Brass Vase

The Brass Vase is a scary story about a guy who gets a strange letter from his friend, asking him to do her a very special favor. It’s based on a story written by thoughtpod.

A few days ago, I received a very strange letter from my best friend, Julia.

“Jason, I need you to do something for me tonight. It’s very, very important that you do it exactly as I ask. You’re probably going to think that this is all crazy, but please just humor me. Maybe we can laugh about all this, if I ever come back.

Do you remember the brass vase that I found half-buried in the forest? The one with the odd markings engraved on it? I need you to go to my apartment and get it.

First, I need you to get a black marker and draw two eyes on the palms of your hands. Make sure the pupils are in the middle of each palm.

Then I need you to go to my apartment. Bring a bag and a candle with you. When you get to the apartment, it will be dark. Don’t turn the lights on. Use the candle to light your way.

When you enter my bedroom, you may hear a the sound of whispering. You won’t know where it’s coming from. Don’t let it freak you out. Just ignore it. Don’t let it convince you of anything. Just remember, everything it says is a lie.

You’ll find the brass vase sitting on the dresser. Make sure you pick it up with both hands at once. Make sure the eyes on both your palms are touching the brass. If you feel something touching you, just ignore it. None of it can hurt you.

Tip the brass vase over, until all the blood has drained out. Make sure you drain it until there is not even one drop left in it. Whatever you do, don’t look inside it. For God’s sake, don’t put your fingers inside it. Just drop it into the bag and leave.

Take it away and get rid of it. Put it somewhere no one will ever find it.

I’m sorry I have to ask you to do this, Jason, but you’re the only person I can trust. If I’d known then what I know now, none of this would ever have happened.

If everything goes well, I’ll see you soon.

All my love, Julia.”

It was signed in her usual flourish. I didn’t know quite what to make of it. Was she joking? Was it some sort of prank? I decided to call her and find out. Her phone rang a dozen times, but there was no answer. Then her answering machine kicked in.

“Julia here,” the recorded voice said. “Please leave a message.”

“Hi Julia,” I said after the beep. “I know it’s late, but could you give me a call? That letter you sent kind of creeped me out and I just wanted to check that you were OK.”

I heard a faint, muffled, “Help me.”

I froze and almost dropped my cell phone.

“Julia?” I yelled. “Is that you? What’s wrong?”

“Help me,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper. The buzzing on the line had grown louder. “frightened I’m frightened I’m frightened I’m frightened I’m frightened I’m” The buzzing was drowning out her voice completely.

“Julia,” I yelled. “What happened?”

The line went dead and I stared at my phone, her words echoing in my head.

I tried to call her back, but the line was busy. I found a candle and a bag, grabbed my car keys and left the house. I kept trying to call her all the way over to her apartment, but there was no answer.

I parked outside and when I got to the door of her apartment, I put the key in the lock and opened it. Inside, it was as dark as dark could be. I reached in and was about to flick the light switch, when I remembered the instructions in the letter.

Don’t turn on the lights.

I took out the candle instead and, after lighting it, I walked into the apartment. The flickering flame cast weird shadows on the walls.

“Julia?” I whispered.

There was a musty smell in the air. Something felt wrong and the closer I came to Julia’s bedroom, the more wrong it felt. I put my hand on the knob and opened the door.

That’s when the whispering started. It was faint and it sounded like many voices, all whispering in unison. I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

lights turn on the lights turn on the lights turn on the

It was very dark.

lights turn on the lights turn on the lights turn on the

I had to resist the urge to turn on the lights.

lights turn on the lights turn on the lights turn on the

It was very hard to resist.

The brass vase was sitting on the dresser, just as Julia said it would be. It had a squat body with a long, thin neck and an opening just large enough for two fingers to fit in.

I grabbed it carefully with both hands at once. It felt warm to the touch.

All of a sudden, the candle flickered and went out. I was plunged into darkness. It was pitch black. The whispering grew louder and louder.

That was when I remembered the instructions Julia had given me in her letter. The eyes on the palms of my hands. I had forgotten to draw them.

“There’s nothing I can do about it now,” I thought.

I tilted the vase and in the darkness, I could hear the spilling out on the floor. The room filled with the stench of copper.

I don’t know how long I stood there. Perhaps a minute. Maybe even an hour. I listened to the drip, drip, drip, and when it stopped, so did the whispering.

It was deathly quiet. All of a sudden, I realized how frightened I was. A wave of maddening fear washed over me and I just wanted to be sick. I had never been so terrified in all my life.

Dropping the vase into my bag, I left the apartment as fast as possible and went back to my car. I took out my cell phone and with shaking hands, I called Julia again. There was no answer.

All of a sudden, I felt a strange tingling in the palms of my hands. Then the whispering started again. It was all around me, surrounding me, going down on me.

I was driving towards the bridge, intent on throwing the brass vase over the side and getting rid of it that way. The whispering told me not to. It told me to turn around and go home. I obeyed. I took the brass vase home.

Each time it starts, it starts like this. First, there’s whispering. Sometimes it’s many voices at once. Sometimes it’s only one. Sometimes it sounds like my mother. Sometimes it sounds like Julia.

I always understand what they are saying.

Sometimes, they say, “feed us feed us feed us feed us feed us”

Sometimes, they say, “turn on the lights turn on the lights turn on the lights”

Sometimes they say other things… things I don’t want to repeat.

The whispering gets louder and louder and I find myself powerless to resist.

I prick my finger with a knife and hold it over the vase, squeezing the blood into its gaping mouth. This is how it feeds.

I’m a prisoner of the brass vase now. Day and night, I keep must it filled to the brim. I’m weaker than I’ve ever been in my life, but I can’t let it get hungry. It doesn’t like it when it’s hungry.

Maybe I’m just going mad. Maybe my mind has snapped. But that means I’m not insane, doesn’t it? I mean only a lunatic would consider himself sane. If you were sane enough to question your sanity, then you wouldn’t be insane any more, would you?

The whispering has started again. The vase is almost full now. Maybe this time the blood will satisfy it. Maybe this time it won’t demand any more.

I made one fatal mistake. I forgot to draw the eyes on the palms of my hands.

Julia, if you read this, I need to tell you something. I’m glad you’re free now. I’m sorry I failed to follow your instructions. If I ever manage to escape, I’ll find you, wherever you are and maybe we can have a big laugh about how crazy all of this is.