New beginnings are terrifying and tomorrow is a new day with people I don’t know.
Her name was Elise Gisolph. Born in Hamburg in 1869 as the daughter of Judge Rudolph Gisolph. At the age of 20, Elizabeth had developed two passions in life. The first of those was music as she was gifted violoncellist. When she touched the strings of cello, it was like the sound of angel as described by witnesses of her music. The problem was that she didn’t only like to please men with her music. As popular as her music was, so infamous was her promiscuity. Her behaviour wasn’t willed at the time especially for a lady. Her hyper sexuality was thorn in the eyes of her devoted father. When Elise turned 28, her father had enough. He forced her to join a monastery. The decisions of her father caused her to hate all of men. Why was she forced to be locked away. Rotting away in an institute, created to other an Almighty creature that seemingly had abandon her, while the men she slept with were free. Free to continue their lives, while she was buried alive in this house of God. Why were they free. All of them had the committed the same sin as her, some even more. Many of the men who shared her bed were married, some had even children and a few were old enough to be her father! And yet she was the only one who was punished for it. Only because she was a woman… To prevent her from going insane, she was allowed to play music in the monastery. But something was changed, a subtle difference in her playing sound, in the music she played. She stayed 2 years in the monastery, until ‘he’ arrived. A mysterious man visited the monastery and asked to see the now 30 years old Sister Elizabeth. Mother superior tried to send the man away. She proclaimed that Sister Elizabeth refused to see another man ever again in her life. The man seemed to understand Elizabeth’s wish but asked mother superior to give her a little present. He gave a little rectangular object. It was wooden music box with crimson velvet and a golden lock. He also gave her the key. “Give it to her and say it’s a gift from an old friend.” But before she could ask him his name, he left the monastery. Fighting her curiosity to open a box that didn’t belong to her, she had brought the box to the cell of sister Elizabeth. The next day, the corpse of sister Elizabeth was found. She had cut her wrists with a knife she had stolen from the kitchen after her kitchen duty. The box was placed in front of her, still playing it’s mysterious music…
It was Friday morning and the summer shone through the window of Old Gary pawn store. The shop bell rang as John Smith entered the store. Dressed casual with a red chequered shirt and a light blue denim jeans, he looked around the shop, searching for the owner. Old Gary Hartmann appeared behind the counter and greeting his usual enigmatic grin. John nods at his friend and smiled too.
"How it’s going?"
"Business is booming and that makes the wife happy, so I have nothing to complain. How are you?"
"Good, good… I have no complains either. The wife is out of town for a few weeks, for work and Carla has started on the university. Any new items in?”
"Actually, yes. Something I actually wanted to show you, I was hoping you would pay me visit soon."
He led his friend to the back of the store, which was much darker than the rest of the shop. In this part of the shop, you could find objects with a more sinister past. Gasmasks of the World War I and II but also old books bound in the skin of an executed criminal from the late 1800. Gary stopped abruptly and without warning at a cabinet filled with small objects. John was surprised and collided with Gary. The old man lost balance and almost fell against the cabinet as it wasn’t for John who managed to grab him just in time.
"Thanks, John. Maybe I could have better warned you we had arrived."
"No problem, Gary. Let’s go on like nothing happened. What was it that you wanted to show me?"
He reached out for it on the 4th shelf and showed it at the historian. It was little rectangular box which was refined with a golden coloured metal, which protected the ribs of the box and came together at the front by a golden keyhole. The box itself was coated in a crimson material, most likely leather. From the left side, there was a crank which was made from the same metal as the decorations. He looked from the box to the pawn store owner.
"Do you know what it this is?"
"I know what you think it is."
"It’s fit the description, doesn’t it. And here is the key to open the box!" He took the key and showed it to his friend. While he looked at the golden key, he said: "Indeed. This could be indeed the Gisolph’s Music Box. Amazing! How did it get here?"
"I bought it from an old lady who was married with a Englishman who have inherited from his mother…"
"How much do you want for it?"
As a historian specialized in Europe of the 19th century, he was fascinated by everything from this time period. But he never had dreamed of seeing such an item, let alone possessing one. During his studies he was stumbled upon the story of Elizabeth Gisolph. For some reason the story intrigued him.
John shivered when his fingers were closed around the box as he raised it in the air
"What do you mean?"
"How much do you want for it?" John repeated.
"I’m not selling this to you!"
"Why would you refuse me such thing! I believed we were friends!"
"That’s exactly why I’m not selling it to you! Not to any male customer! This object is cursed!"
"You really don’t believe this yourself, do you?! There isn’t such a thing as curses, Gary!"
The old Gary’s head became red of shame and anger but didn’t surrender, instead he continued his attack why he believe this artefact was cursed : “The father of the Englishman was a soldier in World War II. He came in possession of the box at the end of the war, in the Battle of Berlin. He disappeared in 1950, he was 41 years old. The mother died in 1969 and our friend found the box while cleaning her house, his house now. He disappeared in 1970. According to his wife, he had opened to the box and since that he was obsessed by it. She told me he believed to see things that were there. He also heard things she couldn’t. She opened the box herself but still couldn’t understand the behaviour of her husband.”
"And you think it’s the curse and that it only targets men?"
"Well, Gary. I don’t! I’ll give you a thousand for it. That sounds reasonable!"
"Ok, thousand dollar but only because you really want it. But do me pleasure, don’t open the box. It’s not safe for us to open it!"
It was already getting dark and it was starting to rain. It was the end of a beautiful day, John though when he looked the box in the middle of his kitchen table. The box was surrounded by books about West-European mysteries, sketches with artistic impression of how the box should have looked and an audio recorder, so he could record the music coming from the box. He looked from the drawings to box and back. If the drawings were accurate, they really looked like the box standing before him. Could this really be the box he had been looking for? Would it contain the answers he had sought. Could he finally solve the mystery of the Elizabeth’s suicide. He knew he had promised to not open the box but what harm could it do. There was no such thing as curses, only people who frightened enough to believe in them. He wouldn’t say ignorant enough because this hasn’t much do with knowledge or intellect, only with believe. And curses was something in which he didn’t believe. He took the key and unlocked the box.
With shaking fingers of excitement opened the box. Like expected nothing happened. The box as surprisingly empty. A small wooden box inside contained the mechanics necessary to create the music but for the rest it was empty. He had hoped for some piece of paper or another clue to what happened the day she died. But nothing. Maybe, he would some answers when he would turn the crank. It could be possible that the music contained a subtle message that could have led to her demise. Something that you’ll only would notice subconsciously. He would take his audio recorder and record the music coming for the box. He tests his audio recorder one last time (“Little Mary had a lamb.”) and closed the box. He started turning the crank. He could hear the mechanics twist as he continued. He stopped when he fell a pressure pushing back. He released the crank and full excitement he grabbed the microphone and placed it close to the music box. The box popped open and a beautiful sound came from the box. The melody sounded like that of a cello and filled the house. He closed his eyes as the music engulfed him. When the music stopped playing and he reopened his eyes it had only felt like few minutes had go by but when he looked at his watch he saw two hours had been passed since he started listening to the song. He quickly started to collect his things and pilled them up and started the preparation of his dinner meal. Unbelievable that two hours had been passed since he started listening. But this was no curse, he was just tired and had fallen asleep, nothing more…
Two days of hard working, analyzing the tape had a disappointing result. On the tape was nothing to here. It was to say, nothing extra-ordinary. No hidden messages, no secret calls when it was played back, nothing. The only special thing about the tape was the quality of the music. It was the first time in his life he have heard a music box that was able to play such a complex piece and it was also the first time that he found one which sound just like a cello. His further research about the subject had let to nothing, the only thing he found that was quite interesting was the fact that the cello was an instrument that came very close to the human voice qua sound, only to be surpassed by the piano for as far the internet could tell him. When he rubbed his eyes, it had been a long weekend, he start hearing that same melody again. He looked at his computer and saw that the program he had used to analyze the music, wasn’t open. He checked his audio player but then released that the batteries died yesterday and he didn’t had the time to get new ones. He looked around in the house and walked towards the crimson music box, still accompanied by the music. John shivered by what he saw. It wasn’t open, so the sound couldn’t be produced by the music box. Yet the music continued, goose bumps were forming on his arms. He raised his head and looked above: “Hello, is there someone?”
As sudden as the music had started to play, it stopped when he screamed.
"What’s going on?"
With a depressed look he stood before his window. It was raining and if there was something that he hated then it was rain. Especially now he had nothing to do. He had ceased his project since the weird events of the day before. He still couldn’t explain what had happened to him. How was it possible that heard that music as there was nothing that could have played it. Was his mind playing tricks with him? Was he imagining things? But what if… He could think about that option. It was impossible that it was really the ‘curse’. Curses didn’t exist but if he allow his already tired mind to think about that like it was a legit explanation, he could expect far severe illusions. He was simply tired from a weekend of only 5 hours sleep. It was not healthy for a man of his age to work that hard. When he was younger he was able to do this without any problems. But he was no longer 25 years old, he was 50 almost 51. The age had some compensation but speed nor stamina were one of them. And maybe it was time to admit that. As he turned around, he believed to see a shadow disappear on his wall. He only saw it in a blink of an eye but it was still quite recognizable. It was to say, he was sure it was a female shadow. He sneaks to where he saw the shadow but who ever caused the shadow was now gone. For the second time in two days, he yelled like an idiot in the empty house. He lowered his head and rubbed his eyes.
"OK, it was enough. He really needed some sleep."
As he had hoped that some sleep would had bring him some peace, he had gravely mistaken. He looked at his screen of his computer, without seeing a thing. He had been thinking about his nocturnal experiences of last night. The strange sightings that started to control his life had started to haunt his dreams as well.
In the middle of the night he had been awaken by a sudden noise. No, noise wasn’t the correct term as it was that same melody again. The sound of a cello. He had opened his eyes and stared to his ceiling, listening to the enchanting music.
"What is it, darling?" Someone was lying next of him, someone who wasn’t his wife! He tried to move but discovered that was impossible. Only his head could he move. For the corner of his eye, he saw how the woman moved in his direction.
"What is happening?!" he asked her but to his horror, he could no longer make any sound as the woman positioned her on him. Smiling she looked down at him. She was dressed like a nun. As the sound got louder, she lowered her head. He tried to turn away his head but found himself trapped between her in evening gloves shrouded hands. She pressed her lips on his and kissed him long and hard. She lifted his head from his cushion, still kissing him and he was still unable to escape. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted to escape. She pushed him back on the bed but her hands remained clamped around his face. She smiled once again and this time he was able to speak. He screams of agonizing pain as her nails scratched open his cheeks. She pushed her thin fingers through the cuts that she created. He felt how her leather fingertips touched his tongue before they clenched to fists. Her smile got bigger as she lifts his head up once again. The pain was indescribable. While he suffered an excruciating pain and blood filled his throat, she kissed him once again before he woke up screaming.
He awoke from these thoughts when his phone rang.
"Hello, with John Smith."
"Hello, Carla. How is it going? Everything all right?"
"Yeah, I’m having a great time. I and Kimberly are going to join a covenant!"
"It’s Kimberly and I, honey. Anyway, which covenant are you joining?"
"Never heard of it."
"It’s an exclusive club, daddy."
"And you managed to become a part of it. Nice going, Carla. I…"
He was distracted by something he saw outside.
"Honey, I will call you back another time, I have a visitor. Bye."
He hung up his phone and looked outside. To be fair, he didn’t had a visitor, not one of the invited kind at least. He walked towards the window and saw a woman standing outside. It was quite hard to see her clear as it was dark outside. He pushed a light switch and focused his pupils to see who it was. For as far as he could see, was the woman dressed in a long black dress. He bended towards the windows trying to see her better and was shocked when she suddenly appeared flat front of the window, holding the same distance as he was. But now he could clearly see her. As that cursed melody filled his head, he recognized the nun standing before his window.
"I should never opened that cursed box! Never!"
As the sun was going down, John Smith was crying in his office with his hands in his hair. The nightmares only got worse, he felt how he was slowly losing his grip on reality. He still could hear the music, even as he buried the box in the garden. Strange sightings haunted his every waking hour, only to replaced by the mysterious Elise Gisolph as he went to sleep. Yes, in those hours of terror he had realized who was tormented him so savagely. Her visage resembled a drawing he had found. Why couldn’t she leave him alone instead of torturing him to the point of insanity. He had buried his disbelief in curses, together with the box. Both decisions were made after a nightmare that was even more terrifying that the one before. Tired of everything that had happened to him, he had fallen asleep on the couch. A deep slumber that was disturbed by a severe pain in his legs. He had opened his eyes but yet unable to move. He saw a long shadow working on his legs as the pain got only worse. The shadow moved to his hands and took a long a needle and a thread and slowly starts to sew his fingers together! He screams as she continued with his other hand before sewing his arms to his sides. He hoped that he would lose consciousness but it didn’t happen and the pain continued. He tried to move again but was still unable to move anything else then his face. He saw the woman who tortured him, Elise Gisolph. She smiled at him: “You’re not going to leave me, John. You’re mine!”
She positioned herself on top of him and even while experiencing so much pain, he was getting aroused by her. This was not possible. He tried to scream but she placed her finger on his lips and for some reason, it worked. No longer able to move his mouth, she started sewing his lips together, sewing his nostrils, causing him to suffocate slowly. She stands up and leaves him.
He woke up the moment he would die, bathing in sweat. It was then he decided to bury the box. Before it could claim him. But it didn’t work, he still could hear the music, echoing in his house or maybe just in his head. He looked up and noticed his cell phone. There was only one man who could help him, Gary. He took his phone and called his old time friend. Trying to ignore the subtle music in the background, he waited till his friend answered.
"Hello, with Gary Hartmann."
"Gary, John here. I have serious problem…"
"You opened the box, didn’t you?"
"How do you know?"
"So you really did. I told you not to do it and you ignore my warning. So tell me, does you now believe in curses."
"Yes, you have to help me!"
"Tell me, what did you see or hear?"
"First I started to hear the music of the box, later I started to see strange things and now nightmares are haunting me… That woman haunted me."
"You have seen HER!"
"YES!!! What can I do? Did anyone ever escaped her?""
"The only two men I know who opened the box, disappeared mysteriously. But they kept the box, maybe if you bring it to me. Maybe that’s a way to escape it. Where is it?"
"I buried in my garden."
"Go get and call me back when you have it"
"OK, I’ll call you back in a minute!"
He ran outside and took his shovel. He started digging but then did a horrifying discovery. The box was gone!
Since the disappearing of the music box, the music was no longer echoing in his house. But instead of be happy by this evolution, he was frightened. Where was the box? Who got it? Could it be that a dog dug up the box? No, there should have been a hole in the ground if it was a dog. He hadn’t dare to call Gary back. There was nothing he could do now to help him. If he hadn’t open the box, if he wasn’t haunted, he would have call his daughter to see how she was doing or if she was ready for her initiation. But now, he had other concerns. Or maybe it would help to call her. To starting to forget this nightmare. He should first call her and then burn all his research, everything that could be connected to this case. He dialled the number and waits until she would pick up.
"I’m busy for the moment and can’t answer your call. But leave a message and I shall call you back. Bye…"
He hung up the phone and bowed his head: “Damn it! She don’t pick up! OK, John. Keep it cool, you have to keep your head cool. Burn everything of this case and try to forget this horrible week!”
But before he do another step, he heard that damned music again. But this time it sounded as a vague echo, not clear as it always had be. The sound came from upstairs. There was only thing he could do, it was time to face his demons!
He run upstairs and the music got louder. His heart started to beat so fast, it start to hurt. He rubbed his chest while he also starts to breath heavily. He rises his head up and looks at the attic. He should bet his head on it that the music came from there. He opened the staircase, and his theory proven. As he goes upstairs, he started to sweat and got goose bumps. He looks in the attic, nothing had changed here in 10 years, in the 10 years after the death of his mother. The attic was filled with boxes and there was still a curtain in the middle of the room, from the time he and his brother shared the attic as a bedroom. His three sisters slept in on the first floor with the twins sharing a room, Carla’s room. There was nothing changed, nothing but… There was a box, the music box. He couldn’t explain why it was here or why he didn’t notice it earlier. The box was open. Angered, he closed the box but the music didn’t stop. He notices a strange figure behind the curtain. It was sitting on a chair and playing an cello. Once again he got goose bumps and his heart was now beating at a terrifying rate. With sweaty palms, he pulled away the curtain. The woman of his nightmare was sitting before him with her eyes closed. She wore a scapular but her habit had changed. Her clothing was more similar to modern woman. She was wearing a black long sleeved T-shirt and a black tight pants. Between her legs, she had her cello but the look of it was the most shocking image he had seen.
The cello was made of a human corpse! The scroll was a skull, lacking its lower jaw. The neck was made of the spinal cord while the body of the cello was made of the male’s torso lacking arms and legs. Two F-holes were made in the stomach and the endpin was, just like the neck, made of the spinal cord. The strings were red, looked like veins and most likely were. The bow she used to play on this ‘instrument’ was made of a femur and veins. He had no idea how this was even possible. The woman kept playing the music and John finally started to understand his feelings. His beating heart, the sweating and the goose bumps on his arms. He wasn’t frightened, he was aroused! Even with the horrifying image, couldn’t change the influence the music got on him. He almost felt ashamed when he discovered he had an erection.
Unable to move, he looks at Elisabeth playing. Suddenly she opened her eyes. He screams as something cut four deep cuts in his cheeks. She smiles and plays further, ignoring his screams. As blood fill the ground, he’s still unable to move. Suddenly she raises her bow and aim it at him. His legs, his arms and his fingers started to bleed as they are sewed together, just like in his nightmare. He fell down as she stood up. While he was still screaming, she steps towards him.
"I like when my lovers make a little noise, but this is getting a bit far, don’t you think."
She smiled as he felt how his lips, eyes and nostrils were sewed together. The last thing he heard was: “We are going to make such a wonderful music”
And during his final minute of conscious he realized what had happened to her former ‘lovers’. This was her final revenge on men, she would be the only one who would able to leave freely. She smiled at the box as she take her leave with her new cello…
This is a story about two young men from Birmingham, UK, and it happened in the year 1969. I’m not claiming that this is exactly how it happened down to the last detail, but still, this is (more or less) a true story.
Terence, a man from the working class, around the age of 20, had been interested in the occult for some time back then. He had painted his room in matte black and decorated it with inverted crosses, pentagrams, and various pictures of demons and Satan himself. He read and wrote about dark cults, the supernatural and about everything that is evil and unholy.
His mate, John, knew this well; when he stumbled upon a book that was obviously written at least a couple hundreds of years ago - in Latin he went straight to Terence and gave it to him as a present. None of them had any idea what it was about, since they did not understand Latin - but it was obvious from the appearance and the sound of some of the words written in it, that it had to have something to do with black magic or witchcraft.
Terence was so amazed by this book that he forgot to ask John where he had found it. He spent the whole evening trying to figure what this book could teach him, but even after a couple of hours of intense studying, he still could not find a clue. Frustrated and exhausted, he put the book on his desk and simply went to sleep.
He awakened in the middle of the night, not sure what it was that had interrupted his deep slumber. And then he saw it.
On the end of his bed, barely visible in the dark of his room, stood an enormous black shape with fiery red eyes. And it pointed at him.
His natural reaction was to switch on the light, which he did - and the thing was gone. And as it turned out, so was the book John had given him. He looked for it everywhere in his room, in his house, at his friend house - but the book had simply vanished.
Of course, this incident left had a big influence on both of them. The influence was so big in fact, that they decided to write a song about it and later rename the rock band they played in after this song. The song’s title was “Black Sabbath.” And that is how Heavy Metal was invented.
The sound of grinding metal and loud banging wake you up from your uncomfortable sleep. But the bed you laid down to rest on is not the same bed you awake in. Looking down at the cold floor below you, you see the soft blankets are replaced with rust and blood, making it feel almost like sandpaper. ‘Whose blood is it?’ is the first thing that comes rushing to the front of your mind. You check yourself for any injuries, but none are apparent. At least there’s one thing comforting about this place.
You stand now to take a look around, hoping you’ll find a way out of this room, but instead find the source of the blood. Surrounding you are people, caught in terrible traps. One is caught in a cage with no floor, bound in the air by multiple spikes, similar to a Iron Maiden. But none of the spikes have pierced any vitals. The only signal he’s still alive is the silent weeping. Screaming for help is far beyond this man’s ability now; he screamed his voice away days ago. Tears are the only comfort he has now.
You look away, only to see yet another tragic victim. This one is a female, though no longer alive. The kill seems fresh, however. How you can tell this isn’t clear to you yet. Easier to tell is how she died. She was placed on seemingly one bed of nails, though this was no magic trick. It probably took less than a minute for her body to slide down the length of the nails. This was not meant to kill her, but what happened next was. The bed of nails separated and pulled apart, driven by loud and rusty gears. The nails tore and dug deeper into her body, not wanting to let go, until eventually they caught bone and tore her abdomen open. Her intestines spilled over, and still lay on the cold floor below. Blood and tears stained her face, still frozen in agony due to rigor mortis.
‘Why? Why are these people here? Why have they been locked up like this and left to die?’ You don’t question why you yourself are here. It doesn’t feel wrong; in fact, this place comforts you to some degree. This large room filled with victims both alive and dead feels like home. You wander around aimlessly, paying no heed to the few capable of calling out to you, begging to be let free. Begging for mercy. ‘Mercy from what?’ you question in your head. ‘I was not the one who put you here.’ This brings you to ponder why they were put here. ‘What could they have done to deserve this?’ Though this may sound like sympathy on paper, it is not. You firmly believe this is where they belong.
After walking for what seemed like years, you finally find yourself at an interesting place. Isolated from the tortured men and women is an antique-looking mirror. The metal framing it is the only metal to escape the rust of time and blood of man. You raise your hand to the mirror, touching it delicately, as if it would fracture into pieces if you weren’t careful. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you find your wardrobe to be different than the one you’re seemingly wearing. On you is what you thought you normally went to bed in, but the mirror tells a different tale. The details of this outfit are blurry, and covered in far too much blood and flesh to be made out properly.
In your confusion, the mirror image speaks to you in a soft tone, as if these words are meant for your ears only.
“It’s alright. I did this for you. I did what you couldn’t do. You were weak. That’s why you needed me. Someone to punish them for their sins. Soon, it will all be over. There’s only one more person left… Then it will all be over. I promise. Just one more.”
The mirror image gazes down by their feet. Following your instinct, you follow their gaze to your own feet. Lying on the floor is a knife, one used on previous victims. Impulse has you bending down to pick it up.
“Just… One… More…”
-Credited to Vetis
You are still thinking about that one girl right? Well I can give you a trick or two to make her yours…
First, go in a wood near you, a bit before sunset. Carry with you ONLY a fountain pen, a piece of paper, a needle, a strand of hair of the girl, a red candle and a mirror. Don’t bring anything else.
Now you need to find a stump of a tree, don’t worry: there will be one in every wood you go. To do this, light the candle and hold it in one hand, with the other hand close your eyelids and then put the palm of the hand where your heart is. When the candle stops burning you will feel an electric shock and hear the candle burn out. That means it is sunset, so then open your eyes and you will see a tree stump on your right. If it is on your left, it means you have failed and you will be already dead when you notice. If it is on your right take the mirror and you will see a demon in it, the one you would seal a deal with in the ritual. If you don’t see him, then close your eyes again and you will have the tree stump on your right. If you see him then smash the mirror on the tree stump.
Then put the things you have brought on the tree stump and dip the strand of hair of the girl in the candle wax.
After take the pen and the paper and write on the paper the name of the girl, after you did that you have to fold the paper in half and open it again, then take the needle and put a drop of blood from your right index finger on the paper, on the other side, then put the strand of hair on the blood drop and close the paper.
After that you have to say “O, amor qui nobis signa haec multum placet ‘amor aeternus.” and light the candle again, then burn the paper, tricking the spirit that sealed the deal and turning him to ashes, then blow the ashes away and leave the candle to burn out.
The next day the girl you love will try to kiss you. If you don’t kiss her, the spirit, or I should say demon will appear and send you to the underworld. If you accept, the deal is sealed, and you will be in love Forever… Because you wouldn’t want to Dump a Demon right?