The VHS Tape: A Time Capsule from My Childhood

As I rummaged through my attic, I stumbled upon an old cardboard box buried beneath a pile of forgotten school projects and toys. The box was unmarked, with only a plain black cassette peeking out from within. It was the kind we used to record birthday parties and Saturday morning cartoons, but I didn't remember making it or even owning a camera at that age. The dull plastic was coated with a thin layer of dust, staring up at me like it had been waiting for years.

I wasn't sure why I took the cassette downstairs, but something about it felt wrong. It didn't belong with the other junk from my childhood, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that I needed to watch this. My hand hovered over the VCR, a relic buried under DVDs and tangled cords, but still working despite its age. With a sense of trepidation, I shoved the tape into the machine and pressed play without hesitation.

As I waited for the recording to start, I half-expected to see a long-forgotten school play or a grainy family vacation on screen. But what flickered onto the screen was nothing I could have prepared for. The dimly lit room that appeared before me was my old bedroom from when I was twelve years old. Posters of superhero cartoons plastered the walls, and the old bedspread I had long forgotten sat rumpled in the background. And there, sitting on the floor in front of the camera, was me - or at least, a version of me that I hadn't seen before.

I felt a shiver creep over me as I stared into my twelve-year-old self's unblinking eyes. His face was serious in a way that felt wrong for a boy his age, and his gaze seemed too aware, too focused. It was like looking at an older version of myself, but one that didn't quite match the memories I had stored away. As I gazed deeper into the camera, I realized that this twelve-year-old me looked different from how I remembered - colder, more introspective.

The kid in the recording began to speak, his voice low and steady. "I've been watching you," he said, his eyes never leaving the lens. The words sent a chill down my spine, and I felt like I was staring into the abyss. Who was this version of me, and why had he recorded himself speaking directly to...me?

"WEBVTTKind: captionsLanguage: enWhen I found the VHS tape, it was buried in a cardboard box at the back of my attic,  along with old toys and forgotten school projects. It was unmarked, just a plain black cassette,  the kind we used to record birthday parties and Saturday morning cartoons. I didn’t remember  making it. Hell, I didn’t even remember owning a camera at that age. But there it was—dull plastic  coated with a thin layer of dust, staring up at me like it had been waiting.I wasn’t sure why I took it downstairs, but something about it felt wrong. It  didn’t belong with the other junk from my childhood. The moment I touched it,  an unsettling thought wormed into my head: I need to watch this. And so, I did.The VCR was a relic, buried under DVDs and tangled cords, but it still worked. I shoved the tape in,  pressing play without hesitation, half-expecting to see a long-forgotten school play or a grainy  family vacation. But what flickered onto the screen was nothing I could’ve prepared for.The screen crackled to life, showing a dimly lit room—my  old bedroom from when I was twelve. Posters of superhero cartoons plastered the walls,  the old bedspread I’d long forgotten sat rumpled in the background. And there,  sitting on the floor in front of the camera, was me. My twelve-year-old self.The kid stared straight into the lens, unblinking, his face serious in a way  that felt wrong for a boy his age. I felt a shiver creep over me. He looked  different from how I remembered—colder. His eyes seemed too aware, too focused.Then he spoke.\"Happy birthday, older me.\"I froze. My 32nd birthday was today.\"I don’t know if you’ll remember making this, but you need to listen  to me. This is important,\" the boy on the screen said. \"I had a dream last night.  I think it was more than a dream, though. It felt real. I... I saw you,  twenty years from now, on your birthday. And I saw something bad happen. Something really bad.\"I swallowed, leaning forward, my palms sweating. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the screen.\"I know you probably think this is some prank or a joke,\" the kid continued, \"but it’s not.  You need to follow the rules. All six of them. If you don’t, you won’t make it to tomorrow.\"The words hung in the air, thick with dread. The boy’s gaze seemed  to pierce through the screen, locking onto me.\"Rule one: Don’t leave your house tonight. No matter what happens,  stay inside. Don’t go outside for anything. Not even for a second.\"I felt a lump form in my throat. There was no way I could have made this up  at twelve years old. But I didn’t remember any of it—none of this seemed familiar. It  wasn’t like some old memory being jogged by a photo. It was... different. Wrong.\"Rule two: At exactly 9:13 p.m., someone’s going to knock on your door. Don’t answer  it. Don’t even look at the door. Just ignore it, no matter how many times they knock.\"I checked the clock. It was already 8:45 p.m. My mouth went dry.\"Rule three: At 9:30, the lights are going to flicker. When that happens, go to your bedroom  and stay there until midnight. Do not come out, no matter what you hear. Not until midnight.\"I felt a cold sweat break across my forehead. The boy’s voice never wavered, as if he was completely  certain of what he was saying. My pulse quickened, and I forced myself to listen, but my brain was  screaming for me to turn the TV off and throw the tape away. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.\"Rule four,\" the boy said. \"If you hear a voice calling your name—any voice,  even someone you know—ignore it. Don’t talk to it, don’t go looking for it. Just stay where you are.\"The room felt colder. My fingers hovered over the remote, but I couldn’t stop watching.  Every word seemed to pull me deeper into something I didn’t understand.\"Rule five: At exactly 11:07 p.m., you’re going to hear something break in the kitchen.  Don’t check on it. Don’t even go near it. It’s going to try to get you to come out. Don’t.\"I couldn’t take it anymore. I paused the tape, the screen freezing on my younger  self’s eerily serious face. My hands were trembling. None of this made sense. How  could I have recorded something like this and not remember it? More importantly,  how could a twelve-year-old version of me know what would happen on my 32nd birthday?I stood up and paced the living room, glancing at the clock again. 8:52 p.m.  Every minute that ticked by felt like a countdown, and a small part of me—against  all logic—believed the tape. I shook my head, trying to shake off the growing anxiety.But then I heard it.A soft knock on the front door.My heart skipped a beat. I whipped around, staring at the door. It was  too early. The kid had said 9:13. There was no way this could be happening yet.Another knock, louder this time.I swallowed hard. It’s just a coincidence,  I told myself. Someone probably got the wrong house, or maybe it was a package delivery.  That’s all. The knocks weren’t a warning. But I didn’t move. I didn’t dare answer it.The knocking stopped after a few seconds, leaving me in silence. I waited for a full  minute, listening to the quiet house, my nerves frayed. Nothing else came. Slowly,  I sat back down and pressed play on the tape.My younger self hadn’t moved an inch on the screen, but now he was staring harder,  like he knew what just happened.\"Rule six,\" the boy said. His voice was still steady, but there was something  behind it now. Fear. \"At midnight, you have to destroy this tape. Burn it, break it,  I don’t care. But don’t watch it again. If you do, it’ll know you’re still here.\"I leaned forward, my breath shallow. It’ll know you’re still here? What the hell did that mean?The boy leaned in closer to the camera, his eyes wide,  pupils dilated as if he was seeing something terrifying just out of view.\"Please, older me... just do what  I said,\" he whispered, his voice shaking now. \"I don’t want to die.\"The screen went black.I sat there, staring at the darkened TV, my mind racing. I felt like I’d just stepped  into a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. Every instinct screamed at me that this was  all some elaborate trick, that there was no way a twelve-year-old version of myself had  recorded something like this. But the way the kid spoke... the way he looked at me... it felt real.I checked the time again. 9:08 p.m. The knocks weren’t supposed to come  for another five minutes, but now I was terrified they might come sooner.  My entire body tensed as I stood up, pacing in front of the door.Maybe this was a prank. Maybe it wasn’t. But I couldn’t shake the sense of dread clinging to me.  It was like a weight pressing down on my chest, suffocating any rational thought I had left.And then, at exactly 9:13 p.m., the knocking started again.This time, it was slow. Deliberate. Three knocks. I froze in place, staring at the door,  heart pounding in my ears. My mind flashed back to the tape—don’t answer it. Don’t even  look at the door—and I forced myself to move away. I backed up until I was  pressed against the far wall, staring at the door like it might burst open any second.The knocking continued. Steady. Insistent.I clenched my fists, every muscle in my body screaming at me to run, to hide, to  do something. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. The knocks kept coming, louder now. Four. Five. Six.And then they stopped.Silence.For a long moment, I stood there, too afraid to even breathe. I didn’t know what I’d expected to  happen, but the silence felt worse than the knocking. I waited, heart racing,  but no other sounds followed. No footsteps, no voices. Nothing.I glanced at the clock again. 9:15 p.m.I had fifteen minutes before the lights were supposed to flicker. I didn’t want  to believe it, but something deep inside told me that the  boy on the tape hadn’t been lying. I needed to get to my bedroom. Now.I bolted up the stairs, two at a time, slamming the bedroom door behind me. My  breath came in short, ragged bursts as I leaned against the door, listening.  The house was silent. Too silent. I glanced around the room, feeling a strange sense  of déjà vu. The same layout, the same bed, the same dresser. It was like stepping back in time.I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the clock. 9:29 p.m.I waited. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy. And then, right on cue,  the lights flickered.Just once, for barely a second.The lights flickered again—longer this time. I stared at the bulb overhead,  heart hammering. It was a normal flicker, the kind you'd see if the  power was unsteady or during a storm. But there was no storm. The weather was calm,  the night clear. That fact alone made it worse. It felt deliberate.The third flicker wasn’t like the others. The room plunged into darkness for a solid  ten seconds. I held my breath, straining to hear any sound, any sign of movement. Then,  the lights snapped back on, and I almost jumped out of my skin.There was someone standing in the corner of the room.I didn’t see them at first, just a shape, tall and unnaturally still. The second my eyes focused,  I froze. It wasn’t human. It couldn’t be. It’s neck was so bent… It stood perfectly still,  its face—if it had one—obscured by the dim lighting, but I could feel its gaze fixed on me.For a long, paralyzing moment,  I couldn’t move. I was locked in place, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. This  thing—whatever it was—wasn’t supposed to be here. The tape hadn’t warned me about this.I forced myself to blink, hoping it would vanish, that my eyes were playing tricks  on me in the flickering light. But when I opened them, it had moved. Not a lot,  but closer. I could see its legs now—elongated, bent in ways human legs shouldn’t bend. The thing  didn’t shuffle or step. It was just there, closer than it had been a second before.I stumbled back, nearly tripping over my bed. I could feel panic rising in my throat like bile.  My eyes darted to the clock—9:32 p.m. I still had hours to go before midnight. I couldn’t stay in  here with this thing, but I couldn’t leave either. The boy on the tape had been clear about that.I looked back at the figure. It had shifted again, now halfway across the room. The  way it moved—it was as if time itself bent around it, like it existed in its own space,  unaffected by normal laws of movement. One second it was far, the next it was closer.I wanted to scream, but my throat felt like it had closed up, paralyzed by the suffocating fear.  My hands clenched into fists as if that would do anything to protect me from it. But what could I  even do? This thing wasn’t... it wasn’t right.The lights flickered once more, and this time the  figure was gone. Just gone. The relief was instantaneous, but too short-lived.The door to the hallway slammed shut with a deafening bang.I spun around, staring at the door. My hand reached for the knob instinctively,  but I stopped myself just inches from touching it. My younger self’s voice  echoed in my mind—don’t come out, no matter what you hear.A heavy thump came from the other side of the door, like something huge had just  thrown itself against it. My breath hitched, and I took a step back. The doorknob rattled,  turning slightly as if someone—no, something—was trying to open it from the other side.The air in the room felt thick, oppressive. Every instinct screamed at me to run,  to escape. But I couldn’t. I had to stay here until midnight.Another thud shook the door, harder this time. The wood groaned under the force,  and I swore I could hear the faint scrape of nails—or  claws—against it. I backed further into the room, my eyes flicking to the windows. But they were  too small to climb through, and even if I could, I had no idea what was waiting for me outside.I looked at the clock again. 9:40 p.m. Time was crawling.The door rattled again, harder this time, like something was furiously trying to  break it down. My eyes darted around the room, looking for anything I could use as a  weapon. But what good would a weapon do against something like that? I hadn’t  even seen what was on the other side, and the thought of finding out nearly made me sick.Suddenly, the noises stopped.Silence.I stood there, frozen, my ears straining to hear anything. For a few moments,  there was nothing. No scraping, no thudding, no rattling.Then, I heard it. A voice.“Open the door honey.”It was barely audible. But I recognized it instantly.My mother’s voice.The same mother who had died ten years ago.“Please, honey. It’s okay. Open the door I’ll help you..”The sound of her voice was like a knife in my chest, sharp and painful. For a split second,  I almost believed it. Almost. But then the memory of the tape came rushing back.If you hear a voice calling your name—any voice,  even someone you know—ignore it. Don’t talk to it, don’t go looking for it.I clenched my fists, my body trembling. The voice on the other side of the door was soft,  pleading, just like I remembered. But there was something off about it. A subtle distortion,  like it had been stretched too thin, too strained.“Please,” the voice repeated, more insistent now. “I need you to open the door. I need to see you.”I backed up until I hit the far wall, pressing my palms against the cold surface, trying to  ground myself in the reality of my surroundings. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the voice to stop.But it didn’t.It kept going, the words growing more desperate, more  twisted. The voice that had once brought me comfort now filled me with dread.  My mother’s sweet tone warped, becoming guttural, barely human.“You can’t hide from me forever,” it rasped,  the words scraping through the air like metal on bone. “I’ll find you. I’ll get in.”I clamped my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sound. But it was inside my head now,  crawling through my brain like a living thing. I pressed harder,  gritting my teeth, tears stinging my eyes.And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the voice stopped.I opened my eyes, my body shaking. The silence felt worse than the noise. I stood there for  what felt like hours, waiting for the next sound, the next sign that something was coming for me.But nothing came.I glanced at the clock—10:15 p.m. It had barely been an hour since the knocking started,  and I had almost lost my mind. How was I supposed to survive another two hours of this?I slumped to the floor, my back against the wall, trying to calm my breathing.  The house was still, too still, like it was holding its breath along with me.That’s when I heard it—the sound of footsteps.Not from the hallway this time. They were coming from inside my room.I shot to my feet, heart hammering in my chest as I whipped around to  face the source of the noise. The figure was back, standing in the corner again,  but now it was closer—too close. Its form was clearer now, and my stomach churned at the sight.The thing had no face. Where there should’ve been eyes, a nose, a mouth—there was nothing. Just  smooth, featureless skin stretched tight over its skull. Its neck was still bent at that horrible,  unnatural angle, and its body twitched, like it was struggling to hold itself upright.And it was staring at me. I couldn’t explain how I knew,  but I could feel it watching me, studying me, like it was waiting for something.For what felt like an eternity, we stood there, neither of us moving. My brain screamed at me to  run, to hide, to do something, but I couldn’t. I was paralyzed, trapped in the creature’s gaze.Then, it took a step toward me.“Stay back!” I said, my voice shaking.The thing didn’t stop. It didn’t even slow down. It  kept coming, its faceless head tilted toward me.I grabbed the nearest object I could find—a lamp—and swung it as hard as  I could. The lamp shattered against the thing’s body, but it didn’t react. It just kept coming.I backed up until I hit the wall, nowhere left to go. The thing was  inches away now, its head tilting down toward mine, that blank face inches from  my own. I could feel its breath—hot and foul—on my skin, though it had no mouth.And then it spoke.“Happy birthday.”The lights flickered again, and the figure vanished.I collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath, clutching my arm where the thing had touched  me. The skin was ice-cold, but unmarked. No burns, no cuts. But I could still feel itFor a few moments, I couldn’t do anything but breathe, trying to convince myself it was over,  that it wasn’t coming back. The clock on my nightstand read 10:25 p.m.There was no way I could last another hour and a half of this.But I didn’t have a choice. I had to survive. The kid on the tape—me—had given me the rules. All I  had to do was follow them. The next one would come at 11:07 p.m.—the sound in the kitchen.  I had to hold on until then.Forcing myself to my feet, I stumbled over to the door and pressed my ear against it.  The house was silent now. No more knocks. No more voices. But the silence felt wrong. It  was the kind of silence you find in a place where something is waiting.I backed away from the door, choosing to sit on the bed instead. The faceless  figure wasn’t here anymore, at least not for now,  but the oppressive feeling still hung in the air. I had no idea what else was coming,  but I had to be ready for it. I checked the clock again—10:40 p.m. Time moved so slowly.I kept my eyes fixed on the bedroom door, my muscles tensed,  ready for whatever might come next. I didn’t dare let myself relax. Not even for a second.Finally, the minute hand inched toward 11:07. My  breath caught in my throat, and I sat up straight, bracing myself. The boy on the  tape had said something would break in the kitchen. That it would try to lure me out.Right on time, the sound came.A loud crash, like dishes shattering. It was so sharp, so sudden, that I nearly bolted off the bed  before I remembered the warning. I froze, hands clenched into fists, willing myself not to move.Don���t check on it. Don’t even go near it.For several minutes, I just sat there, listening to the noise.  More crashes followed. Pots and pans, the distinct sound of glass shattering.  The kitchen must have been a wreck by now. And then came the voice.“Hey man I know you’re in there, come ooon lemme me in, huh?.”It sounded like my friend Jim from high school,  someone I hadn’t thought about for years. But it was off, just like my mother’s voice  had been earlier. There was something underneath the tone—something hollow, hungry.“Come on,man… been a long time. I’m dead now you know. But it’s alright come on out. Everybody dies  you know. You’re gonna die - probably tonight. Sorry about the dishes. Let’s play videogames.  Man I have not played videogames since uh… well I guess since I been dead huh, silly me.I didn’t respond. I didn’t move. I sat perfectly still, staring at the clock.Ignore it. Don’t talk to it.“We really doing this man. Hey tell you what, you come down here, and I will save your life.  You saw it didn’t you? It was in your room wasn’t it? That’s what got me. I didn’t what it wanted,  and it kept coming back and it got me. Tell you what, you come down now, I’ll help ya.  I’ll tell you what it wants….. If you don’t… it’s gonna eat your face buddy. It ate mine.”I stared at door, and then the voice finally stopped. The crashing sounds faded away, leaving  the house in that eerie, heavy silence again. I checked the clock—11:30 p.m. Thirty more minutes.I exhaled shakily, trying to calm myself. I’d made it this far. I just had to hang on until midnight.The last half hour was torture. Every creak of the house made my skin crawl,  every tick of the clock seemed too loud, too slow.And then the figure appeared again. The lights flicked and it was just there. Right in front  of me. And this time I ran. I opened the door, bolted down the steps, but I slipped on the last  one. I rolled my ankle, bad but I kept moving. I limped into the kitchen and was looking for a  place to hide, when I felt it reach out and grab me. It’s grib ice cold. It was pulled me away. I  reached around for something, anything to hold onto, and the only thing I could grab was the  refrigerator door. I grabbed onto it and it pulled open. The thing was grabbing me hard now, and my  grib was just about to slip… when it stopped.I fell backwards towards the fridge and looked  back at the thing. It wasn’t staring at me anymore, it was looking into the fridge. I  followed it’s gaze. There was plate of pasta, a gallon of milk, some old tunafish, and a leftover  piece of strawberry birthday cake from this afternoon. My work had thrown me a birthday party.The creature stood perfectly still, like it was frozen in time,  it’s eyeless face tilted right towards the cake.And I took a guess. What else could I do? I reached into the fridge, pulled out the  plate of cake, and extended my hand towards the thing. We stayed like that for a moment, and  then the creature reached out with a long, bony limb, and gently took the plate from my hands.I just watched, in a mix of shock and horror and  confusion as the thing scooped a pile of cake onto it’s left hand,  and smeared it all over it’s face. It didn’t have a mouth, but it seemed to be enjoying it anyway.“Caaaaaaaaaaaaake,” the thing said.And then the lights flickered… and it was gone.I looked over at the clock. Exactly midnight. 1I waited, holding my breath, expecting something else to happen. But nothing did.  The house remained still, the air heavy with the sense that I had just passed some terrible test.I exhaled a long, shaky breath. I’d done it. I’d  survived. The rules had been followed, every single one.I collapsed back on the bed, my entire body shaking with exhaustion and  relief. It was over. I’d survived my 32nd birthday. I glanced at the clock again,  watching as it ticked over to 12:01. A new day. I was safe.The weight that had been pressing on my chest finally lifted. I felt like I could breathe  again. I sat up, rubbing my face, my mind racing with everything that had happened.  None of it made sense, but I couldn’t deny what I had seen. The faceless figure,  the voice at the door, the thing that had called itself my mother. It had all been real.  And I’d followed the rules, just like the kid on the tape had told me to.I laughed, a dry, bitter sound, more out of disbelief than anything else. I had survived,  sure, but barely. What the hell had all that been about? And why had I—my younger self—known  it would happen? There were no answers, just more questions. But at least I was alive.I stood up, my legs shaky but functional, and I looked around. The house was a mess.  Dishes lay shattered in the kitchen, chairs overturned, the cupboards flung open as if  something had been searching through them. But I didn’t care. It was over.The last thing the boy on the tape had said echoed in my mind—At midnight,  you have to destroy the tape. Burn it, break it, I don’t care. Just don’t watch it again.I turned to the living room, where the TV was still on,  the static hissing softly from the old VCR. The tape. I needed to get rid of  it. The kid had been right about everything else—there was no reason to doubt him now.I pulled the tape from the VCR, my hands trembling as I carried it outside. There  was an old fire pit in the backyard, and I threw the tape in without hesitation.  It landed with a dull thud, and I grabbed a box of matches from the  porch. My hands were still shaking as I struck one and tossed it into the pit.The flames caught quickly, licking up the sides of the tape. I watched as the plastic began  to warp and melt, the tape inside curling and bubbling in the heat. I stayed there,  watching until it was nothing more than a pile of smoldering black goo.It was over. Finally.I went back inside, shutting and locking the door behind me, still half-expecting  to hear more knocks, more voices. But there was only silence. Real silence this time,  not the oppressive kind that had filled the house earlier. I sat down on the couch,  burying my face in my hands, exhaustion crashing over me like a wave.I was about to lie down, to let the relief wash over me completely,  when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Another box.It was sitting on the floor near the stairs. The same box I’d found the first tape in.I felt a cold knot form in my stomach as I stood up, slowly walking over to it. I knew what I was  going to find before I even opened the box. But I opened it anyway, hoping—praying—I was wrong.Inside the box, sitting right on top of the other junk, was another VHS tape.My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the tape, bile rising in my stomach. It was  the same—black, unmarked, identical to the one I had just destroyed. My  hands shook as I reached for it, but I stopped myself, pulling back as if  the tape was covered in poison. I didn’t want to touch it. I didn’t want to know.But I had to.I grabbed the tape, my fingers trembling as I slid it into the VCR. The screen flickered,  and after a few seconds of static, the image appeared.It was me again. The same twelve-year-old version of me, sitting on the floor in that same room.He looked at the camera, his face even more serious than before.“Hi, older me,” the boy said, his voice quieter this time. “You made it. I’m glad.”He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer to the camera.“But this isn’t over.”My heart sank.“You need to follow the new rules,” the boy continued, his voice low and cold. “This time,  it’s not just one night. It’s the whole year.”The screen went black.I stood there, frozen, the weight of the boy’s words sinking in like lead. I felt  like the walls were closing in, the air thickening around me again, suffocating me.The whole year.Oh my God another year. I had to survive this shit for another year.\n"