I’m something of a collector.
If it’s strange, if it’s cursed, if it’s twisted, haunted, or tinged with the supernatural in any way, then I want it. I’ve been actively collecting for a few years now, so my house plays host to all sorts of unique artifacts. I’ve got everything from a book that drives readers insane (haven’t got around to reading it yet), to a dybbuk box (a real one, I swear), to a unicorn skull (bigger than you’d think). So many treasures to study and admire.
But my recent favorite by far is the television.
*
It was my friend Liza who sold the television to me, though she tried to talk me out of it.
It wasn’t even what I was originally there for. See, Liza’s a collector and seller of obscure antiques and rare items, and in her work it’s not uncommon for her to stumble on something right up my alley. Sometimes she saves these things for the Velvet Room auctions, but sometimes she’ll save one special for me and ring me up to have a look.
That Friday morning a few weeks ago, she’d left me a message about coming to see a vintage book of spells supposedly kept by Jack Parsons. I already have an entire bookcase of just spell books, but given that Parsons was an occultist of notoriety, I was intrigued by it for its historical significance. So I threw on some clothes, told the dog to keep an eye out while I was gone, and drove on over to Liza’s.
An hour later my truck was parked outside her unreasonably large house, the sort of Victorian gothic monstrosity out in the countryside that you’d expect an antique collector to go gaga for. She opened the front door before I’d even made it to the porch steps and ushered me in with a bright smile. Her brown hair was done up in soft curls, and she wore the same ruby red lipstick and midnight eyeliner that she always did to age up her baby-faced features a bit and look her thirty years. She says it helps clients take her more seriously.
We hugged, caught up a bit. As usual, she had tea and cookies ready for me in her sitting room. We chatted and sipped on a vintage Narcissus, surrounded by Liza’s numerous odds and ends, our conversation punctuated by the ticks of her three grandfather clocks. After catching up, Liza sent me to wash my hands and had the book waiting for me when I returned. I began inspecting it, taking mental notes of the quality of preservation and the added value of Parsons’ handwritten notes in the margins.
“So where’d you find this gem, Liz?” I asked as I thumbed through it.
“Oh, I bought it off a collector upstate,” she said. “It came in a bundle with a few other things. I really only wanted the seance table, but the seller insisted that it was to be sold with the other items.”
“Why? Is it all part of a set?”
“Certainly not, none of it relates to each other at all. But the collector’s in the process of selling his entire collection, and he’s made it clear he’s in a rush to do so. I get the sense he’s selling in bundles just to get rid of things as quickly as possible.”
I looked up from the spell book, surprised. “He’s selling his whole collection? That’s pretty extreme. Is he moving out of the country or something?”
Liza grinned wryly. “Well, he’s a believer in the supernatural, like you. From what I gleaned in conversation, he got his hands on a few items that spooked him silly, and now he wants nothing to do with any of it.”
A little thrill ran through me. An item that could scare a man so badly he’d sell off his whole collection, no doubt years upon years worth of work, had to be something juicy.
“Were any of those ‘spooky’ items included in the bundle you bought, by chance?” I asked Liza, looking around.
“Hm, there was one included that he was complaining about. I put it here somewhere . . . ah, there.” Liza walked across the sitting room, heels clacking on the floor. Nestled between the aforementioned seance board and a potted Norfolk pine was a squat object draped in a sheet. Liza pulled the sheet off to reveal the television.
It was an old, black, boxy model. The kind you might have had in the early 90s, and small enough to comfortably carry.
“A TV?” I asked. “Really? That scared him?”
Liza laughed. “I had to do a bit of prying to get it out of him, but he claimed he could hear demons through it, or something like that, and insisted it can’t be left on for long. Imagine. Voices from the other side reaching out through the TV. A quintessentially modern ghost tale. I think the poor guy got carried away with some whiskey while flicking through channels, is all.”
“So you don’t believe him.”
“I don’t.” Liza shot me an amused look. “But I’m guessing you do.”
“Let’s just say I’m curious. Curious enough that I’ll buy it along with this,” I said, closing the spell book. “Five thousand for the book, and I’ll throw in a thousand for the TV.”
Liza’s eyes went wide. “AC, darling, I can’t let you do that. The book, sure, but the TV is junk. Believe me, I’ve had it sitting here a week and I haven’t heard any ‘demonic voices’. I was going to take it to the dump tomorrow.”
“Nevertheless, I want it.”
“It’s a waste of space. It barely even turns on.”
“Still want it.”
“For goodness sake, you ridiculous creature. If you really want the damn thing, at least let me give it to you free,” Liza said, exasperated. “I can’t have you blowing a thousand dollars for nothing on my conscience.”
“And if this is the real deal, I can’t have cheating you out of its value on my conscience.” I carefully set the book down on the table and pulled my checkbook out of my pocket. I ignored Liza’s continued protests and wrote out a cheque for six thousand. “Say whatever you want, Liz, but my mind’s made up. This baby’s coming home with me.”
*
“MIDGE!” I called out to my dog as I hauled the tv through the front door, with Parsons’ wrapped book on top of it. I slammed the door shut behind me with my foot and called again. “MIDGE! COME DOWN!”
Seconds later, I heard the staccato beats of Midge’s paws bounding down the stairs as she ran to greet me. Midge is a mutt, mid-sized with soft yellow fur and the cutest curlicue tail you ever saw. That’s not why I picked her out at the pound though. What really makes Midge special is her left eye, milky white and blind. Over the last two years, it’s served me as wonderfully as I hoped. It sees things before I do.
“Good girl, Midgey,” I cooed down at her, carrying the TV into my study. She trotted by my side with her tail wagging. “I got us something real neat from Liza today, and I’d like you to help me take a look if you don’t mind.”
I set the TV down on my desk, sweeping aside old papers and journals. I put the new spell book with the rest in the library, then came back and plugged in the TV, feeling ready to burst with giddiness.
The TV crackled to life, its thick glass screen filling with gray static. I turned the volume up high and stared at that little square of static with anticipation. And stared. And stared. And stared some more.
It briefly occurred to me that I may indeed have just blown a thousand dollars.
Midge was behind me, idly sniffing around at some taxidermied specimens I had behind the study door.
“Midge! C’mere!” I called her over, impatient. She hurried over and licked my palm. I crouched down next to her, scratching behind her ear as I pointed up at the TV. “See anything?”
Midge’s gaze followed my direction, her good eye and blind eye both fixed on the screen. A few seconds passed without her reacting. She blinked her good eye. Then she went dead still.
She continued staring up at the screen, her lips curling up to bare her teeth as she let loose a low, ragged growl. The TV speakers sparked and fizzed, prompting her to growl louder. Her ears went back and she barked viciously up at the TV.
I burst into a smile and scratched behind her ear again. I grabbed her a treat from the bag on my desk and gave it to her. “Good girl, Midge! Very, very good girl. Now run on upstairs.”
Midge, protective though she may be, was only too happy to obey that command. She zoomed out of the study so fast you’d think she was the Flash. I stood up and grinned at the TV with a little wave.
“Howdy.”
Nothing but static.
“There’s no use hiding.” I leaned in closer. “I know you’re in there. How’s about a little chat?”
Static.
“I heard you’re the talkative type, so go on. Talk. I’d be very interested in what you have to say.” I grabbed a nearby notebook and pen.
Static.
“Alright. Have it your way. You’ll want to talk eventually.” I shrugged with a sigh and turned to leave the room. I glanced back at it over my shoulder just before walking out. “If there’s anything you and I have in common, it’s that we’ve both got all the time in the world.”
*
I left the study door open and the TV on the rest of the day, waiting for whatever was in there to reach out. All throughout the house, I could hear the faint crackle of static as I went about doing chores and working on projects. Midge didn’t venture downstairs once.
The sun went down. Once darkness fell in and around the house, I finally heard it.
A single, raspy “hello?” from the study.
I grabbed my notebook and pen and ambled over, triumphant.
I walked into the study and shut the door behind me. The study light was off, so the only light in the room came in the form of the TV’s cold, blue-tinged glow. The air swelled with the relentless fizz of static. I stepped closer, squinting into the senseless visual noise that continued to play within the cramped confines of the TV screen. After a moment of staring, I saw a faint shape hidden in the static. The barest outlines of a head, a nose, a mouth.
“Ready to chat?” I asked it. My own voice sounded alien among the sound of static.
The head tilted. “Who are you?”
Its voice sounded borderline feminine, yet hollow and discordant, like corrupted audio.
“Just a friendly collector and inquirer,” I said, flipping the notebook open to scribble notes and observations. I would never be stupid enough to give this thing my name. “The better question is, who are you? A demon? A ghost?”
The voice hesitated before answering. “I’m a movie star.”
I paused in my writing. “Pardon?”
“I was in the movies,” it said faintly, then with more conviction. “Yes, I was in the movies. With all the power of a million eyes on me.”
“That is indeed a lot of power. But I need a more specific detail to buy that claim. Like your name.”
It twitched. “I . . . I don’t remember.”
“What a shame. What do you remember, then?”
“I remember the table. The five-pointed star carved into it, to mirror the black sun. I remember the blood-tempered blade. I remember the television on and hooked to the camera, so I could catch the moment forever. I remember I wanted more.”
“More of what?”
“More of everything, of course. More roles in more films, better ones, more exposure, my name on more tongues and my eyes in more dreams, more knowledge. To know and be known is power.”
“Ri-i-g-h-t. Think I’m getting the picture here.” I grinned and tapped my pen against my chin. “Toying with forces you thought you could control, fumbling the ritual. You wouldn’t be the first. So what sacrifice did you try to get away with half-assing?”
The face contorted briefly into something hideous, its features screwing tightly toward the center before it smoothed itself back into neutrality.
“I was arrogant as you are, once. I was foolish and small. Before I was in here.”
“Where exactly is ‘in here’?” I tapped the screen glass. The figure within recoiled.
“Come inside and see,” it whispered.
I chuckled and shook my head. “That’s no answer. How about Hell? Is it Hell?”
“Hell is many places. Hell is far away and all around and very close.” The mouth opened wide into a silent scream. “The Earth is just one small pocket. One pocket with its own rules. Those mewling writings of the bible’s ‘Hell’ are children’s fairytales beside what truly lies just beside your world. In some worlds all is flesh. In some, nothing is. In some, you breathe the dark in your lungs like water, always drowning but never dying. In some, you are the blood-raw fruit growing along the branch, hanging precariously by a vein, miles and miles high, waiting to be plucked. There are worlds of watching shadows and blinking eyes, worlds I cannot make you understand with mere words. They are pressing against the soft boundaries of yours, gnawing gently at the skin. You are frightened.”
“Not at all.” I continued writing down her words.
“I see it through the glass. Your heart is beating faster. The other I told was frightened too, so frightened he screamed himself hoarse by the tenth night. But you don’t need to be frightened. Once you get used to the pain, it is beautiful.”
I’m not too proud to admit that something about the way it spoke unnerved me. Speaking to a spirit (or whatever this former-human was now), I expected wrath, confusion, threats, incomprehensible wails. Yet the calm with which it spoke as it described all this felt out of place. Sincere.
“I can show you. I can show it all to you.”
“I’d like to see.” I glanced down at the TV controls. “Do I have to switch channels or something?”
“Come inside and see,” it said. “Or else I must come out to show you.”
“Yeah, nice try,” I snorted. “How about you just show me from over there?”
“I have told you your two choices.”
“Hard pass on both.”
“Let me show you. I want to show you.”
“Then find another way.”
“There is no other way. There is no easy way,” it breathed. “It is the lesson I have learned well. Nothing is given without something taken. But I swear to you, the sacrifice is always worth it. The pain is exquisite.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Look, if you won’t show me anything from this other world, let’s circle back to your life. How’d you get mixed up in occultism? When you got locked in during the ritual, did anything from the other side escape?”
Static.
“Oh, so we’re back to the silent treatment?”
The mouth closed.
“Fine by me. Like I said earlier, we’ve got plenty of time. You just let me know when you feel like talking again.” I snapped my notebook shut with a yawn and slipped it onto the desk beside the television. “Been a long day. I for one am heading to bed. I’ll swing back around in the morning to check up on you. G’nite.”
I left the television on, the volume up, and the door open, in case it wanted or needed to call to me in the middle of the night. I then went upstairs to bed, the sound of static growing quieter behind me.
*
At around three in the morning, I woke to the sound of Midge’s low growls.
I sat up groggily, barely out of the daze of sleep. Midge was on the foot of the bed with her back to me. Her hackles were raised and her ears pinned back as she growled at the open doorway. I rubbed my eyes and looked ahead. As far as I could see, there was only the darkness of the hallway wall.
But there was also the sound of static. Just a little louder than before.
I went still. Midge’s growls grew louder as she glared at the doorway. So too did the static. Then a little louder. And a little louder. A blue glow, so faint I very nearly couldn’t see it, shined out of sight down the end of the hall, where the stairs would be.
As the static continued to grow louder, the blue glow continued to grow brighter, and Midge’s growling grew desperate and more frantic, her entire body trembling.
Louder, brighter.
Louder, brighter.
Louder, brighter.
And then it was standing in the doorway.
I froze in place, my stomach lurching as I stared at what had escaped the TV. I trembled as badly as Midge.
It was a faint, ever-shifting shape, all draped in static. There were the barest outlines of a head, a nose, a mouth. All else was impossible to describe. Anywhere my eye settled on it, the image grew blurry and discombobulated. There was a constant visual flux that gave me the sense that it was not the thing before me that failed to be seen, but my own primitive eyes that could not process the sight.
It moved closer, until it was inches from the foot of the bed. Behind it, flat blots of static writhed on the floor.
“Let me show you,” it breathed. “I want to show you.”
I snapped out of it then. I grabbed Midge and bolted out of bed as the thing lurched forward onto the bed, running around it into the hall. The hallway and stairs were peppered with those strange blots, and I did my best to avoid them as I ran downstairs to the front door. I threw it open and practically chucked Midge out. I swung it shut and locked myself in before she could dart back in after me.
“Truck!” I yelled at her through the door. She whined for a second but made for the truck bed when I repeated the command. By that time a blue glow was already casting my shadow on the door.
The thing from the TV dragged itself down the stairs toward me, looking as though every step it took was excruciatingly painful. I grabbed the closest thing to me, a boot from the shoe rack, and hurled it at the thing as hard as I could, hoping to throw it off balance.
Instead, the boot sailed clean through the thing’s center, disappearing into the static.
Excellent, that did nothing. I cursed under my breath and dashed to the living room with my hunter in close pursuit. The static blots were everywhere there, pulsating. The sound was deafening, unbearable, a ceaseless crescendo of noise.
The only thing I could think to do was get to the TV in the study. I had a wild hope that if I altered it somehow, whether that meant fiddling with the controls or unplugging it, that might be enough to sever whatever access the being had to this world.
But those goddamn fucking blots. I had to weave and hop and hug the wall just to avoid them, slowing me down and making me easier prey for the thing that followed. I could hear its hollow breathing just behind me. My lungs heaved and my heart thundered as leaped over blot after blot, until finally I was at the threshold of the study. On the desk, the tv glowed blank and blue.
But it seemed I was too slow.
Before I could even step through the door frame, something came down on my left shoulder and held me in place. I turned my head instinctively to look and saw buzzing static where my shoulder should have been. An unspeakable cold washed over my arm, worse than if I’d sunk it bare into snow. I felt myself turned around to face a head, a nose, a mouth. It leaned in close. Close enough to block out the sight of anything else. My eyes ached from trying to see it.
“Let me show you.”
It shifted to hold my head in place. With my right hand, I grabbed the doorframe. I thought maybe I could use it as leverage to pull myself out of the thing’s grip. But even as I tensed to tighten my grip, the thing was already leaning in closer, until the world went dark and the cold washed over my head—
And it was an unspeakable cold.
The kind of cold born from nothingness. The kind of cold that occurs when all the atoms of the universe hang still in suspension. The void of interstitial space.
And, pulsing in the pockets of infinity, there were worlds.
My eyes did not fail me now. I could see impossibly far into whichever one I liked. As promised, I saw the lands of flesh, planet-sized organisms that writhed in the smoldering heat of black stars. I saw the dead worlds, flat and barren lands that stretched on forever into the dark. I saw the black, viscous oceans. I saw the living bodies that grew upon behemoth trees, agony-struck eyes staring up as they waited second by excruciating second. I saw the deep dreams and the uncoiling memories of the dead. I saw alien empires of gods. I saw you, as you will be, as you could be, as you shouldn’t be.
I was torn apart. And fused back together. And torn, and fused, on and on as my body screamed and as I looked at it all.
Everything that was mystery, that was forbidden, that was deranged and profane and indecipherable and bloody-born and backward, everything that was terrifying and exquisite, was right there for me to see at my leisure.
I could have stayed there forever.
But I could still feel my hand gripping the doorframe.
I tightened my grip on it, used it to pull myself backward—
And I was back in the study, face to face with the creature. I was sick to my stomach, my head reeling from the intense cold and the visions, but I had just barely enough presence of mind to move.
I turned and lunged for the TV, the thing behind me lurching to grab me again. I grabbed the TV with what little strength I still had and held it in front of me like a shield as the thing threw itself at me with a faint scream.
The scream was muffled as the thing collided with the TV screen, halfway inside the TV. Catching on, I thrust the television further over the entity, forcing it back inside. I had to throw my entire body weight over the back of the TV to first fully engulf the entity, then to keep it trapped inside, holding the TV screen-down on the study floor. The thing continued to scream and rage inside as I extended my leg and hooked my ankle around the television cord. I then yanked it from the outlet.
The noise stopped. The TV went still. All was quiet and dark in my house again.
*
So, lesson learned, I will not leave the television on overnight again.
The blots that my otherworldly visitor trailed throughout the house are gone, though they left black spots on my carpet that will have to be steam-cleaned out. Midge remains so freaked by the experience that she still won’t even go near my regular TV. As for the haunted one, it still turns on and still shows static, though I have not seen the entity that inhabited it since that first night. Whether it’s purposely hiding itself or it’s lost in some other world, I can only guess. I’ve been researching who it might have been when it was human. No leads so far.
But despite everything, I count this as a win. I’m sure that with a little repair and experimentation I’ll be able to use that TV to see into those other worlds from a safe distance. I can’t wait to see it all again.
Once you get used to the pain, it is beautiful.