MATT'S JOURNAL: 31/10/22
The following is not actually a journal entry of my own, but a transcript from a diary that was handed to me at a gig. I don’t know who this belonged to, only that it was given to me by a mysterious bald man who wore a suit and did not speak. Still, I’m very intrigued that someone wrote such a grisly account of their dealings with Doomsday Sun, though I can’t say I remember any of these events happening. Maybe it all took place during “the fever”.
* *
One summer a few years back, I got my first real job as a landscaper one town over. It was a few hundred miles away, and it meant I’d have to relocate, but I didn’t mind too much; my hometown was boring as hell and I wasn’t too fussed about the inevitable spinal trauma. The job itself was ok; the hours were long, but the pay wasn’t bad and it was nice to use other people’s toilets.
Anyway, none of that has anything to do with the rest of the story. One weekend, I was walking through my neighbourhood when I saw that there was a garage sale going on. It was the usual stuff; families selling old sports gear, disused kitchen appliances, deeds to houses in Stoke-On-Trent in the UK, but a few tables down, standing all alone was a man all on his own. He was dressed in a smart business suit, was totally bald and only had one eye, and was stood there with a completely stoic expression on his face. He gave off a very dangerous vibe, so naturally I approached him with gusto. At his table were the oddest things for sale; a number of housebricks joined together with mortar, a collection of different-coloured pocket lint and a random pile of circuit boards. What caught my eye though, was an old cassette tape with no cover, but scrawled on the front in marker pen was “Doomsday Sun Album #0”. This filled me excitement; I didn’t know of an album zero, in fact, I didn’t know Doomsday Sun had an album. IN FACT, I didn’t even know who Doomsday Sun were! I asked the strange dude how much he wanted for it, but he didn’t answer, so I took out a 5-dollar bill, rolled it up, stuck it in his empty eye socket, took the tape and left.
Now, I may have recently moved house, but if there was one item I made sure to take with me to my new place, it was my antiquated tape player that hadn’t been used in decades. I sat on my mattress on the floor looking at this mysterious tape. No track listing, no artwork, not even a list of members. The contents of this tape were a complete mystery. Creepypastas has been around since 2008 or so, and I knew the likelihood that this tape would mentally or even physically scar me would be high, so naturally I popped it in and hit play. There was probably 10-15 seconds of near silence, only the sound of the machine whirring and a bit of static could be heard, until the song began. It was, as I expected, very typically Doomsday Sun; that is to say; a British Celtic Frost. Deliberate, pounding bass and drums, fuzzy guitars playing a different riff every 6 seconds and “kidney-stone expulsion-like" vocals. Halfway through the song, the pitch seemed to drop. This struck me as odd, but I just put it down to a bit of tape warping. Then during, the guitar solo, my television weirdly started to flicker into life, and what I saw shocked me. It was an image of Rich, the bass player, but in hyperealistic detail, like you could see every single hair in great clarity on his mutton chops. This shocked me; how had the televison turned itself on? Why was Rich on it? And whose television was this, as I don’t own one? I stared at the image, but noticed it was actually a moving video; Rich had a stern look on his face that creeped me out, and then he raised a vape to his lips and took a drag. When he blew the vapor out, it actually came into the room, and the smell of it nearly made me sick; it smelt like rotting corpses. As the song ended, the TV switched itself off again, and all was still and silent again. I was so confused and shocked and felt a feeling of dread. But I was also curious, and that trumped my sense of self-preservation apparently, so I kept listening.
The next song was different; it began with a melancholy guitar riff that sounded a bit like the Lavender Town theme from Pokemon Red and Blue, but in the background there was another noise; someone was crying, really crying, like agonised, painful sobbing. Between the sobs, they were trying to speak. I couldn’t make it out at first, but as I listened, it grew louder, until I heard him say “HM-2”. He was saying HM-2 over and over again, in a depressed tone as depressed as a man who was suffering from severe depression. It was then I realised that this was Tom, the drummer; I recognized his voice as he’s the one who makes all The Simpsons references during the songs. This went on for a few seconds longer until the guitar was drowned out by the sound of a chainsaw starting up, and then screaming. Abruptly, the song ended, and all was silent again.
I was shocked and felt a feeling of dread. Had they killed Tom in the studio? This album definitely wasn’t normal for Doomsday Sun, but I couldn’t get over the feeling I had just heard a man be killed. I wanted to stop, take the tape out and burn it, but my sense of curiosity overwhelmed me. I was willing to possibly die for this strange album from an unsigned British metal band.
The next song began. It sounded like the band were jamming for a bit, when one-by-one the instruments all went silent. A couple of seconds of silence passed, then I jumped as a man began shouting. This was definitely Matt, the guitarist & vocalist. He was just screaming “LONG-LIFE UHT” over and over and over again. The song was still going on when I heard a knock at my door. I jumped, then told myself to stop being such a dicknipple; it was just a coincidence right? Before I could open it though, the door burst open, and there was Matt himself. He was wearing a smart business suit, but something was different about him; his eyes were empty sockets, with blood coming from them.
“Good evening!” he bellowed, at the top of his voice. “We are Doomsday Sun, and you are going to DIE”
It was then that he grabbed the top of his hair and pulled it away from his scalp, to reveal that he was totally bald. It was then that I realised he was the man who had sold me this album in the first place. He took out a knife and stabbed me, and I watched him eat my guts as I died.
I’m writing this from beyond the grave, which ghosts can do, I’ve found out, to warn you all; never listen to Doomsday Sun Album #0. If you see the bald man with no eyes, walk away. If you see the cassette tape with no cover, just don’t play it, and never answer the door to Matt from Doomsday Sun.