The Cube
“I’ll be there in a minute. Give me a moment to unlock the door- there. Ah, it’s you! Come in, please, come in. Er, may I take your coat? There we go. I’ll be just a moment, I need to grab my tea- oh how rude of me, I forgot you! Would you care for any refreshments? No? Ah well, can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t take food from a strange old man if I were you either. My reputation’s probably not undeserved either. The things I’ve seen, the things that have happened to me, I’d be amazed if there wasn’t at least some truth to what the locals say about me. “Well, you probably didn’t come here to hear an old man ramble on about the local gossip. I’m actually not quite sure why you took me up on my invitation. I’ve debated with myself for some time, as to whether I would follow through with my intentions. But, I am finally settled with my decision, and I’m quite happy for it. I invited you over to hear my story, as a welcoming to the neighborhood for you, seeing as you’ve just moved here, and have no knowledge of your fellow residents here.  Or so it seemed to you, at the time. But for you to find out what in the world I’m talking about, you’re gonna have to listen to what I tell you. Now this is where my tale begins… “16 years ago, on Thursday, November 14 of 1996, I received a package in the mail. I will never forget that day, not even if I am condemned to live as long as God himself. That day marks the beginning of my end… anyway… I proceeded to bring it inside. I should have left the goddamned thing to rot on the porch. I set it down on the counter, noting the odd wrapping, a soft, almost velvety feel to the red colored exterior of the box. Once I had acquired some scissors, I opened the box with relative ease. Inside the box, lay a single, simple cube. It wasn’t very large, it fit right in the palm of my hand, like this, see? In fact, I’ve still got it here- yes, here it is. I don’t want to hold it for a single solitary second, but I need you to see it. I need you to know that this tale I tell is true. You can feel it, can’t you? That little tug on the edge of your mind, that tiny nagging sense of danger that you can’t ignore. You want to hold it? I didn’t think so. Funny, how such a simple object, can have such a foreboding power… “I decided to inspect the cube, analyze it. But to no avail. It was just that, a simple cube. Perhaps the most unique aspect of it was the material it was made of, some kind of sheeny, unmarked stone. I never did find out what it was, just that it’s very light, and incredibly durable. Believe me, the amount of times I tried to destroy that thing in later years, you’d believe it was made from- hell, I don’t know. Any material I know of just seems weak in comparison. The way I see it, it was probably made by God, or by Satan himself. Probably the latter. “Deciding that it was most likely a decorative, though odd, ornament to keep in the house, I set it on a table by the staircase, next to a lamp that had little angels engraved in it’s base. It was a cute little thing, given to me by my daughter and her husband. They knew I was a Christian man, and though she never completely believed, she bought it for me one christmas, and I’d kept it ever since. I give you such a long backstory to this lamp because, as you may have noticed, it is no longer here. “Days went by. In fact, it was two weeks before the first thing that could even be considered odd happened. It was quite a simple thing.
        “The phone rang.
        “Standing up in my study, I walked into the lounge to pick it up, and see who it was, but suddenly it just stopped. I got within five feet of it, and it ceased to make noise. I picked it up, and of course, there was no answer. Just the dial tone. Deciding, it was a wrong number, I thought nothing of it, until it rang again, about five minutes later. This cycle continued, each time with me trying to pick up the phone before it stopped ringing, and each time it quieted right as I was about to pick it up. It wasn’t too long before I decided to see what would happen if i just let it ring, and ignored it. The next time it rang, I just sat in my chair, waiting.
        “It began to increase in volume, sounding more urgent, and demanding attention. Still, I waited. It became louder, and louder, until I felt my ears would burst, and I could bear it no more. Practically running into the lounge, I picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?! Whoever this is, it’s not funny!’ I yelled into the phone.
        “I received no answer. “The phone still rang at inopportune times, albeit less frequently. Usually, it would only happen once, or twice a day, and now I was able to reach the phone, and listen to the sound of the caller. But it refused to give a voice to the escapade. I only ever heard silence on the line. The days moved by, and life went on. However, the following week I noticed something was off. I walked around the house, wondering why I felt as though there was something wrong, but I could not find any indication of anything unusual in the house. I shrugged, and made my way back to the office. The phone rang in it’s abnormal fashion, and I continued the day. “The next day, the feeling was stronger. There was something off in the house, I knew it. I wandered around the house, determined to find the answer as to why I felt like there was something other than me in my house. I must have looked for about an hour. It may seem ridiculous to you, but I was already stressed from the phone, and I did not need another factor to add in to that effect. As I was saying, I walked around for near an hour, before I finally noticed it. Standing in my study, I looked at my desk. It looked normal, but it felt wrong. Then I looked at the legs of the chair on the carpet, and noticed that the legs were a few inches away from some indentations in the carpet that I realized were where the chair legs had been before. It was a few inches off, no more, but it still was confusing. How had it moved? When? Deciding to check other objects in the house, I noticed the same thing. A vase of flowers, stood inches from an elliptical ring of dust where it had previously situated. The trash can in the kitchen, umbrella stand, and even the random items such as books, or cups scattered around the house had moved. They had all moved in seemingly random directions, and I could not understand it. Looking in the direction each object had moved away from, I looked for any pattern at all. What I finally saw, was a point in the main entry room where they all moved away from, as though running from something.  Walking over to the table by the staircase, I noticed that the lamp had moved as well. Then I looked to the left of it. “The only loose thing in the house that had not moved, was the cube. “In that instant, I experienced genuine fear for the first time since I received the cube. Was this the source of my problems? If so, what was it? An unknown force? Some angry spirit? A demon? Being a christian, I did think this might be the case. I immediately changed, and drove to my local church. I went to confession often, and I knew that Father Mathias was there until seven at least. I don’t remember much of the drive, but I imagine I was maniacal on the road. People probably thought I was drunk, I was in such a hurry to get there. My only thoughts consisted of getting to the church, and finding out what the hell was going on. “I made it to the church, usually a fifteen minute drive, in about six minutes. I opened the car door as soon as it was parked, and rushed into the church. Upon entering, I smelled the familiar scent of incense, and the church was well lit, as a new lighting system had been set up last month. I walked from the main lobby into the priest’s office. Father Mathias sat at his desk, reading a book. Not the bible, just an adventure novel. Hearing my footsteps, he looked up, and immediately greeted me. ‘Tom, good evening! How’ve you been? You missed mass last we-‘ ‘I’m actually not doing very well,’ I interrupted. ‘Well, I’m sorry to hear that.’ He sat there with a quizzical look on his face, and a warm smile. ‘You obviously think I can help however, so let’s get to it.’ He beckoned to a chair, and waited expectantly. Sitting down, I began telling him the story of my past few weeks. ‘There’s this thing, a-and it’s making me stressed out, and I-I just don’t know why these other things are happening, and stuff is moving, and-‘ ‘Whoa! Slow down!’ he exclaimed. ‘I can’t understand a word you said. Speak slowly, and calmly.’ I took a deep breath, and I started again. ‘Well, I received a package in the mail a few weeks ago…’ “I sat with the priest for near a half hour, telling my tale. He listened intently, and remained silent. I finished my story, and awaited his input. He seemed tired, and looked forlorn. ‘Tom, you know that we’re both catholic christians. We are not jews, nor do we follow traditions of jews.’ ‘Yes…’ I replied, unsure of where this was headed. ‘Well, though we may differ on beliefs, there are a few things we do acknowledge of Jewish culture. One of these, is a dybbuk.’ ‘A dybbuk?’ I asked curiously. ‘Yes. A dybbuk. Jews believe these beings are restless spirits, or demons. They inhabit certain objects, and bring with them misery and despair. They can even possess living beings. But the most common effect is to put out an aura.’ I had no idea what he was talking about at this point. ‘An aura?’ ‘An aura. It expands, feeding off of the fear of others. In this case, the only thing to fear, is literally fear itself. It will do things to frighten you, make you uneasy, take away your faith. I believe there is a dybbuk in that cube of yours, Tom. And I’m sorry.’ He looked at me with genuine sorrow, the look of a doctor informing a patient that they’re terminal. ‘I truly am. But there is but one way to get rid of it.’ ‘Yes?! What!’ I practically begged him. I didn’t want that thing in my house for another minute. “‘It feeds through fear. As knowledge of it grows, and more people are involved, so does fear. To get rid of the cube, you have to pass on the knowledge and fear to someone else. I wish that I could call upon the Lord for guidance, but… there are things of this world that even He must not interfere with.’
        “I sat there dumbfounded. I had to give someone else this nightmare to end my own? I couldn’t. I drove home, alone in my thoughts that night. What to do? Could I live with myself if I did that to another human being?
        “But could I live at all if I didn’t?
        “I pondered this, and I decided that I would not. I would hold out against this unseen force, and I would not be afraid. I would beat it. It was a brave, but stupid gambit.
        “I arrived home, feeling somewhat confident in my abilities to overcome the dybbuk. I opened the door, hung up my coat, and walked over to the cube. I picked it up, as gingerly as I could, walked to the front door, and threw it out into the night. “I then proceeded into the living room to watch TV. It was not long before I heard the phone ring. Walking over to it with a smile, I picked it up, and heard silence on the other end of the line, the caller refusing to speak. ‘I know what you are,’ I said with a valiant expression. ‘And I want you to know that you won’t win. I have better things to do than be afraid of some weak demon when I have the protection of God.’ I chuckled a little, and then set down the receiver. I began to walk towards the living room.
        “Out of nowhere, a book zipped by my head. It nearly scraped my nose, it was so close.
        “I looked in the direction of where it had come from. It had not flown suddenly, nor had it fallen off of some shelf in some explicit way. It looked like it had been thrown, with some force. But there was nothing in the area where it had been thrown. Just the shadows. Then I realized that sitting on the table next to the area, was the lamp, and the cube. Don’t ask me how it was back, it just was. I did feel fear then, no matter what I’d said before. And I heard something. It was noise that rattled my very spirit, so disturbing. I can’t even begin to describe it in accuracy. The closest thing I can say is that it sounded like bones. Bones, being cracked, and crunched. They grinded against each other, giving way to their song of disturbance. It set my teeth on edge, and I could feel it in my very soul. “Still, I resisted it. It was a war now between me, and the demon. It persisted in its antics, with the calling of the phone, and other objects that would be thrown at me. Many hit me, quite hard. I never gave up. I always pushed through it thinking that it would one day grow tired of me, and move onto someone else. It never did. “One by one, misfortunes happened in my life. A bank account would freeze itself, taking my money with it. My car would break down, often. Personal belongings would go missing. Sometimes, they even happened to my daughter, and I couldn’t help feeling guilty about those. Whenever she had a break-in, or a pet ran away, or her husband was fired from a job, I’d wonder if it was my fault that these things happened to her. I worried so much, she was the only family I had left. “One of the worst experiences I endured, was coming home after a long day of work, to find that the house had been trashed. Cups had been broken, books lay strewn about with their pages floating like confetti. Stepping over the cloudy fluff of a torn open pillow, I made my way over to my precious lamp, now laying on it’s side next to the cube, the position of a soldier who’s finally been shot down. As I picked it up, I noticed that the beautiful carvings of angels that had been engraved on it’s base, had all been chipped away with long scratch marks. It looked as though a wild animal had clawed at the images until they no longer covered the face of the lamp.
        “Once again, the only thing untouched, was the cube. “The phone still rang. I answered it as always. And now, there was the accompany of the mashing bones, always grinding, crackling in my ear from a low quality speaker. But things have gotten worse. I see things. Over the years, I get little flashes of a being, always hidden in the shadows, always with that grinding noise. That, inhuman, chilling, grinding. I see molten flesh, red and blistered from the fires of hell, on hands that grip the edges of doorways. The dry scraping of nails against wood and plaster. This continued for years. I’ve kept the damn thing at bay for almost two decades, but I’ve worn down. I’m getting old, more prone to fear, and I can’t anymore. Every time I see that flash of that thing, I see more and more. And I know, not through logic but I KNOW, that when I eventually see its eyes, and its gaze freezes itself upon me, then I will die. And it will be soon. “Which is why I’ve passed it onto you. I know it tells the truth, it WILL leave me when I spread it. I can share the tale, and after this when I throw the cube, it will crack, and not return when I throw it out into the rain, now just a mere piece of rock, uninhabited by the being which gave it power in the first place. You have a choice now, I’ve made mine. You can’t un-hear this tale, and you can’t un-know the knowledge you have gained. Only you can decide what is the best decision you can make. And with that, I bid you good night. Now leave an old man to his well-deserved peace and quiet.” You quickly make your exit, the old man ushering you outside as quickly as he had welcomed you in. As you drive in the drenching rain, with the windshield wipers quietly making their cleaning rounds, you ponder over what the old man has told you, and wonder as to why he would tell such an odd tale. You laugh it off, writing it off as some crackpot old man’s idea of a prank. Yet, part of you still remains uneasy, and you watch for shadows in your peripheral vision. You quickly exit your car once you’ve parked, and head hurriedly up the walk to your front door, to escape the downpour. You grab your keys, but fumble and drop them. As you look down, you see your keys, resting near a small packaged object. You have mail. Looking at the box, you see no return address. You see no visible tags. But you do see a dark shadow at the edge of your vision, and you hear a noise from inside the house. The phone is ringing. Credit To – The Doctor Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.