cleared his throat, “Uncle Bob and I will check to see if… if it’s a good cartoon, and then we’ll watch it together, okay? Play with mommy and your doll in the meantime.”
He took the tape from Jenna, and we went upstairs. Juan was a guy who enjoyed antiques, and I knew they had a videotape. What irony…
“This is strange, Bob, you know, there are so many possibilities. It could be your client’s daughter’s favorite cartoon, which she hid inside the doll, or it could be, I don’t know, some Thai amateur porn he kept there.”
The comment elicited a nervous smile from me.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” I said, putting the tape in the old VCR we found in the room.
The machine hummed as the tape began to roll. The TV screen flickered, and for a moment, all we saw was static. My heart pounded as we waited to see what was on that tape.
Finally, the image cleared, and a dark scene appeared. It was hard to see much, just some shadows moving quickly. I leaned forward, trying to discern what was happening.
Then, the shadows became clearer, revealing Mr. Joshua, several years younger. In the background was that room with the bathtub I had seen. He adjusted the camera and then went off to some corner out of view. His voice could be heard saying, “Hey darling, come on, it’s time for your bath.”
“Huh, is it a family video?” Juan asked, leaning towards the screen with curiosity.
Joshua reappeared, with a woman in his arms, her shiny hair reminded me of the doll’s… and eerily, Becca’s too. Her eyes were filled with terror as she looked directly into the camera. She was tied up and gagged, unable to make any sound other than muffled moans. The man then threw her, a loud splash as her body hit the water. She fell with her face down, thrashing as she tried to turn over to breathe. Joshua watched silently from the side.
As she almost stopped moving, he then pulled her hair back, allowing air to enter her nose. She was crying now, and as she took a breath, she began to scream.
“No no no,” Joshua said as he let her go again. He got up and disappeared from the frame for a while, leaving her there. Suddenly, a loud background noise. It was “Black Sabbath”… a shiver ran down my spine as he reappeared, once again pulling the almost lifeless girl out of the water, shouting for her voice to become audible.
“Now we can continue,” he said.
After that, he took a sharp object, a knife or scissors, it wasn’t clear, and started cutting the woman’s clothes as she sobbed and begged for mercy. He peeled off two copper wires with the object and then flipped a switch on the machine connected to them, bringing it closer to the water as panic overtook the woman. I was petrified, my stomach churned as I watched, horrified and unable to look away. Juan was quicker than me and turned off the device before that grotesque image materialized.
I turned to him, and saw he was pale beside me, his face a mask of shock and disgust.
“What the hell is this?” he muttered, his voice trembling.
“I… I don’t know,” I said, snapping out of the trance. “But that was the owner who talked to me.”
“What… what do we do now?” Juan asked, his voice wavering.
I didn’t have an answer. What could we do besides taking the footage to the police? That’s what we did. We drove in silence to the nearest police station, each of us lost in our own thoughts. The macabre video continued to echo in my mind, its disturbing images forever etched into my memory.
When we arrived at the police station, we were greeted by a duty officer. We explained the situation as best we could, handing over the tape as evidence. The officer listened to our story with a serious expression, making notes as we spoke, and then we followed him to a room where he and the detective watched what was recorded. This time I looked away, but I could hear everything, and they listened until the end…
The detective looked at us with a grim expression after the video ended. He thanked us for our cooperation and promised to investigate the matter. He said he would contact us if he needed any further information. And that’s what he did. I received the call the next day, in the late afternoon, summoning me to come back there again.
They asked me to pinpoint the location where I found the tapes on a map, and I did, showing the exact location of Mr. Joshua’s estate. By the way, we found out that wasn’t his real name; the documents and even the deed he showed us were forged. What disturbed me, however, was seeing a young woman, maybe 21, 22 years old, enter the room, covered in a thermal blanket. She was asked to identify a photo of Joshua, and as soon as she saw it, she started screaming. Her screams cut through the air of the police station, echoing through the corridors as she struggled to contain her agony. Her eyes overflowed with horror and anguish, her breath rapid and irregular filling the room.
“She was found near the location you indicated last Friday,” one of the police officers accompanying her said. “She had been missing for over a year.”
My heart stopped. I began to understand a little of what had happened that afternoon… She had managed to free herself and lunged at the door when she heard my footsteps, I suppose thinking I was her captor. That’s why she didn’t run after the car… I felt a bit of guilt for not helping, thinking that if they hadn’t found her quickly, something worse could have happened.
Furthermore, after a thorough search, they discovered the horrifying amount of 99 dolls in his house… all with tapes inside containing recordings similar to the one we watched. Each of the dolls was an exact copy of the victim in their video… The discovery left everyone horrified, especially because many of those young women had been missing for years, with no one knowing their whereabouts.
They requested confidentiality for the case, as they still hadn’t caught the suspect (and considering that there were no flights from the local airport to Romania on the day “Joshua” indicated), they decided it would be best to keep the developments hidden for the time being.
But why am I disclosing this? Well, yesterday morning, I woke up and as soon as I opened the door, I came face to face with a doll lying at my feet. A chill ran down my spine as I looked at the doll on the floor. Its vacant eyes seemed to stare at me, as if challenging me to uncover its origin. I bent down to pick it up, feeling a shiver run down my skin as my fingers touched its shiny hair…
Without hesitation, I brought the doll inside and placed it on the kitchen table, opening its back and finding, as expected, a tape. This time it had “100?” written on its spine. I called Juan and asked him to come over and bring the cassette player. In 5 minutes he had already arrived. The TV screen flickered, and the tape began to roll. At first, all we saw was static, but soon the images began to form. I had to contain my own fear when I recognized the little girl in the video: Becca.
She was playing on the slide while her mother watched her. You could hear heavy breathing in the background, as if he was… well… doing something in the bushes where he was. Juan was panting, and my state was close to his. The image turned to static again and cut to another scene. This time he was talking to the girl:
“Hi dear, what a beautiful dress!” his hoarse voice sounded.
“Thank you,” she said, unaware of the danger she was in. “My mom gave it to me.”
Juan started crying.
“She’s really good at that, huh? Do you want some candy?” he said, giving her the same kind of candy he gave me at the office.
“Yay!” she took the candy and ate it.
“I like playing here in the park, if you come more often, I can give you more.”
“Okay.”
The footage cut, this time to a doll, and Joshua’s last sentence:
“You will be my hundredth… and perhaps last.”
I’m shaking now. My mind doesn’t know what’s happening. Juan ran home 20 minutes ago, and I heard a sound coming from the backyard 10 minutes ago. I’m locked in the room while staring at the static on the screen. I don’t know what else to do…