I’m sure you’ve heard at one point or another, usually from your elderly English teacher who’s deep in the throes of losing their mind, about the smell of the innards of a book. Regardless of their mental state, or lack thereof, we can usually all agree that it smells pretty good, nostalgic if you will. I’ve never really been one to go about sniffing things, especially if it isn’t foodstuffs, things I can’t consume. Unlike my mother, that pesky woman, who I’ve walked in sniffing the carpet on multiple occasions. Perhaps that’s the prolonged exposure to various hard drugs, but I digress.
I’m getting off base here, aren’t I? Anyways, I’m sure you, much like the other Neanderthals who use this website, are in search of a good, spooky story. Well I guess I’ve got that for you, right here. Not that you can see what I’m looking at right now, but it’s a box of old tapes I found while cleaning out my attic. There were a lot of rats in my attic! Ahhhhh! Fin.
Just kidding. Well, the rat part really isn’t a lie, unfortunately. I actually managed to befriend some of the ones my boot missed, the big stomp. I’m sitting here on my ratty old couch… there’s that word again… rat. Anyways, on my raggedy old couch, in my raggedy old apartment watching these, these…
Smelly tapes, that’s it!
Yes these tapes which sit before me smell horrendous. Like really bad. Which makes sense considering the state of my attic. I actually wasn’t aware I had an attic until one particular morning, a Tuesday which I like to call my weekly ‘Scooby Hunt’ where I look for crumbs to snack on to hold me over until grocery day. Anyways, this particular Scooby Hunt day was a complete bust, I couldn’t find a single scrap! It’s those god damn rats, I should exterminate the lot of them. I just can’t help but find Fiona wrapped up in her little newspaper bed so cute! I couldn’t bring myself to stomp her.
Oh gosh, this is why I don’t write I just can’t get to the point. I’m sorry. Long story short, I didn’t find any Scoobies and I had a bit of a meltdown, throwing, slamming, kicking whatever was in my site. The ruckus was so great that it sent the attic door and ladder, which was coincidentally right over my head, free falling. For about ten minutes I’d say, maybe more I’m not sure, my lifeless heap of a person was suspended in nothingness. Then I returned. After bumbling about for a few minutes, fading in and out of consciousness, I managed to scale the ladder and extend my Scooby Hunt upwards. That’s when I found the Smelly Tapes.
Now, like I said, I’m not one to go around sniffing inanimate objects for the fun of it. But the smell of these creatures, much like the rest of the attic, is not dissimilar to that of your sinks drain plug after a particularly raunchy bunch of dishes. Bonus note, if you ever find yourself heinously hungry, you can always eat the scraps at the bottom of the sink!
Alrighty, that’s enough of all that. I think you guys get the point now, I’m sure. Let’s get to it, the first tape that is. It seems they were meant to be watched in chronological order, all of them being labeled 1 through 11, though there seems to be a slot where the twelfth one goes… interesting.
I shoved the first tape in the slot of my Yamaha DVR C-300 (top of the line) and quickly pressed play, excitement bubbling, fit to burst from my veins.
The first half of this particular tape seemed more like a tutorial on how to use the camera these people had originally recorded this on. The main image on the small screen of my fat back television was mainly darkness, occasionally interspersed with random shots of a living room… my living room. It wasn’t difficult identifying the house in this video as my own, the various fist-sized holes blotted over the walls gave that away. I’ve added a few of my own since then!
Finally, after ten or fifteen minutes of two voices blabbering back and forth on how to use the camera, the entirety of my living room finally came into view. A small, skinny kid with a buzz cut stood centermost in the frame.
“Helloooo world! This is Thomas… my brother Camden is working the camera, say ‘Hi’ Camden”, he squealed out, the audio quality was… not great. The camera quickly turned and was completely taken over by another child, similarly skinny while also sporting a buzz cut.
“Hi Camden”, he screeched, I held Fiona and Mildred up to my ears, trying my best to block out the noise. The kid smiled, a huge, toothy, gapped grin. A bit of nostalgia hit me when I saw the various spots of missing teeth in the child’s grin. It reminded me of when I was just a little thing, taking great pleasure it yanking out my baby teeth. I still have em around here somewhere, probably the sock drawer.
The camera panned back to the living room, the child straightened his back up and motioned his hand towards the window.
“This, ladies and gentleman, is today’s first lesson”, he announced, the cameraman, camerakid rather, slowly walked over to the window. The large oak tree which sits just outside my place pretty much obscures any sort of view, though I could tell this was recorded at nighttime.
“It is 11:33 on the dot! Prime dog water hours!”, the kid continued, motioning for the camera to come even closer. “What is dog water you might ask? Well, have a look!”, I could feel the anticipation hanging heavy in the air, even now as I sit here stroking Fionas crusty, little chin.
As the camera drew closer, closer to the ledge of the window, it abruptly dipped down to reveal a large, fat man laying in your traditional ‘cat loaf’ just beyond the window, underneath the tree. He was making weird gestures with his hands and head, like he was sniffing the ground, picking it for ants and other grubby little mites.
The man turned his head, quickly, and stared the camera down with intensity. That’s when I noticed he was dressed in a rat costume. An odd cone-like muzzle was fitted around his face, with a set of Disneyland-esque mouse ears strapped to his head. It appeared that a cut up rubber hose was tied around his waist and acted as the tail. He was completely naked otherwise.
The kids giggled and screamed at the rat mans sudden interest, the camera pulled back and was now facing the dusty ceiling fan which looked fit to fall from the heavens at any moment.
Suddenly, the camerakid came into full view again, every booger and crustmite now enhanced by how close he held the camera to his face.
“If you’re new to this place, you better follow the rules!”, he yelped, his voice wavering in and out towards the end, as though he were mimicking a ghoul of some sort.
“Yeah!”, the other child screamed, though he tried to remain professional thereafter, “yes, around the times of… like 10 at night to about 8 in the morning you can’t leave.”
The camera went dead, black as coal. Perfect time for some popcorn! I hopped up from my couch, which is no small task, the dips in it feel like sinkholes, and made my way to the kitchen. After two or three tries I had finally made the perfect bowl of popcorn, the burnt pieces can certainly be reused for something else. Perhaps food for Fiona and Mildred, though I don’t like giving them human food too often! Cant have spoiled children, right?
Yknow I swear I heard scratching from the front door while I was in the kitchen, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it was more stray cats coming in through the pet door. So, naturally, I didn’t pay it too much mind.
I sunk back down into the couch and, right on cue, the camera feed picked back up. Up to this point, I’ve found this ‘lost footage’ stuff pretty hokey and ridiculous, but what I saw next made the blood drain from my face, I’m sure. The feed was exceedingly grainy at this point, a low battery icon indicated that death was on the horizon. In the last few moments of Tape 1, I could very vaguely make out the arm of the rat man shoved through the pet door, trying to reach the door knob from the outside.
Oh fuck, the scratching!
I hopped up from the couch, popcorn and Fiona flying unceremoniously into the dark corners of my living room, and ran to the front door. Just as I suspected, a fat, hairy arm had snaked its way through the pet door and was groping around aimlessly for the knob. Now, this might sound dumb, but my initial reaction was to run back to the kitchen and boil a pot of water. I’m not sure why, please don’t ask me.
After waiting a good five minutes, the water had begun sizzling and bubbling. Perfect. I ran back to the front door and unleashed the unholiest of rain down upon the rat mans ugly arm. Immediately, he pulled it back and I could hear a suspiciously humanoid hiss emanate from behind the door.
Since then, I’ve decided it was best to put the heavy TV in front of the pet door, hoping it would keep the rat man out. Oh yeah, well I guess his name is Dogwater… not really sure how I feel about that. If you guys have any suggestions for a better name, please don’t hesitate to comment them! It’s always good to shed some light on a dark situation, right?
I suppose it’s a good time to start a rule list while I’m at it, too. If you have any suggestions for that as well, I’m all ears!
Rule #1: don’t go outside between 10 PM and 8 AM (note: lock all windows and doors, too)
I’m hoping Dogwater isn’t too upset with me, he’s been giving me a really dirty look through the window ever since I doused him with the boiling water. Oh well. Survival of the fittest? Anyways, rule 1 should be easy enough to follow, I don’t leave this house much anyways.
I think I’ll wait til tomorrow to watch the second Smelly Tape.