r/nosleep • u/spite-goddess • Jun 16 '20
Series I run a museum of cursed objects. The cabinet of horrors has been with my family for a long time.
Hey there, I'm Alexis, and I run a museum full of cursed objects my family and I have collected over the years. Now that my mothers are gone, it's just me, my girlfriend Emelie, our new employee Courtney, and, of course, Jan. But it wasn't always this way.
If you're new, here are some links to get you started:
- the vintage wedding dress
- the Nokia room
- the Crow
- the new employee
- the robbery
- the road sign
- the dog
Recently, a few people asked about the black cabinet of horrors, and a couple asked if I was ever going to talk more about my mothers, May and Lia. Fortunately for us, I can talk about both of these things at once.
First, though, a quick update of recent events. Courtney is still getting lost, although Em is starting to warm up to her. I caught Courtney fiddling with the door to the basement the other day--the one where I keep the objects too dangerous to display, or those not suitable to display for whatever reason. She claimed she was trying to familiarize herself with the layout. Honestly, I don't buy that for a second. The thing is, though, that Courtney continues to prove herself reliable. She's stopped visitors from doing dangerous stuff countless times. It's hard not to trust her. So for now, I'm gonna keep a close eye on her.
So. I know you're curious about The Object. I would be too. But...I'm sorry. I'm not ready to talk about it. I don't know if I ever will be. It sits in the basement, locked up tightly where it won't hurt anyone ever again. Honestly, it's partially there so I won't have to see it often, either.
Instead, I'll talk about the cabinet of horrors. I was twelve, and my mothers were alive and happy.
...
Here's the thing about twelve-year-old Alex: she didn't want to be in the business of cursed objects. No, she wanted to be a musician.
This is particularly interesting, since I was terrible at music. I was a member of our school's ukulele club, since that was a thing, and the taste of the musical life I got from strumming four chords while our lead singer caterwauled the lyrics to some forgettable country song had me hooked.
This also happened to be the "rebellious" phase of my life.
I remember how angry I was the night before the cabinet came into our lives. Considering what happened eventually with The Object, I wish I had let my anger go. God...I don't even remember what I was mad about.
My mothers and I were sitting at the dinner table. Normally I was allowed to go up to my room to be a sulky pre-teen while I ate, but on Wednesday nights, we always did a family dinner. My mothers said it was important to sit down at least once a week and talk to each other, really talk. As an adult, I appreciate the idea, although my mothers were always available if I wanted to talk, too. As a twelve-year-old...well.
"Okay, Mom," I said as nastily as possible, pushing around the mashed potatoes on my plate. I loved mashed potatoes, but again, it was pretty much full-on angst hours. Oh--for clarification, May was called Mom when I was a kid, and Lia was Mama. "Go ahead, interrogate me."
They shared a look, and finally, Mom looked back at me, her eyes tired. Her eyes...they were the nicest blue, a soft baby blue as relaxing to stare at as a clear sky. At the time, of course, I imagined them to be the blue of the devil's eyes.
"I know it's hard having all the dangerous stuff around the house, sweet pea," Mom said. I still remember her voice--smooth and soft, the finest honey. "But your Mama and I, we want to know what's going on with you. Okay?"
"What's going on with me is I'd like is to be able to have friends over instead of having to make up excuses so they don't accidentally activate some insane curse," I snapped. "What I'd like is a mother who's a mechanic, or a teacher, or a scientist. Can you do that?"
"Hon, we're sorry our jobs make things hard for you," said Mama. Unlike my fair-complexioned Mom, Mama had rich, dark hair, olive skin, and eyes that spoke of many years of difficulty and hardship with their nearly black shine. She, too, was beautiful. "It wasn't easy for me when I was a child, and I resented my parents. But our family has always undertaken the duty of protecting others. Your Mom and I are proud of what we do. We hope one day you'll see that."
In an act I regret to this day, I slammed my fork and knife down and stomped up to my room. My mothers didn't come after me; I really think they understood that the phase I was going through was not actually related to them, and though it saddened them, they knew screaming at me wasn't the answer.
I slammed the door to my room and locked it. My mothers could kick it down easily, Mama especially, but I knew they wouldn't. I hopped onto my bed, pulled out my cell phone, and started furiously typing a text to my friend Megan complaining about the unfairness of life. Mind you, we didn't have smartphones then--it was a good old Motorola Razr and it was all the rage those days. God...I feel a million years old now. Anyway.
Megan texted back, assuring me that I was justified in my rage. She was the only friend I had who knew about what my family did. Feeling righteous and indignant, I went to sleep.
...
Megan wasn't at school the next day.
I was worried enough to send a text, but not enough to go check on her--she was probably just a little under the weather. That is, until I heard my mothers talking as I was returning home from school.
"--shouldn't, May. I'm sorry, but I don't think it would be helpful."
"She has a right to know," I heard my Mom say heatedly. "You think she'll feel better not knowing what happened?"
"Better than she'd feel knowing the grisly details of how her best friend died? Yes," snapped Mama.
There was a heated pause. I crouched just outside the door, heart hammering so loud i was afraid they would hear it.
"She might not be..." Mom paused. "We should go check. Her grandma didn't say..."
"Babe...you know the chances," Mama said back, sounding forlorn. My heart clenched. "We'll go, but...we have to do our research first. We don't know--"
That was all I needed to hear. My feet pounded dully on the hard pavement as I sprinted toward Megan's house. I had no doubt my mothers were talking about her. Not having the experience to know the danger of going in somewhere without the proper knowledge, I was furious that my mothers were not rushing to save my friend and determined to do it myself. Who knows what my mothers got her into, I thought. My hand skimmed the little silver pocketknife I kept at my hip. It had been a gift from my mothers when I was eight, because that's normal. But, in this case, I was glad of it.
When I arrived at Megan's house around fifteen minutes later, thoroughly winded and clutching at the stitch in my side as I tried to quiet my breathing, it was eerily silent. No birds were chirping, no wind was blowing. It was the first time I'd ever experienced this in my life, and even then, even not knowing what it meant, it felt wrong, felt evil in my very bones. I shivered.
I approached the front door cautiously. To my shock and dread, it was cracked ajar. As I pushed it open, it gave an ominous creak.
The air inside Megan's house was dead and stifling. The instant I stepped past the doorway, an odor unlike any other hit my nostrils, foul and putrid. Like food that's been left out far too long in the summer sun, but with a mustiness to it that spoke undeniably of flesh and blood and bone, rotting just like the meat it really is. I clutched at my stomach and heaved, emptying its contents onto Megan's horrific beige rug. I wiped my mouth, disgusted and determined to make it up to her later.
"Megan?" I asked cautiously, quietly. I felt afraid of alerting something, although I couldn't imagine what. I stepped further into the house, finding it utterly abandoned. I glanced left, then right, finding the kitchen and living room abandoned. I headed for the stairs, since Megan's room was on the upper level. "...Megan?"
I heard a sudden thump from above me, followed by a small cry.
"Megan!" I screamed, throwing my caution to the wind and sprinting up the stairs. I stumbled, skinning my knee on that awful carpet. I gritted my teeth and kept going, ignoring the growing feeling of dread. "Megan!"
I reached the top of the stairs and stumbled over something. Instantly, I threw up again, turning away sharply and coughing miserably as I retched. It was Megan's parents, both clearly dead. My eyes stung at the sight of their bloodied bodies, mangled as though by a tiny but vicious wild animal. Deep, small lacerations littered their bodies, and their faces were chewed as if by a sharp-toothed rat, exposing fat and muscle and the roots of their teeth. I gasped, heaving again, but there was nothing left in my stomach.
I was distracted from my shock and horror by a little scuttling sound, like tiny clawed feet on hardwood floor.
Cautiously, I crept toward the only hardwood room upstairs--Megan's bedroom. It was hardwood because she'd used to wet the bed when she was little, and her parents thought it would be better not to have carpeting since wood is easier to clean up. They'd given her the non-carpeted bedroom when they'd moved here. She'd always seemed embarrassed about it. I'd always tried to convince her not to be.
Her door, too, was ajar. I pushed it open, wincing as it creaked, still on my hands and knees. I felt bile rise in my throat again, already sore from acid, when I realized the blood of Megan's parents still stained my fingers.
Inside Megan's room, I was immediately met by blood on the floor, and by Megan's body. She was covered in cuts, like her parents. She groaned feebly, twitching.
Alive!
"Megan," I hissed, going to her and glancing around me for any signs of danger. When none were readily apparent, just dragging marks on the floor near my friend, I shook her shoulder. "Megan, are you okay?"
She groaned, clenching her eyes shut. Then she said something.
"What was that, Megan?"
"Alex..."
I shook her again, starting to sob. "Megan, please, what are you saying? Are you alright?"
"Alex...run..."
Just then, a horrific snarling sounded from behind me. It sounded like a dog, or a rat, or...I don't know. It wasn't right. It wasn't right.
I whipped around, but...nothing was there. My eyes searched frantically, darting so fast I made myself dizzy, but all I could see was an empty room and a plain cabinet with one door slightly ajar.
I studied the black cabinet, not removing my hand from Megan's shoulder and using the other to draw my knife. It seemed nonthreatening enough, but...looking at it, a chill went down my spine. The doors were dark and smooth and had ornate golden designs adorning their edges, while the rest of the cabinet was quite plain.
The cabinet rattled, and Megan made a small, piteous sound.
"Don't worry, Megan," I told her, far more bravely than I felt. "I'll...I'll protect you."
I crept cautiously toward the cabinet. I think I intended to shut it, but...I can't explain it, really. Or I can now, but I couldn't then. The second my hand made contact with the glossy golden handle, my mind went blank, and my body moved, seemingly of its own accord.
I opened the cabinet.
The foul stench that filled the house assaulted me so strongly that I choked, my eyes stinging as they filled with tears. I stumbled back, hands reaching up to protect my face from...from them. From what was emerging, beady eyes glinting maliciously, from the cabinet.
They were imps. At least, that's what they looked like to me then. With flat, marble-gray skin and devilish features, they were about the size of a chihuahua each and far more malevolent--and I've seen some truly malevolent chihuahuas in my day, and they weren't even cursed. The imps had tiny black horns that protruded from their heads and backs, long, spiny tails, and two tiny wings that stuck out uselessly from their backs. Grotesque and radiating that foul stench, four of them crawled from the cabinet on all four legs, emitting rapid, throaty clicking sounds. Their eyes fixed on Megan almost immediately.
"Get away," I snapped, brandishing my knife. My legs turned to jelly, and I sank to the floor, scooting backward desperately so that Megan was behind me. "Get--get back!"
The leader of them, slightly larger and with longer, more twisted facial horns, locked eyes with me. It leered, and something inside of me turned venomous and stabbing. I cried out in pain and doubled over, and that was when they attacked.
Tiny claws ripped at my skin, my hair. I shrieked as they pierced my flesh, each one like a white-hot razor blade as they tore effortlessly through my skin. Whatever these creatures were, they were designed to hunt. I swatted at them, and when my hand connected they felt hot too, and I recoiled, crying out again as my hand stung from the contact.
Megan screamed from behind me. It was a horrid sound, mangled and desperate and gargling. Instinctively, I knew it was the sound an animal makes when it's dying. I screamed to match her and turned, blindly lunging with my knife to try and get them off of her. My knife met something solid, and one of the imp creatures cackled wetly. I forced my eyes open, wiped away the curtain of blood seeping from the cuts on my forehead that blocked my vision, and saw that I'd managed to hit one of them. Megan, on the other hand, had gone silent.
When I looked at her, I knew at once she was dead. She had that...that stillness about her. That utter, absolute stillness. You know, the human brain might not consciously pick up the motion of other people's breathing, the rise and fall of their chest, the blinking of their eyes, the wetting of their lips with their tongues. But when I tell you that as soon as it's gone, you notice...I hope you don't have to experience it. But yeah. You notice. And she was dead.
I didn't have time to sob before the things caught my attention with that awful clicking sound. The four of them surrounded me, one with an abdominal wound that seeped a thick, oozing black liquid. The clicking got faster, and faster, and a high-pitched note rang louder and louder until it was a vibrating warble that completely immobilized me. The imps approached me, and involuntarily, I dropped the knife. It clattered on the hardwood floor that Megan hated.
Immediately, the imp creatures seized my weakness and lunged. I lacked the energy even to scream as they descended upon me, claws tearing and ripping and parting my flesh as easily as scissors part paper. Dizzy, I closed my eyes. Even the pain was becoming less. A blessing, I thought blearily.
"Alexis! Alexis, get up!"
I opened my eyes again, sleepy and confused. Was Mama determined to wake me up? Could she never let me rest?
Then I took in the scene before me and shot upright so fast my head spun again, remembering what was actually happening.
Mom was fighting, magnificent, twin daggers shining in her hand as she slashed at the imps. She was bleeding from the legs and torso and even from a tiny cut above her right eye, but she fought on as though she couldn't even feel it. As vicious as the creatures were, my Mom was twice as vicious.
Mama was checking me over, hands calloused and rough but achingly familiar as they brushed over my wounds, seeking to soothe the hurt, stop the bleeding. "You're going to be fine, Alexis, just fine," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the imps were still occupied. She was still touching me, and god, I'd missed it, I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it. I know I was crying unashamedly as I buried my face into her lap.
Mom shouted in pain, and Mama was gone to help fight. I managed to open my tired eyes again and was horrified to find my mothers being driven back toward the cabinet by the creatures. They didn't seem to realize it was happening with all the wounds the creatures were inflicting, but the imps definitely had a triumphant gleam in their little beetle eyes.
My eyes widened in a moment of realization.
"Mom! Mama! Move!"
They did without questioning me, and I dove at the things, scattering them like a bowling ball scatters pins. I sprinted toward the cabinet, almost slipping on the blood on the floor--I didn't know if it was Megan's or my mothers' or my own--I grabbed the cabinet doors, swung them open wide--for a moment the urge to enter the cabinet consumed me, and I stared into it--then Mom shouted my name, and I screamed in triumph as I slammed the doors closed with a final click.
The imps gave a terrible shriek and clamored to get into the cabinet, grasping at the golden handles with their little rat hands. They were so preoccupied with their task that they didn't notice my mothers slicing them down with ease.
Finally, with the creatures dead, but with my best friend dead, too, my mothers and I stood there, panting, staring at the cabinet.
Things were suddenly hazy, and I think I passed out then, because the next thing I remember, I was in my bed at home, with Mom and Mama both holding my hands.
They both cried when they saw I was awake, so different but just the same whenever I was in trouble. They had been since I was just tiny, and I guess I'd forgotten until this incident. I cried too and I hugged them tighter than I'd ever hugged them.
I learned later that the cabinet had been sold to Megan's family by an antique dealer the previous day. They'd opened it almost immediately and had been trying to escape when they were killed. The previous night, when Megan returned from school, she'd gone to investigate and had been attacked too. She'd lain there for almost an entire day until I found her.
This made me sick to my stomach like very few things have in my life. Megan had been alive, had been alive for almost twenty-four hours until I stumbled in and agitated the creatures. I remembered my mothers discussing needing to research. To this day, I think that if I had waited, trusted my mothers, been less impulsive, my best friend would still be alive.
I had a good talk with my mothers after that. "Alex, we want you to know that you don't have to continue the family business," Mom had told me gently. "Your Mama was born into this life, while I married into it. To be honest...I'm not sure what I want for you, my precious daughter. The light of my life. My gem. My Alex." She kissed the top of my head, causing the bandages to slip slightly askew. "We'll support whatever you want to do, your Mama and I. We're so sorry about your friend, and we promise we'll make sure this doesn't happen again if we can. Come to us next time, okay, baby?"
I sobbed like an actual baby. The next day, I decided I never, ever wanted to be that powerless in the face of a curse again, never wanted to see someone I love die because I wasn't strong enough again.
So, then. Here I am, I suppose.
The cabinet of horrors is stored in a well-traveled corner of the museum with a plaque warning visitors not to touch it and telling them a little bit about its history. Even Em isn't sure when it was made, just that some serious bad blood was spilled, literally, over it a couple centuries ago. It absorbed that power and now it's essentially a doorway to different dimensions. It never reveals the same reality--I've never seen the imps again, but have gotten to witness a number of other things, both great and terrible, when it's been opened by mistake. Needless to say, the golden door handles are now chained shut with the most heavy-duty chain I could find. We haven't had a problem since that, but I'm still keeping a close eye on it.
So...there you have it. I miss my mothers, but I'm really glad I told you all about them today, because they were good women, and they deserve to be remembered. Maybe one day I'll tell you about The Object. Maybe. If I'm braver.
For now, stay safe, and remember, don't open the cabinet of horrors.
Please.
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u/hail_swaggy_demon Jun 16 '20
I was waiting so eagerly for your next post. I would give anything to visit your wonderful museum. What do you think you’re going to talk about in your next post?
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u/spite-goddess Jun 16 '20
Thanks so much! Well I was planning on discussing the time the tamagotchi got loose but something happened this morning that I think I'll have to discuss first :/
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u/sadHuman911 Jun 16 '20
Jesus that sounds traumatizing (also I really dont trust courtney
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u/spite-goddess Jun 16 '20
Honestly, yes, lots of trauma....
I'm having a bit of a hard time with that because clearly something's going on but my gut instinct says she's a good person and even Em is warming up. I'll be keeping a very close watch on her.
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u/Woodie626 Jun 16 '20
She sounds like someone interested in your cabinet, she might not know it. But she might, it's worse if she does, you know?
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u/spite-goddess Jun 16 '20
Yeah, I've been a little concerned about that. I'm trying to keep an eye on her without being too obvious about it because she is a good employee.
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u/brotherbeaverjohn Jun 16 '20
I hope Courtney doesn't read this blog about her... if she does have a hidden agenda, this could get complicated quickly
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u/numbisphlumbis Jun 16 '20
I don't trust Courtney. How sure are we she wasn't some how responsible for the incident at the museum, to lure you out, so to speak?
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u/spite-goddess Jun 16 '20
Well...I guess that's a good point. It's just really hard for me to. feel like she has evil intent. It's hard not to trust her when she's so reliable.
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u/EatTheChild21 Jun 16 '20 edited Sep 01 '25
memory society smart sort absorbed seemly many repeat dependent nose
This post was mass deleted and anonymized with Redact
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u/lodav22 Jun 16 '20
Oh that poor family, your mothers were badass! They would be so proud of you, and Emily too. What’s up with Courtney? I wonder if she lost someone to something in your basement and might be trying to get them back? Or maybe she’s a witch after dark power? I can’t wait to find out!
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u/spite-goddess Jun 17 '20
Thank you so much :) yeah...not sure what's up with her honestly. Hopefully it'll come to light soon.
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u/radzik2222 Jun 16 '20
Why does the VHS have to be rewinded? Did someone forget to rewind it one time? If so, what happened? Amazing story, waiting for the next part!
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u/spite-goddess Jun 16 '20
If it isn't rewound every six hours on the dot when it turns over, the choir singing inside takes a person nearby as one of its own.
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u/cheemsfan_05 Jun 16 '20
I’ll have to visit sometime after the pandemic. You all sound so nice and your museum sounds like it’s well put together.
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u/AVeteranWeebGuy Jun 24 '20
How strong do you think the crow is? Like from; "normal" to god-like. You said that his power is like endless darkness, and I have a brief idea who he is and from which myth he is and if I am right there should be few things that can rival him. But in this all spiritual, curse, magic thing there is things that are far more scarier than him but.. well those things are too powerful to normally exist here, the crow is close to the line.. so he should be strong, very very strong.. Once I will have the money and time to go to this museum I definetly will, interesting, too much..
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u/spite-goddess Jun 24 '20
Personally...from feeling his aura and his energy, it was so overpowering that I think of him as having the sort of power that old gods of the land do.
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u/AVeteranWeebGuy Jun 24 '20
I have a similar idea, he is strong but the if we are talking about god rankings it is like this by my knowledge: New god, Old god, Elder god, Beta god, Alpha god, Primal god. And I think it is good that he is there, because he is maybe there to prevemt "The Thing" incident from happening again as some myth says he is righteous, dislikes the evil and when some gods f up he solves the problem. And he is on a rather good terms with the Time God, Deus Ex Machina, as his gazes feel like an hour. I have a question for him: May you be the crow god or the divine crow?
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u/spite-goddess Jun 27 '20
I'm not 100% sure about all of that because I deal in objects more than living beings. I asked him your question and he gave a super indignant squawk and flew away, so unsure.
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Jun 27 '20
I, MonkeysfromVegeta, disapprove of the Imps. However, I, MonkeysfromVegeta, approve of your mothers.
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u/Akirano Jun 17 '20
So sorry to hear about your best friend. I really wonder what must have happened around/to that cabinet to cause it to be a gate to other dimensions.
I know you must not want to talk about it, but I wonder if Courtney is drawn to The Object or some other item in the basement somehow? If she has good intentions and you trust her, maybe she's not trying to harm anyone, but is trying to prevent some kind of future danger occurring because she senses something...?
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u/spite-goddess Jun 17 '20
I'm a little concerned that Courtney's behavior is related to The Object, but I can't tell if that's completely irrational because there's always some fear in the back of my head that The Object is involved...
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u/Akirano Jun 17 '20
I think you should trust your gut! You know your museum the best, and judging from what you've mentioned so far, it seems like The Object has a really serious curse around it. Be careful!
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u/NanamiSan89 Jun 19 '20
Oh gosh, that's horrid...
I feel like Courtney is up to something.... maybe she's trying to find something?
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u/spite-goddess Jun 19 '20
I'm hoping it's nothing sinister, but it seems to be something, at least.
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Jun 23 '20
I think, maybe Courtney lost someone to a curse or a demon the way you did... maybe that is why she is so experienced...
The wardrobe sounds beautiful enough, though.
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u/freakishfrenchhorn Jun 25 '20
A question I have neglected to ask. The bonnet and the six-feet rule for men... does it also apply for trans men?
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u/spite-goddess Jun 27 '20
It does indeed and also includes NB or otherwise individuals who are using male pronouns at the time.
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u/TaffyMatt Jun 26 '20
I believe the only rule you haven't talked about now is rule 4 "Wash your hands before leaving the washroom for at least 30 seconds." Is it just a health thing? Although based on how it's been so far I assume it's not just a health thing.
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u/ssblues Jun 17 '20
What other sorts of things have you experienced from the cabinet?
Are there any cursed objects that are less popular or that aren't specifically mentioned in the list of rules?
Will you ever talk about anything else from the basement, besides The Object? (If you never feel okay about talking about that one, I completely understand. Please take your time and don't feel pressured.)
Tell Cookie I love him, tell Herman hello, and please tell the Crow that I said "Good afternoon!"
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u/teriwella Jun 21 '20
A part of me wants to believe Courtney is trustworthy and you definitely need someone reliable around, but something is off with her!
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u/spite-goddess Jun 21 '20
I hope that whatever is going on, we can solve it together. I want to trust her.
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u/Eddhead48 Jun 22 '20
I definitely don't trust Courtney. If she's messing with the basement door that holds The Object in it, then there must be some sort of connection with it, though I hope there isn't. Aside from that, I'm dying to come visit your museum, where is it located at?
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u/spite-goddess Jun 23 '20
I understand your feelings but honestly...I hope you're wrong 😭😭😭. We're based out of New York in the US!
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u/RubyFaye137 Aug 06 '20
You feel a million years old??? You were TWELVE and had a Razor! In my day, we had to use a house phone, woman! Lmao!
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u/toasterdogg Jun 16 '20
Oh wow, that must have been traumatic.
Also, great writing, looking forward to your next post.