Supernatural Short Stories Anthology Series of Scary Monsters and the Paranormal by Dean Rasmussen

Author:Dean Rasmussen [Rasmussen, Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781951120139
Publisher: Dark Venture Press
Published: 2020-09-12T22:00:00+00:00

Cassette

Blair hovered over Jake as he slipped the black cassette tape into the player.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Wasting time listening to a bunch of cruddy old cassette tapes. You might as well just throw those things out.”

“That’s your solution to everything, isn’t it? Just throw it out.”

“You’re so defensive, Jake. I’m your wife, remember?”

“You always remind me.” Jake rewound the tape. “These are valuable. Some of the last items from my childhood.”

Blair dug into Jake’s tote of childhood possessions and pulled out an old leather gun holster. She held it up with two fingers as if it were a piece of rotting flesh. “What’s this thing?”

Jake glanced at it. “Something I used to play with.”

“You wanted to be a cowboy?”

“Anything wrong with that?”

“I guess not.” She dropped it back into the tote. “Seems kind of silly, considering you grew up in New York City.”

“I just wanted to get out of there and have an adventure. I was a kid.”

“Can’t hang on to the past forever.” Blair grunted and left the room.

After the bedroom door clicked shut, Jake hit play on the tape deck. His cousin Logan’s voice blared out the name of their imaginary radio show, the “Jake and Logan Mystery Hour,” as if they were famous entertainers. Without a pause, they jumped into their first skit. Jake’s youthful voice brought a smile to his face. Even back when he was eleven years old he knew he wanted to entertain people.

It surprised him that any of his old cassette tapes had survived for so many years. Most of his childhood possessions had gotten thrown out by his minimalist parents after he’d left home for college, and he’d adopted the same habit of clearing clutter on a regular basis. Only one plastic tote left.

He grinned as he listened to the tape. Two decades had passed since he and his cousin had filled up several tapes with goofy, ranting sketches. Most of their antics made no sense now, but back then it had been magical. They recorded some of the best times of his life during those carefree summer days. Listening to his childish voice now was almost surreal. Familiar, yet like listening to a complete stranger.

The audio played and transported Jake back to that summer afternoon.

Logan: “Here’s the train, Jake, it’s coming over the mountain. Are you watching?”

Jake: “Aaah, lookout!”

Logan: “Get out of my way, you moron.”

Jake: “Turn!”

Logan: “I am turning. I can’t stop! All the way up the mountain, then down the other side. Aaah, I can’t stop! I’m going to crash!” (crash and explosion sounds)

Jake: “All fourteen passengers are presumed dead after smashing through the side of a building at the base of the railway. Seven additional bystanders were killed in the collision.”

Logan: “Someone call an ambulance! I think they’re dead!”

Jake furrowed his brow. That was strange. He and Logan had said a lot of crazy things in the tape recordings—that’s just how eleven-year-olds talked back then—but Jake didn’t remember saying anything so grown-up and morbid.

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