Red Cassette

I thought nothing of the box under the stairs, just some old junk the previous owner left behind. They said he just disappeared, no one was sure when. Apparently he was some kind of recluse, rarely left his house and never talked to anyone. But this is sort of a nothing town with nothing going on, so it doesn’t surprise me that some homebody who probably just had internet access before everyone else would be the subject of rumors and legends. The last time anyone had heard from him was back in the late 90s, almost before I was even born. 

Still though, it felt odd moving into his old house. I never believed in ghosts or any of that paranormal bullshit. It’s all just campfire stories coming from scamsters hoping to make a quick buck off of some sucker. I was more concerned with the reputation of this old place. I’d very much like to have my friends over to pound a few brews and just forget about our work troubles for an evening, but it’s going to be difficult to convince anyone to spend a night at the old creepy ghost house, let alone my idiot work buddies. 

The previous owner left the place totally empty, either that or the few idiots in this town brave enough to step foot inside got to all the valuable stuff first. I hadn’t even noticed the moldy cardboard box in the crawlspace under the stairs for a week and a half. It smelled awful. The stupid bank or whoever repossessed this shack sure as shit didn’t take care of it. Instead, they left all the dirt and grime to be cleaned up by the first moron dumb enough to put a bid on the hole, who ended up being me. They left the walls, peeling paint, and creaking wood all behind. All this and one single cardboard box. 

I opened the first flap, trying not to gag as the stench of decades old cardboard and probably rat shit hit me right in the face. Luckily, I was covering my mouth and nose, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. With all the spooky legends and wives tales surrounding this place, I half expected there to be a crammed up body in there and prepared myself mentally for all the wannabe detective true crime podcasters I’d now have to interview with for the rest of my life. However, I wasn’t that fortunate. Looking back now, how I wish it would have been a mangled up, rotting corpse. That would have been a blessing compared to the horrors I had just opened.

Inside the box rested two items. The first one I picked out was an old looking cassette recorder with a built-in microphone. It looked like it was from the mid 90s or so. It had that smooth, almost sleek, looking appearance that tech had during that era, just before everything went digital. 

The next item was a bright red cassette tape, in oddly pristine condition. Despite its definite age, it looked like it had just been purchased from the general store down the street and freshly removed from its clear plastic skin. It made sense that these two were packaged together, I’d put together that the cassette contained a recording made on the device. Either that or it was bought with the intention of being recorded upon. Out of both curiosity and industrial grade boredom, I decided to plug in the recorder, put in the cassette, rewound to the beginning, and hit play. Immediately, a raspy voice began to speak through the analogue speakers, giving a sort of audio diary. 

January 3rd 1996

I am recording a log of my journey to obtaining ultimate power so that I can become more than a man. Men are fragile, flawed, and weak. I hope to become something greater. Everyday I spend amongst these primitive beings is a day I feel wasted. We only have a limited time on this plane. I plan to use it to become greater. 

Time. 

Time. 

Time. 

It’s all about time. 

January 14th 1996

I started at the clock for almost three hours last night, trying to understand the truth behind time itself. I've always hated the fact that time cannot be controlled the same way we can control so much. We don't understand time, yet we try to organize it into minutes, hours, days, etc. All for absolutely no purpose! You cannot organize chaos, unless it's through unorthodox means. The clock is ticking, it’s always ticking, it never stops. I need to figure this out soon. 

Okay? I thought, seems like the previous owner was actually as nuts as all the rumors. 

The words from the speaker simply moved through the air and swam through my brain, without me bothering to care for the implications. Sounded like either the ramblings of a cabin fever ridden hermit or the sloppy start of some early internet ARG. 

I let the tape continue.  

February 17th 1996

It's small, but I've made progress. As I watched the second hand on the clock tick by, only ever moving forward, I became enraged by my inability to control the chaos that is time. In doing so, I slammed my fist through the glass coffee table, spilling my blood everywhere. When I looked back at the clock, I noticed something strange. The second hand went backwards, only once, but enough to motivate me to keep going. I'm not sure what I did, but I will soon. Perhaps it was my concentration, will power, or just sheer luck. But whatever the case, this is a major revelation. I will understand the secrets of time. 

The recorded words started to grab at my attention more and more as the device spoke. It all still sounded completely asinine to me, just like the dude needed anger management courses and a better clock. 

February 29th 1996

The date today serves as a reminder to how flawed our attempt to organize the chaos known as time really is. An extra day added onto an arbitrary calendar to account for a mistake. I see now that the numbers we assign to these pieces of time means nothing! All another feudal attempt by an inferior species to categorize what cannot be contained 

‘The guy’s got beef with leap days now?’ I thought, How pathetic. 

June 3rd 1996

After months of studying and rituals and attempts to recreate that moment where time seemed to move backwards for a fraction of a second, I've finally figured it out. Blood! It was the blood I spilled in trying to understand the perfect chaos that is time which allowed me to manipulate it for a brief moment. However, I am concerned with the amount of blood I had to draw in order to move the clock back even a fraction of a second. This could prove to be an issue.  I will continue my research and report back with any findings. 

July 20th 1996 

I attempted to use my own blood for my time rituals, but it seems like, as I suspected, I'll need a lot of blood in order to manipulate the flow of time for even a fraction of a second. I do not have enough in my own body to sustain the rituals. I'll need to find another way to get more blood. I will need a lot of it. Stories of ancient civilizations tell of rituals involving human or animal sacrifice, many now lost to the ever falling sands of time. Perhaps they forgot how or why they did such. Or perhaps these secrets were buried intentionally. I believe I may have uncovered an ancient secret, one that was deemed too dangerous for anyone to know. 

September 13th 1996

I've been attempting to use blood bags stolen from hospitals, but it's still not enough. Additionally, it seems that fresh, warm blood is more potent and therefore more appropriate for what I'm attempting to do. I feel like soon I will have to resort to drastic measures. I have already had to give up much of my morals and standards in my experiments, perhaps now I will have to do more. 

‘OK, if this is real then this dude is admitting to actual crimes,’ I thought.

September 12th 1996

I've done it. I've killed a man. No one important, just a drunk homeless man wandering about the streets. No one will miss him. But more than that, as you can tell by the current date, I've finally made a major breakthrough. An able-bodied 54 year old man's blood was enough to travel back in time 27 hours. This is huge! I feel like I've already ascended past the bounds of humanity to become something greater. The power is intoxicating!...but I need more. One day is simply not enough. I need more blood. 

‘…What the fuck,’ I thought. 

At first I was thinking that this was either a half assed attempt to start an experimental indie horror project or just the ramblings of a deranged shut-in. But now, listening to this admission of murder, I was starting to have a chill run down the back of my neck. I paused the tape, trying to gather my thoughts on the whole thing. I’ve lived in this nowhere town my whole life, so I was going back through some of the rumors that got spread around. Then I remembered something. The corpse of an unknown homeless man was found in an alley, completely drained of blood. Schoolyard rumors began to spark up about a vampire stalking the streets, but I never thought it was true. 

With these thoughts coming back so suddenly, I started to feel foolish for having forgotten them up until now. It was a one off, however, they never found another body and the case kinda died there, along with the man in the street. Perhaps when I’m done listening to this tape I should hand it over to law enforcement so they can finally solve this. 

With that, I resolved to listen to the rest of the blood red cassette. I hit play once again.  

December 1st 1996

Finding bodies that won’t be missed has begun to grow more difficult, yet the results of my experiment have yielded tremendous results. I am now able to travel back and forth about 25-30 hours with each full body of blood I harness. Bodies is the wrong word, I don’t see them that way anymore. They are so beneath me now, they are merely blood bags to me. 

The others. How could I have forgotten the others? So many bodies drained of blood started to be found peppered throughout the town, with little care put into dignity for the dead. I remember them being more homeless people at first, then it was terminally ill patients, people who were at death’s door already. This was big news all over the town. How could I have forgotten?

June 21st 1997

At first I tried to find blood bags that wouldn’t be missed. Not because I cared for them or their families, but because I couldn't afford to have the police put an end to my plans. But now, that is no concern. With my absolute mastery over time, I will never be caught. I am so far above any of these blood bags now. Yet, I still need more. 

I had a friend who was one of them, one of the victims. They found him in his car, his corpse completely dry. He was a young death, but you would never know by looking at the body. 

But how could I have forgotten this until now? It impacted me so much, but I never even thought about this while listening to the tape until this moment. 

March 12th 1997

I have amassed so much power, but it’s still not enough. I need more! One blood bag at a time isn’t enough anymore. I need a pile of blood bags. I need to do something drastic…

It was a bus full of college students, just passing through on a school trip. They found it in a ditch, rotten and desolate, despite having been a brand new vehicle, as if it had lied there for decades. 42 bodies in all, completely empty, blood and organs. I remember this of course, how could I ever forget, it was just before they found my friend. But the odd thing was…I don’t remember remembering it…

Wait a minute, I thought as I paused the tape. The date…was this entry dated before the last one? 

I began to freak out. All of this was true. I remember it all so vividly but…I couldn’t at the same time. It was as if history was being rewritten as the cellophane tape wove its way through the gears and grooves of its plastic container. 

I needed to bring this to the police right away. Finally all this pain could end. I unplugged the player and began to run to my door. However, despite having no power source, the tape began to play one last time…

The date does not matter to me anymore

I have truly become a god! Not just a god, I am GOD! I can walk through the stream of time just as easily as one would walk across the street. I only have one left in this town, then I will have truly ascended. 

Just then, as my hand was about to turn the knob, there was a knock at the door. I jumped back. It couldn’t be anyone from town…they were all dead. 

Are you going to let me in?