This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Kronos_Kardigan on 2026-05-30 04:03:27+00:00.

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Stop me if you have heard this before; “I got this game cartridge from a garage sale and there is this cursed game character in it; realistic eyes, realistic screams, realistic blood.”

Yup. Hear that all the time. Scared children are my usual clientele.

Possession of objects and locations happen when a ghost wants to stay on Earth. The soul cannot live by itself, it needs a host. And since the body is dead they have to attach themselves to an object. The most popular possessed objects you know are dolls, mirrors, and houses, but any object can be possessed by a ghost. Game cartridges, porno DVDs, lamps, laptops, Barbie dolls. You name it, someone’s in it.

A common misconception is that all haunted objects are violent; that they want to scare you, take your soul, eat you alive or whatever. That’s mostly dependent on the person. Nine times out of ten the object is possessed by an scared old lady who wants someone to talk to, maybe a child who died from tuberculosis or a guy who hanged themself. I have a cat clock that loves to play bridge. I keep the more aggressive objects at the back of my shop, under lock and key.

People buy stuff sometimes, mostly daredevils and Youtubers. Sometimes people want to buy their personal blood-thirsty ghost but I urge against it. If they buy it anyway I give them a small prayer and let them be. Not my fault if they die, they signed a verbal contract to not sue me.

I must be boring you. There’s nothing much that happens in a haunted thrift shop. Let’s talk about my regular customer, the Devil. Or a devil. They never explained.

One night in the middle of summer, I was sitting at my counter, the last hour before I closed, when a bald woman shambled in. She was basically bones, her eyes and cheeks sunken so deep I could count her teeth through her skin. I welcomed her, she didn’t reply, she just slowly limped through the store, looking at all the front store items.

An hour passed and it was time to close up shop. It was quiet, like nobody was ever there. I remembered that there was a woman in the store and I looked around for her. When I found her at the tech section she was talking, whispering, to a young man. Skinny, tall, brunette, non-descript. I don’t remember another person being in here so I came up to her.

“Hey, store’s closing.”

They both turned to me and when I blinked they disappeared, the only sound the shattering of a tube tv. I rushed to the camera footage behind the counter and they’re simply gone. No glitch, no buffer, not even a swing of a door. With nothing left to do I closed up shop and locked the doors.

The next morning I brought the tv to the back shed, I checked if it’s still possessed. I used the EMF reader, I used a ouija board, I used that radio thing, nothing. Empty. Curious, I went through my book of dead people, all the profiles of who is in what object. I checked for tube tv number two and I found the guy she was talking to. A crackhead who died on his couch, skinny, tall, brunette.

I had a slight idea of what was going on but I couldn’t confirm it. A year later, she came back, same skull, same teeth, same time. I had a photo of her from the video camera, and put her up on the list of “Watch out for” clients. I followed her through the store as she was looking at clocks, rocks, everything.

“Curious?” She said,

“Any reason to be?”

“No need to hide anything from you. You won’t understand.”

At that point she called a name and an old woman appeared behind me. She walked through me, slow with curiosity. Her head was caved at the back, a dry cavern of red flesh, bits of skull. The lady whispered, some mutterings I couldn’t understand, and the old lady listened intently, nodding her head.

“What the hell you doing?” I shouted.

“Follow me?” The lady said to the old woman.

The woman looked at me then back at her, she nodded and they shook hands. In a blink they vanished, the Santa cookie jar shattered. I checked, old lady with a shotgun.

This dance continued on, the lady comes in yearly, makes a deal with a soul, and leaves. I followed her, talked with her. She won’t tell me her name, what she’s doing, she just does her thing and leaves. One year I got tired of losing merchandise so I told her; “If you're gonna break it, you're gonna pay for it.” The next year she dropped two gold coins. I got them appraised, they were drachmas. They cost one thousand dollars, per piece. While it was nice, I’m a fair lady. Next time she came I told her to just give me cash, it would be easier that way. And she did, at the right price too, fifty dollars for a wrist watch.

We had a good long relationship after that. She does her thing, I get paid. She gets good items too, expensive ones. She’s basically my number one regular.

This year, I asked her a question.

“When I die and possess something, will you finally tell me what you're doing with those souls?”

She chuckled and answered, “When you die I will take you.”

I accepted that offer. I shook her hand and she went to do her business.

This message is to my niece, who will inherit my store;

When I die, I will possess grandma’s vase, the jade one with the golden dragons on it. You will put me on the counter and reserve it for her. Don’t give me to anyone else. You will know her when you see her; bald, white, so skinny you can count her teeth. You don’t need to stay for it, you can even leave the counter. Tell her I cost fifty thousand dollars, she’ll pay.