VHS Tape
My grandmother’s house was a large, old-fashioned “kothi” located in a small town in Punjab. I spent almost every summer vacation at this house, and everything about this place reminded me of the best parts of my childhood.
One of my favorite things to do was rummage through the enormous collection of photo albums that stayed stashed away on one of the shelves in her bedroom. It’s got at least a thousand old pictures documenting decades of memories. I could spend hours looking at them with my grandmother by my side, re-telling stories I’ve heard at least a dozen times before.
Today, I decided to do it all over again.
I reached my hand up to the top shelf in the cupboard and grabbed all the albums that were there. After scattering them on the bedroom floor, I called my grandmother, and we spent the next few hours turning pages and reminiscing.
As we were talking, my eyes wandered to the shelf. A strange white bag caught my eye.
“What’s that?” I asked my grandmother. She simply glanced at it, and her expression changed in a way I couldn’t understand. I brought the bag down and examined it. It contained several VHS tapes. I gasped out of joy.
“I didn’t know we had these!” I exclaimed to my grandmother. She still looked a little confused and peeked inside the bag.
“I’m not sure these belong to us, dear. Put it away.” She wasn’t just confused; she was concerned. But curiosity got the better of me. Surely they had to belong to someone in the family if they were in the house, right?
I remembered that my grandmother used to own a VHS player, although I couldn’t recall the last time I had seen it. After a considerable amount of searching, I eventually found it tucked away in the storeroom behind some boxes. It took me a few YouTube tutorials to figure out how to operate it, and after I successfully connected it to the screen, I had to decide which tape to play.
There was one that quickly caught my eye. All it said was ‘OCT 31’.
“Halloween?” I muttered, immediately laughing at the thought of my grandparents celebrating Halloween in India in the ’80s. I put the tape in the player and waited for it to start. The screen flickered, and the image of a dimly lit living room was displayed on the screen. It took me only a few seconds to recognize it. It was the living room I was sitting in.
The same high ceiling, the same arched doorway, and the same windows overlooking the front yard. Although the furniture was different and the walls looked darker, it was unmistakably the place I grew up in.
I moved closer to the screen to examine the video. The footage was grainy and distorted, also filmed from an awkward angle, as if someone was sitting on a chair and recording it.
For a while, nothing happened. Then a shadow crossed the screen, and a woman walked past the camera.
I couldn’t see her face clearly, but I knew I had never seen her before. She moved with a strange stiffness and left her arms dangling at her sides. She didn’t look at the camera. Not even once. It was oddly unsettling.
A minute later, another person entered. And then another. Soon, the room was filled with people. It looked like a party. A Halloween party?
My heart started pounding. I leaned closer to the screen, trying to make out their faces. Some carried plates. Others stood near the windows or gathered in small groups, engaged in conversation.
There was just something wrong with them. The longer I watched, the more uncomfortable I became. Then, I finally put my finger on it.
None of them looked familiar. Not a single face.
I shifted in my spot and glanced at the same corner from which the video was filmed. It was an ordinary corner, and I had never once felt afraid of it.
And yet, looking at that corner now, I felt an inexplicable chill creep up my spine.
On the screen, the party continued. People moved between rooms; someone appeared to be pouring drinks. A man stood near the doorway, and two women sat beside each other on the sofa, their hands folded neatly in their laps.
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Nobody spoke loudly. Nobody laughed.
The only sound that was on the video was a low hissing sound, like faint breathing in the background.
Then I noticed their faces.
Every single one of them had the same expression.
Nothing.
I scanned all their faces again. They were completely devoid of emotion, and their eyes appeared unnaturally dark, almost black. It was the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen.
The cameraman suddenly got up from his spot and started walking around the room. The lady at the beginning of the video appeared again. Her long dark hair and pale skin filled the screen.
She slowly looked at the camera, and without changing the rest of her expression, she smiled. A wide, tight-lipped smile.
The smile never reached her eyes, though. They were as empty and dark as ever.
My stomach dropped, and I felt sick.
The camera then moved away from her and started going into the bedroom. More people appeared and made way for the cameraman to move past them.
They moved slowly but deliberately.
The camera panned inside the bedroom. A man sat at the end of the bed, perfectly still. He started moving his neck in the direction of the camera. When he had turned enough for me to see his face, my blood ran cold.
It was me.
It was me as I looked right now.
Its lips began to stretch, and the same horrible tight-lipped smile spread across its face.
I jolted away from the screen, my heart almost beating out of my ribcage.
I looked back at the bedroom door and at the screen again. The figure hadn’t moved and was still smiling at me, with its eyes growing darker with each second.
I reached for the cable that connected the player with trembling hands and pulled it out of the socket. The screen went black, and the room fell awfully silent.
The silence was heavy until I heard a faint hiss on the screen.
The tape had started playing again.
