?I found tapes made my great-grandfather in his basement?

?I found tapes made by my great-grandfather in his basement?
My great-grandfather was an odd man--extremely so. He never liked being around people who weren?t family. I have fond memories with him? but I?ll always remember the one rule at his home:
Stay out of the basement.
It happened when I was 14; I was becoming rebellious, and I was tired of being told what to do. And most importantly, I wanted to know what was in the basement.
So, one night, while spending the night, I decided to investigate while he slept.
As I tip-toed down the stairs, I cringed as there was an audible creak when I hit the last step. I paused, trying to listen for the tell-tale sound of my great-grandfather waking up. I exhaled in relief when I was only met with dead silence.
I crept toward the kitchen, my flashlight lit in preparation.
On the kitchen bar sat today?s newspaper from the local gazette. I slowly opened the basement door, eyeing the darkness.
As I reached the bottom, I looked around. Around me were desks piled with papers. On one lone desk sat 5 tapes and a lone tape player.
I looked at one of the papers, and blinked upon spotting the US military logo on it, titled: ?Project Untote? The date on the paper read August 5th, 1942.
The rest of the paper--and all the other ones--were in some sort of code, made up of dashes and pluses.
So I set my eyes on the tapes, which seemed to be in order. Lined up. The first one?s label read ?TAPE I OF V?. Curiosity getting the best of me, I examined the tapes.
They seemed to be standard Maxell tapes.
With all that done, I inserted the tape and pressed play. My great-grandfather?s voice emerged,
?It is my greatest in life. What we did was an unholy act against humanity itself, which we all deserve to burn in hell for. The word Untote is german for ?living dead?. We? we wanted to create soldiers who would rise after being fatally shot and simply go back to killing the nazis? Until their heads had been blasted off, or they had been blown to smithereens, of course.
And who was I in all this? I was the man who shot all the test subjects dead before the scientists began testing. Shooting down innocents? The homeless people we?d gather off the streets, criminals who had no chance of parole. I had to shoot them all dead. I? I was so sure I?d get used to hearing them scream in agony; I was wrong. To this day, I can still hear their screams when I try to sleep at night. I hear their agony, I hear their begging. So, what happened to them after I shot them dead? I never knew? Until one day, when they briefed me on what this was all about, and? and that they had finally succeeded. And they wanted me to shoot it, to see if it was killable. So, they told me to go to the testing chamber. All the while, I had a bad feeling about it all. Did it remember? Could it even FEEL? Did it remember me taking its life?
I came to a locked military-grade door. The scientists nearby pulled some levers, opening the door. Inside sat a man, or what once was a man, struggling with his bindings, grunting and growling like an animal. I was barely able to recognize it as a living being, it looked more like a corpse. But what struck me first, after getting closer to him, were the wires, leading to two metal spikes planted directly into his head. The wires led to an electric switch built into the wall. A voice suddenly spoke from the nearby speaker, I recognized the voice as the director of this entire project, Joseph Bellows.
?Shoot the subject? I blinked, having shortly forgotten my orders while looking at the thing. ?SHOOT the subject.? he growled, seeming to grow even more impatient. With that, I pulled out my weapon? and I shot him with my assault rifle. But this time, he didn?t even scream. He? he screeched like some sort of banshee. But eventually, the thing finally went limp and silent. I could almost feel the relief of the scientists. ?All right, your work is do--? Suddenly, the thing began to screech once more, and broke its bindings. I gasped, running through the door; shutting it as the scientists pulled the levers, locking the door with a loud clunk.?
And with all that said, the tape ended with a click that seemed to echo through the silent room. I...I didn?t know what to think. What the hell did they do to make that thing? This couldn?t be real, this had to be a hoax of some sort. Seeing the ajared closet door, I opened the door and switched on the light; expecting to find my great-grandfather laughing, this all being a hoax he?s planned for years. Nothing could, or would ever, prepare me for what I saw in that closet. My great-grandfather hanging from a noose.


Source.