My mother recently passed away. It didn’t come as a shock – she was in the late throes of dementia; her outlook a few weeks at most when the doctor gave his final prognosis. I stood to inherit the house that I grew up in – my childhood home.
After all the legal proceedings and paperwork, I was handed the keys on a Tuesday afternoon. I took the short drive across town and into the suburbs. Passing by all the new developments made me feel uneasy - something about the symmetrical designs, the plain patterns and the perfectly manicured lawns didn’t suit the neighbourhood. I brushed off the feeling and continued towards the cul-de-sac where I grew up. Pushing the key into the lock, I heard the familiar sound of the deadbolt disengaging out of sight.
It was filled to the brim with memories – and the musty smell of dust – accumulated on every surface. I spent the rest of the week cleaning from top to bottom. In a way, it was cathartic – clearing away the years of idle neglect. It wasn’t my mother’s fault. She just forgot to clean, and most days (especially towards the end) she could barely leave her room. As I was clearing the loft, I found a box of old tapes, each labelled with a specific date. The oldest of the tapes would have been from when I was around five, and the majority were from my teenage years – when the technology of handheld cameras was a lot more affordable to the common folk – especially a single mother.
I don’t remember much of my childhood. Many of the memories I do have are of neglect and abuse from my father. I don’t even remember him leaving, just waking up one morning in December to find out he was gone. I was exuberant at the thought of watching these old videos and seeing the brighter side to my lonely adolescence.
Luckily, whilst clearing out the loft, I found a VHS player, which would allow me to watch the videos. I didn’t fancy spending a stupid amount of money on a restored or ‘vintage’ one on Amazon. I waited until later that evening to watch the contents.
10-09-1997
“Alexa, dim lights,” I called. The living room bulbs faded and left me sitting in a warm orange glow. I didn’t waste any time changing all the existing bulbs for smart ones. The TV flickered with a slight static and there I was. Sat in the very same living room as I am now, except I was five – and playing with a large dollhouse. My mother called my name and I turned to her and smiled. I had already lost my first tooth by this point and I couldn’t be prouder of the gap in my front gnashers. In the background, I saw a black curtain. Not a set, just the one. Now, like I said, I don’t remember too much of my childhood, but I definitely don’t remember mother having black curtains, let alone just the one. She was a more ‘floral and decoratively ornate’ kind of lady. I brushed it off and continued to watch myself play with my new birthday present. After the video ended and VHS player spat out the old tape, I was feeling slightly anxious about that black curtain still.
“Alexa, goodnight,” I said.
The lights turned off and I was bathed in darkness. I took a quick glance over my shoulder towards the window, and to my relief, both curtains were still the same flowery pattern they had always been. I’ll replace them soon, I thought to myself.
After I finished work the following day, I made my home, quickly stopping off at the local home and hardware store. I bought the first set of cheap curtains I could find that would fit the gap in my living room. I didn’t have any plans on the purchase, but I just felt the urge to do it – there and then. When I arrived back home, I grabbed the tool box and rummaged around for a screwdriver. I took the rod from the wall and replaced it with the new one, carefully sliding each ringlet onto the pole. After a almost an hour of choice swear words, the final clip that help the fabric to the ringlets was in place. I sat down in front of the TV and pulled the box of tapes towards me. I went to grab the first tape that I had placed back on the top of the pile yesterday, but to my surprise, it wasn’t there. I was certain I had put it back in the box. Maybe I hadn’t? I questioned my own sanity, and in a way, I wondered if I could too have dementia. A little shaken up at the thought, I pulled out the next tape.
31-10-2004
I watched as my face appeared on the screen once more. I was dressed head to toe in black, with a frilly skirt, black pumps, and a black wig. My face was painted white and I had a small black spot on my nose, and matching black whiskers upon my cheeks. This would have been my first Halloween that mother allowed me to go trick or treating on my own. Father would never have let me go out in the evening alone, let alone during Halloween.
I was sat at the dining room table eating my dinner. I say dinner, but Mother had a tradition to allow me to have whatever I wanted for dinner on Halloween. So, being an eleven year old, I chose my favourite dessert – to have as my main course. Pumpkin Pie. A recipe I still use to this date – something my mother handed down to me were all her recipes. I made my favourite childhood dish the other week actually. The house was filled with beautifully sweet aromas – the earthy scent of cloves and nutmeg, sweet smells of cinnamon, and a subtle hint of ginger filled the kitchen as it baked. My mouth began to water at the thought, amplified with the sight of it on the TV. After finishing off my mammoth portion of pie, my mother escorted me to the end of the driveway to see me on my way. I skipped away with my empty bag, ready to fill it with chocolates and sweets galore. The video didn’t end there though. Mother turned around and began to head inside. She was fumbling with the camera, which must have been new, as she tried to figure out how to stop recording. In the background of the now sideways video, I could see that same black curtain in the living room window. It’s Halloween, it’s just a decoration… at least that’s what I wanted to believe.
Somewhere, deep within my own consciousness, I knew that wasn’t true.
I made sure to place the tape back in the box this time. Checking twice that I actually completed the task. I stood up and made my way out of the living room and up to bed.
“Alexa, goodnight,” I said, as I passed the threshold of living room to hallway. The lights faded and once again I was enveloped in darkness. I turned to peer over my shoulder, the new curtains were still the same colour as they had always been.
Now, I’m not a superstitious person, but when I discovered that yesterday’s tape was also missing, I began to feel like someone… or something, was playing tricks on me. I had checked, multiple times that it was in the box, and there’s no one else in this house apart from myself. Before watching the next video, I made another impulse purchase, on Amazon this time, for one of those home video doorbells. I felt like I’d have more peace of mind whilst at work if I could see any potential intruders. It wasn’t that I lived in an unsafe area, but something about that black curtain, and the missing tapes was really upsetting the balance of thoughts in my mind.
31-12-2007
New Years Eve. I would have been fifteen when this video was taken. I vaguely remember this night. Not because of repressed memories of my childhood, but this was the first time I got drunk. My mother, my poor mother – all that vomit. It couldn’t have been past the countdown yet, because the light fixtures were free of party popper streamers. I think my mother had realised that I had been drinking at this point, and was filming my actions to embarrass me when I was sober. Or older. One of the two. I watched on and laughed as I stumbled slightly over my own feet. Then, lurking in the background of this video, was that black curtain. Expect… I squinted and leant closer to the TV. It wasn’t a curtain, but a woman, dressed in all black walking just behind me, like a shadow. The dress she was wearing was black, and the same fabric as the curtain.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
I almost jumped fresh from my skin when the oven timer in the kitchen went off. I’d been so caught up in the video that I almost forgot that I’d set myself a Pumpkin Pie to bake. I quickly dashed to the kitchen and removed the pastry from the oven. My nostrils were assaulted with that same sweet smell that I always loved.
I went back to remove the tape from the VHS player and stopped in my tracks. The screen was blank, just a blanket of static on the screen.
“Is there someone here?!” I called. Silence. My pulse quickened and I could feel the beading of sweat building up on the back of my neck. A shiver travelled down my spine. I had a thorough search of the house, and when I was one hundred percent sure that there was no one else here, I decided against my best judgement to watch the final tape.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. DON’T WATCH THE TAPE!
I’ve watched ‘The Ring’ and countless other films, and I always do the same thing. I shout at the character to not do the exact thing I was about to do. But, just like the impulse purchase of the curtains and the doorbell, I felt like I had to watch the final video.
I pulled the last tape out and examined the label. The date seemed to be smudged, as if it had been freshly written. I couldn’t make out anything coherent and decided to put it in the tape-player anyway.
I wasn’t in this video, unlike the rest. It started at the end of the hallways, facing the door at the end. This specific door led to the basement. I very rarely ventured down there, something about it always gave me the creeps – that much I can remember from my childhood. I watched on as whoever was filming – it must have been my mother? I could hear a faint sobbing coming from beyond the basement door. As the latch was flicked and the door creaked open, the sobbing became louder. There was also the faint sound of a lady screaming in the distance. The distraught lady burst through the door and the kid cried harder. The screen went dark momentarily as the camera adjusted to the darkness of the basement. I could hear footsteps on the creaking steps, and then… Screaming. The screen came back to life and that same lady from New Year’s Eve came into focus. She looked at the sobbing girl who was curled up in a tight ball on the basement floor. She was seemingly oblivious to who I can only assume was my mother behind the camera and took whatever blunt object she was wielding and bludgeoned the child. The crying ceased after the first hit. The lady, who turned out to be my mother, gasped as she realised what she had done. A violent scream erupted from her mouth. It was guttural and heart wrenching. I couldn’t watch any longer. This couldn’t be my mother. And even if it was, then who was filming? I slammed my finger onto the eject button, but the tape continued. The lady, my mother, walked beneath the dim light of the basement, revealing the same black fabric dress as the curtains. I begin to sob, trying everything I can to stop the video. I unplugged the TV from the wall, but the scene continued to unfold. In tears, I watched as my mother drew a length of coarse rope from a shelf and tied a slipknot over the rafters. She hung herself and the tape ended and spat itself out of the machine.
With trembling hands I fumbled around the living room searching for my car keys. I couldn’t stay in this house tonight. I would have to forget my Pumpkin Pie and the delicious mouth-watering memories it would bring.
When I finally found my keys, I heard the unmistakable sound of another tape being loaded into the player. It began immediately and I was glued to the spot, enthralled. The footage that began was of me, watching the first tape. My heart began to beat double time in my chest and I didn’t stay to see what would happen. I didn’t even bother to lock the door. I got in my car and drove off as fast as I could. When I was far, far away from that cursed place, I pulled over in lay-by on the side of the road. My adrenaline had worn off and my hands had finally stopped shaking. I couldn’t prevent the onslaught of tears that continuously escaped my eyes. As I sat there in the darkness, uncontrollably sobbing at the memories of my mother, which are now tainted by whatever I just witness, a passing car’s headlights illuminates my rear view mirror. I quickly went to adjust it so I wasn’t being blinded by their stupidly bright beams and that was when I saw the lady in black sitting in the back seat of the car, an ear to ear grin plastered across her face.
