I don’t know where to start with this. Even thinking about it makes me feel uneasy, like I’m inviting something dark and sinister into my life just by talking about it. But I have to share my story, because I can’t keep this to myself any longer. It all started with a vintage vinyl player, a beautiful piece of machinery that I thought would bring me nothing but joy and nostalgia. Little did I know that it would lead me down a path of fear and terror. This is the story of how I encountered the unknown, and how I barely escaped with my sanity intact.
I’ve always been a collector of vintage electronics, and one of my prized possessions was a classic vinyl player. It was a beautiful piece of machinery, with intricate brass details and a rich, warm sound that was like nothing I’d ever heard from a modern device. I was a big fan of classic rock and metal music, and I loved playing my old Black Sabbath and The Doors records on it. The deep, haunting sound of those bands was perfect for the vintage feel of the vinyl player.
I had found the vinyl player at an old antique shop, tucked away in the corner of the store. The shopkeeper told me that it had belonged to an old music collector who had passed away many years before, and that it had been sitting in the store collecting dust ever since. Despite its age and obvious signs of wear, I was drawn to the machine and I knew I had to have it.
I brought the vinyl player home and set it up in my living room, eager to start listening to my records on it. At first, everything seemed perfect. The sound was crisp and clear, and I felt like I was transported back in time every time I played a record. But then, one day, as I was playing a particularly creepy old record, I started to notice something strange. The music was becoming more and more distorted, and I could hear whispers and voices that seemed to be coming from the machine itself. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but as the whispers grew louder, I realized that this was no ordinary vinyl player.
I tried to turn off the machine, but the power button wouldn’t respond. The voices grew more intense, and I could feel a cold, malevolent presence in the room. I was paralyzed with fear, unable to move or even scream. I felt as though I was being watched, as though something was reaching out to me from beyond the grave.
I tried to pull the needle off the record, but it wouldn’t budge. The music was becoming more and more distorted, and the whispers grew louder and more sinister. I could feel the cold presence getting closer, and I was sure that I was going to die. And then, suddenly, the room went silent. The vinyl player had stopped on its own, the needle stuck in the grooves of the record. I didn’t know what to do, but I was too scared to stay in the room any longer. I gathered my courage and fled the room, leaving the vinyl player behind.
I locked the door to the room and tried to forget about what had just happened. But the memory of the whispers and the distorted music stayed with me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.
Days passed, and I started to hear the whispers and the distorted music again, even when I was nowhere near the room where I had left the vinyl player. I was sure that I was going insane, and I didn’t know what to do.
That’s when I remembered the shopkeeper who had sold me the vinyl player. I decided to pay him a visit, to see if he could shed any light on what was happening to me.
When I arrived at the antique shop, the shopkeeper was nowhere to be found. But I did find an old diary, hidden away in a drawer. As I read through the pages, I learned that the previous owner of the vinyl player had been a music collector who had dabbled in the dark arts. He had used the vinyl player to channel spirits from beyond the grave, and he had written in his diary about how the machine had become possessed by an evil entity.
I realized then that the vinyl player was not just a machine, but a gateway to the other side. And I was afraid that the entity that had possessed the machine was now after me. I couldn’t keep living in fear, so I made the difficult decision to destroy the vinyl player. I took it to a remote location and burned it to ashes, hoping that it would break the connection between me and the entity.
To this day, I still have nightmares about that fateful day when I played my old Black Sabbath and The Doors records on the vinyl player. I can still hear the whispers and the distorted music in my head, and I’m always looking over my shoulder, afraid that the entity will come for me again. I learned the hard way that some things are better left in the past, and that some vintage electronics are not just machines, but gateways to the unknown.