The following is an account given by one Mr. George Powell in 2013, about his experience with a strange music box purchased at a Goodwill in Oregon. Recording taken by Agent [NAME REDACTED] of the VSIT.
*BEGIN RECORDING*
Right uh... I've never actually had to record anything before. Not in this kind of context anyway. Obviously not counting messages or anything.
But yeah, I guess I'll stay on topic.
I didn't actually go in there to go grab a fucking music box. Honestly, I just needed a suit. I had a court date, speeding ticket, and I figured it would help my chances. It didn't, if you're curious.
I really didn't intend at all for any of it, I was going in, then I was going out. Right into the clothing aisle, right out. But it was there. Sitting on the shoe shelf, right down the aisle. I don't know why I picked it up and looked at it, it wasn't overly remarkable.
Just a little brown wooden box, with a little wooden wind-up key. It wasn't ornate beyond a weird symbol on the top, it wasn't special, it was just a thing. I went over and picked it up. It was... heavy I guess. That's all that stood out. I popped the lid open, expecting to see something, but it was just an empty box.
I turned the key, and it worked well enough. I can't place the song it played though. I'm hard pressed to even hum it. It wasn't the typical classical tune, it wasn't the Nutcracker or Swan Princess or whatever they all play, but it was cool, I guess.
I only picked it up because of the price tag. All it read was "Dead Box", and it cost three dollars. I thought that sounded metal as hell, and I could show it around, you feel me? I was already going to blow like, twenty on the suit so like, fuck it, right?
Well, I took it home. Of course it didn't work the second I tried it there. Turned the key, nothing happened. Opened it, nothing. Turned the key WHILE opening it, take a wild guess.
I wasn't going to throw it out, I'm not wasteful or anything. I was just kind of... pissed off. Rightfully so, probably. Still, I wish I HAD thrown it out then and there, probably would have solved a lot of problems.
Either way, I threw it on my bedside table, and I left it there. Occasionally threw stuff in, but it wasn't a big deal. Until I figured out the secret. It did do something, although I never got it to play that song again, a shame I'll admit.
All I did was try the key again. Spun it a couple times while my camera was in there, then opened it.
My camera was still there, of course. Didn't really play with it, or even care much until I popped open the gallery a couple hours.
There were five new pictures. Three selfies, some weird picture of the sidewalk that must have been an accident, and a picture of a price tag for gin of all things. Weird, but... I figured it was a glitch or something. Maybe I took them a while ago and the metadata got fucked up somehow?
Around two weeks later, I was at the store and hey, gin was looking pretty cheap. A closer store did a price match, so I snapped a picture of the tag and I froze right then and fucking there. It was the same picture. I don't mean it was SIMILAR, I mean it was the fucking SAME.
So that got me thinking, SHIT this thing is like... fucking magic, right? It must have been the box. Had to be. I did a few more experiments, mostly with shit like food, once actually I threw my phone in there to see the effects on the calendar. Fucking hell, it actually worked, every time. I worked out the real secret, it's one spin per week, you see. Crank the key once, a week passed for everything inside. Crank it twice, etc.
The real kicker was that everything inside acted like it WASN'T in the box for that time. Stuff updated, calls were missed, the pictures, etc.
I had a lot of fun with that, just messing around for a couple days.
Things started to get weird though. When the stuff actually happened, especially with my phone, getting calls that it said I missed while it was in the box, etc. I worried about paradoxes and shit, but it never really became relevant at all. I'm not sure how it worked, it just did.
It only got bad when I threw my phone in a couple weeks ago. Cranked it four times, one month. When I cracked open the box, the thing was just fucking *coated* in blood. I felt like throwing up. I was confused, I was fucking spooked, for lack of a better word. What the hell? I looked at the box, turned it around, wondered if there was some kind of hidden compartment but no, it was just bloody.
I cleaned off my phone, but I avoided using the box for a while after that. Thing is, knowing how the box worked, it WOULD eventually get that way, and I didn't want to think about that.
Couple days later though, I started trying other things, setting them to the same "date". The blood didn't affect my wallet, or my car keys, both of which I kept downstairs, but my folded pillowcase... Well, yeah. Wasn't so lucky.
So there I was, fucking mortified the entire time. Some weird blood shit was going down in my room. I avoided that room for a couple days after that, didn't touch the box, slept on the couch. I started testing stuff with the box eventually though, trying to pinpoint an actual date when it would happen.
Exactly one month from when the first bloody thing came back. The most disquieting part was just how much there WAS. A scrap of bedsheet, a scrap of my fucking curtain, my lampshade, all of it was just soaked.
It was fine though. I had an idea. Set up a camera in my bedroom for a couple nights. I wasn't sure if the box required things to be... established or not before it would age it "correctly". My phone aged in the intended way, and everything happened, but that's because it was already my phone, I was going to use it, so the stuff happened.
I threw the camera in the box, and turned the key just enough times.
I will not discuss what was on that video. I burned that fucking thing the next night, smashed the camera too.
I don't know if I can escape what this thing calls fate, but I'm going to try. At least now, someone out there will have a permanent record of what happened, in case I don't succeed.
*END RECORDING*
Now, this account is a rather odd one, I must say. "Burning the object" is a rather common excuse for not having any evidence of one's experience, and thrift shops are rather notable for their tendency to show up as the peddler of arcane goods.
Although, one as mundane as Goodwill does strike me as being a little out of place in a tall tale.
The only thing that backs up this story in any way, is a thing that does so rather heavily, and makes me inclined to believe in the tale Mr. Powell provided. Only a few weeks after this account was given, Mr. Powell was found dead in the bedroom of his home, in a rather... dire state. I am sure I do not need to give elaboration on that.
This however, is despite witnesses across the country swearing up and down that they saw him mere hours before his time of death. This is of course, an impossibility, but the implications are chilling to be sure.
Now the real question that remains, is the symbol he mentioned adorning the top. No real description was given, unfortunately, but it would certainly be useful in identifying... similar objects.
I suppose I'll look into it.
*BEGIN RECORDING*
Right uh... I've never actually had to record anything before. Not in this kind of context anyway. Obviously not counting messages or anything.
But yeah, I guess I'll stay on topic.
I didn't actually go in there to go grab a fucking music box. Honestly, I just needed a suit. I had a court date, speeding ticket, and I figured it would help my chances. It didn't, if you're curious.
I really didn't intend at all for any of it, I was going in, then I was going out. Right into the clothing aisle, right out. But it was there. Sitting on the shoe shelf, right down the aisle. I don't know why I picked it up and looked at it, it wasn't overly remarkable.
Just a little brown wooden box, with a little wooden wind-up key. It wasn't ornate beyond a weird symbol on the top, it wasn't special, it was just a thing. I went over and picked it up. It was... heavy I guess. That's all that stood out. I popped the lid open, expecting to see something, but it was just an empty box.
I turned the key, and it worked well enough. I can't place the song it played though. I'm hard pressed to even hum it. It wasn't the typical classical tune, it wasn't the Nutcracker or Swan Princess or whatever they all play, but it was cool, I guess.
I only picked it up because of the price tag. All it read was "Dead Box", and it cost three dollars. I thought that sounded metal as hell, and I could show it around, you feel me? I was already going to blow like, twenty on the suit so like, fuck it, right?
Well, I took it home. Of course it didn't work the second I tried it there. Turned the key, nothing happened. Opened it, nothing. Turned the key WHILE opening it, take a wild guess.
I wasn't going to throw it out, I'm not wasteful or anything. I was just kind of... pissed off. Rightfully so, probably. Still, I wish I HAD thrown it out then and there, probably would have solved a lot of problems.
Either way, I threw it on my bedside table, and I left it there. Occasionally threw stuff in, but it wasn't a big deal. Until I figured out the secret. It did do something, although I never got it to play that song again, a shame I'll admit.
All I did was try the key again. Spun it a couple times while my camera was in there, then opened it.
My camera was still there, of course. Didn't really play with it, or even care much until I popped open the gallery a couple hours.
There were five new pictures. Three selfies, some weird picture of the sidewalk that must have been an accident, and a picture of a price tag for gin of all things. Weird, but... I figured it was a glitch or something. Maybe I took them a while ago and the metadata got fucked up somehow?
Around two weeks later, I was at the store and hey, gin was looking pretty cheap. A closer store did a price match, so I snapped a picture of the tag and I froze right then and fucking there. It was the same picture. I don't mean it was SIMILAR, I mean it was the fucking SAME.
So that got me thinking, SHIT this thing is like... fucking magic, right? It must have been the box. Had to be. I did a few more experiments, mostly with shit like food, once actually I threw my phone in there to see the effects on the calendar. Fucking hell, it actually worked, every time. I worked out the real secret, it's one spin per week, you see. Crank the key once, a week passed for everything inside. Crank it twice, etc.
The real kicker was that everything inside acted like it WASN'T in the box for that time. Stuff updated, calls were missed, the pictures, etc.
I had a lot of fun with that, just messing around for a couple days.
Things started to get weird though. When the stuff actually happened, especially with my phone, getting calls that it said I missed while it was in the box, etc. I worried about paradoxes and shit, but it never really became relevant at all. I'm not sure how it worked, it just did.
It only got bad when I threw my phone in a couple weeks ago. Cranked it four times, one month. When I cracked open the box, the thing was just fucking *coated* in blood. I felt like throwing up. I was confused, I was fucking spooked, for lack of a better word. What the hell? I looked at the box, turned it around, wondered if there was some kind of hidden compartment but no, it was just bloody.
I cleaned off my phone, but I avoided using the box for a while after that. Thing is, knowing how the box worked, it WOULD eventually get that way, and I didn't want to think about that.
Couple days later though, I started trying other things, setting them to the same "date". The blood didn't affect my wallet, or my car keys, both of which I kept downstairs, but my folded pillowcase... Well, yeah. Wasn't so lucky.
So there I was, fucking mortified the entire time. Some weird blood shit was going down in my room. I avoided that room for a couple days after that, didn't touch the box, slept on the couch. I started testing stuff with the box eventually though, trying to pinpoint an actual date when it would happen.
Exactly one month from when the first bloody thing came back. The most disquieting part was just how much there WAS. A scrap of bedsheet, a scrap of my fucking curtain, my lampshade, all of it was just soaked.
It was fine though. I had an idea. Set up a camera in my bedroom for a couple nights. I wasn't sure if the box required things to be... established or not before it would age it "correctly". My phone aged in the intended way, and everything happened, but that's because it was already my phone, I was going to use it, so the stuff happened.
I threw the camera in the box, and turned the key just enough times.
I will not discuss what was on that video. I burned that fucking thing the next night, smashed the camera too.
I don't know if I can escape what this thing calls fate, but I'm going to try. At least now, someone out there will have a permanent record of what happened, in case I don't succeed.
*END RECORDING*
Now, this account is a rather odd one, I must say. "Burning the object" is a rather common excuse for not having any evidence of one's experience, and thrift shops are rather notable for their tendency to show up as the peddler of arcane goods.
Although, one as mundane as Goodwill does strike me as being a little out of place in a tall tale.
The only thing that backs up this story in any way, is a thing that does so rather heavily, and makes me inclined to believe in the tale Mr. Powell provided. Only a few weeks after this account was given, Mr. Powell was found dead in the bedroom of his home, in a rather... dire state. I am sure I do not need to give elaboration on that.
This however, is despite witnesses across the country swearing up and down that they saw him mere hours before his time of death. This is of course, an impossibility, but the implications are chilling to be sure.
Now the real question that remains, is the symbol he mentioned adorning the top. No real description was given, unfortunately, but it would certainly be useful in identifying... similar objects.
I suppose I'll look into it.
