AHH! That's What I Call Horror by Chelsea Pumpkins

AHH! That's What I Call Horror by Chelsea Pumpkins

Author:Chelsea Pumpkins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PIT


8 p.m.

I switch the outside lights off, I lock the front door. Patrick and Amani wait for me in the back. My heart skips a beat. I wonder who she’s dating now, what kind of cool life she has. And here I am, working at a Blockbuster. How pathetic.

“So you’re saying something happened to the tape?” Patrick says as I approach.

“Yeah, it’s beyond bizarre,” she replies. “Seriously. Twilight Zone levels of weird.”

I take them through the employees only door, where the store has a large storage room with old promotional material, damaged goods, a computer for management, and a TV and VCR for checking tapes.

I want her to leave but I also don’t. I want her to be with me. I want to know what she's been doing. I want to know her.

A rich boyfriend, maybe another college student, or a movie director. That’s who I picture her with, while I’m here, stuck in Gray Springs.

I take them past the shelves collecting dust, to the desk with the small TV and the VCR. I am overly conscious of Amani’s body heat as she stands behind me, too close for comfort. Too close to remain … distant.

Patrick brings his camcorder up and it hums in the silence of the back room. I can hear Amani breathing.

The tape whirs. Static erupts on the TV’s screen.

“Let’s just see what we see,” I say.

That’s when everything gets out of control.

On the TV, the static morphs to a black screen. Then a white dot. A woman’s face weeping. A figure behind her, enormous, incomprehensible. A sound like buzzing bees. A smell of burning plastic. A child. Blood. The sound of breathing speeding up. Stopping. My heart races. I want to puke. I can’t. I'm not me. There is something else in the backroom. A sense of presence. The smell of other. Taste on tongue. Death. Picture changes. A man screaming, A building burning. Uncle Will. I see him. Screaming. Trying to run. Trying to stop them. It escalates. It’s too much. Vision spots. Bitterness on my tongue. Nostrils burn with dry air.

Fingers reach out. Fumble. Seek.

Then I find the button. I turn it off. But is it too late?

The present is a weight that sinks in, brightening my view. I find myself, I find my center. I’m in between Patrick and Amani. The video has stopped.

“Holy shit,” Patrick says and lets the camcorder drop.

“See?” Amani adds.

This isn’t the first complaint I’ve gotten about romance movies. I’d never bothered to watch the returned tapes. It’s never worth my time, especially at minimum wage. I just issued refunds. But now something itches at the back of my mind.

“This is crazy,” Patrick breathes.

“My mom wasn’t impressed, that’s for sure,” Amani adds. “I figured some sicko messed with the tape.”

“Let me just check the computer.” I lead the way back to the store, to the counter, and start navigating the clunky DOS system.

“Mrs. Barnett rented it before you.” I tap through the screens. “I doubt a kindergarten teacher is up to something like what we saw.



Download



Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.