The Sound of Terror

Brian had only seen his great aunt Erma once. He was four, so he didn’t remember much of her. What he did remember, however, was that she had petrified him, even though the other members of his family had liked her. She lived in a rambling, decrepit Victorian home in the middle of the countryside. Her voice was best described as a hiss. 

            Now at her funeral, Brian peeked at her face in the coffin. She looked the same, her face seeming to grin at him. He quickly looked away. 

Two Months Later

Brian gnawed on a piece of his mom’s meatloaf. It was dinnertime, and unfortunately for everyone, Mom had done the cooking. She could find a way to butcher any type of dish, including a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. As the family of four tried to get their dinner down without gagging, there was a knock on the door of their house. Garrett, Brian’s 16-year old brother, said, “I’ll get it.” 

A few moments passed, and it reached the remaining family members’ ears that there was a package. 

Garrett plunked it down on their table. It was large, around two-and-a-half feet long. “It’s from Great Aunt Erma’s place.” 

Brian mulled this over. If it had come directly from the place, that meant that Great Aunt Erma had mailed it before she died. Maybe it was some kind of inheritance. Maybe it was some gold, or money, or maybe something even more valuable! His head spun. 

Dad tore open the box. The family’s four heads came together above it. Inside was a letter and a slightly smaller box. The letter simply said, 

Dear family, 

This was mine, but it’s your problem now. Take good care of it.

Great Aunt Erma

Brian was right! Without acknowledging the fact that she had referred to whatever it was as a problem, he tore open the smaller box. 

            There, sitting in a pile of packing peanuts, was a phonograph.

            Brian was awed. He had never seen a phonograph before. It was even the really old kind, with the metal horn! It had a record on it. 

            Garret, Mom, and Dad were also enthused. Crowding around the phonograph, they chatted with excitement. Brian was excited. “Mom! Do you think we can play records on it?” 

            “I don’t know, honey,” she replied. “It looks pretty old. But we can try.”

 The next day, Brian raced around the house. It was a warm, sunny day. The family had set the phonograph up earlier. It couldn’t play music anymore, though. The record on the phonograph was grey and blank. He thought the record was cool, and kept it in his room. 

That day, he planned on going biking with some friends. First, though, he decided to try to fix the phonograph. He ambled closer and put his hand on the part that played the music.  Suddenly, there was a chill in his spine. He couldn’t describe it. It was like he was in a horror movie, and the villain was about to jump out. He heard loud, haunting music in the background, building tension. He knew it was his imagination, but he turned around and saw that his record was on the phonograph, turning. Brian felt someone watching him. He felt a terrible feeling of horror. 

He couldn’t take it. He raced into the garage and rode away on his bike. 

After dinner that night, he didn’t come out of his room. He felt something was after him - and it had to do with the phonograph. He felt this so strongly that the very idea haunted his dreams. 

The next day was Saturday. Brian and his family were going to go out and watch a local baseball game. He had been looking forward to it all week. But today, even looking at the phonograph made him skitter away. When the family was ready to leave, Brian felt the music start on again - the living room, which was where the phonograph was, was right next to the front door.  The closer he was to the phonograph, the more intense it was. Now, the music filled his ears and made his heart lurch. 

“Mom!” He turned towards Mom. “Don’t you hear that? That creepy music? When I move closer to the phonograph, it starts up. The phonograph is playing.” 

Mom looked at him. “You must be hearing things. I don’t hear any music. And when I look at it, the phonograph isn’t playing.” 

Brian stared at her helplessly. “But I hear it! I hear it and I see the phonograph play!” 

Mom shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t hear anything.” 

At that, the family filed out of the house. Brian’s chills stopped only when they were a block away. 

The phonograph had to be destroyed. Brian could feel it. 

That night, when his parents were asleep, Brian snuck out of bed with his dad’s sledgehammer.

His nerves were jolting, and the eerie music started up almost immediately. It almost made him run up the stairs and hide again. 

He stood his ground, though. Gritting his teeth, he slammed the huge hammer onto the phonograph. The music seemed to jump an octave. However, the phonograph was undamaged - not even a dent!  He picked up the hammer, even though the strange music was still going on. As he picked it up past his head again, he heard a yelp. Mom was standing at the top of the stairwell. “What’re you doing at this hour?” She bellowed. 

“The phonograph - It’s evil!” Brian stuttered.  “It has to be destroyed.” 

“It’s very valuable! Don’t touch it again!” 

“But don’t you hear that music?” Brian looked at her, desperate. 

Brian’s mother was astonished. “The music you were talking about before?” 

Brian explained how the music started up when he was near the phonograph, and how it scared the guts out of him. Mom listened thoughtfully. Something had to be done.

That day, the family decided to throw away the phonograph. Garrett, Brian’s older brother, lugged it into his car and deposited it in the trunk. He was going to donate it to a local museum. 

The next day, Brian got out of bed. He began getting breakfast ready - it was a school day. Garrett had donated the phonograph to the museum, so all his problems were solved. But when he heard the uncanny music start up, he froze up. Chills going off like fireworks inside his body, he inched closer to the living room. 

There, in all its eeriness, was the phonograph.  “MOM!” he shouted. “It came back! Come look!”

Mom rushed over. Her jaw fell open. Slowly playing the haunting music, the phonograph was out in the open. It had returned.

That week, the family tried whatever they could to get rid of it – burying it six feet underground in their yard, dumping it into a nearby lake, giving it to the local bank to put into the vault there. It always came back, no matter what. They couldn’t escape its wrath.

One night, a week later, Brian lay in bed. He could hear the music now, even though the phonograph was on the other side of the house. He hadn’t left his house for seven days - the phonograph music got louder and tenser when he went near the door.  A sick feeling filled his stomach all the time. His mom was worried. It wasn’t raining, but thunder boomed. Lightning lit his room - turned night into day - for a split second. It was then that Brian heard the cackle. It was a shrill, old woman's voice. It cackled and cackled and cackled. “Mom!” Brian cried out, tears forming in his eyes. Mom didn't come. Brian panicked, the cackle still going on. “MOM! MOM! MOM!” he screamed. Mom came running up to him, and he buried himself in her, sobbing and shaking. He was going insane with terror - he could feel it. 

In the morning, Brian was exhausted. He hadn’t slept a wink last night. He was still scared about the phonograph. He described, trembling, the terrors of the previous night to his family. It was all caused by the phonograph. It was then that the family decided to get rid of the phonograph once and for all. If it only played scary music, then what would happen if they tried to play happy music on it? Dad grabbed one of his old records - disco music - and put it on the turntable. He put the regular, gray, record under it, because that was what made it play. Brian stepped closer to it to make the phonograph work, and it played. But instead of landing on its original record, the needle played the awful disco music, which was on top. Realizing its mistake, the phonograph made a groaning noise and tried to switch off, but the damage was done. It shut down, never to play music again. 

Today, it’s still in the family’s living room, but it never plays music. It’s just a decoration. The bad disco record is still on it. And Brian never has to live in terror again.