So it had been about two weeks since we moved in to this old heap, and to be honest I was surprised by how much my parents had been able to get done in that two week period. The house looked like it had been lived in for much longer than it actually had, which was good I suppose. I still hated the place, and my parents refused to believe that there was anything weird with the basement door or what lay beyond. Never mind the fact that the key they had for it didn’t work, and that they were in the process of getting a new one from the person who sold us this place.
Which meant no one had been down there yet. Which freaked me out. Like, a lot.
On the other hand though, school was going really well. Well as well as school could go I suppose. Which was to say that school sucked, except for this really pretty girl that made it worth going to; her name was Carla, and she wound up sitting beside me in English class on my first day. While our teacher had droned on and on about Of Mice and Men, we got to talking and found we actually had a lot in common.
She had just moved here with her parents as well, and she was really interested to hear about what we were doing with the house, which I thought was just as boring as Of Mice and Men, but apparently I was wrong because she looked really interested. Ever since then we had been spending most of our time together, which was really cool cause I never really had a girl interested in me before.
I got home a little later than usual, and my parents were delighted to hear I was studying with Carla after school. Yeah I know, it sounds lame but hell she could ask me to stick around and eat dirt and I’d still be late coming home. As I was heading up to my room, I heard a thumping, like someone coming up the stairs.
The Basement.
I looked at my mom, she apparently hadn’t heard anything, and was busily preparing dinner.
“Did we get the key to the basement?” I asked her, and she gave me a strange look.
“No not yet, why?”
“So…dad isn’t down there or anything?”
“Your father doesn’t get home from work for another hour honey, you know that.”
Which meant I was hearing things, or, and this is what I was banking on, this house was seriously messed up.
Despite my better judgment, I went to the basement door. And despite my better judgment, I put my ear to it again and listened.
What I heard will haunt me for the rest of my life.
It was a laugh. Dry and croaky, the voice like sandpaper, but it chuckled, and then I heard the sound of someone descending the stairs, the heavy footsteps making no effort to be quiet.
To say I was scared would be an understatement. That laugh…it chilled me to the bone, playing itself over and over in my mind. I couldn’t take it, I ran again. Despite promising myself that I wouldn’t. I ran all the way up to my room and huddled on my bed like a child, trying to get the laugh out of my head.
There was someone in the Basement. I knew whoever it was had heard me, and for whatever reason, my parents were oblivious. All I could do was hope that key got here soon, and my parents would take care of things. I hated myself for being so scared; after all, boys should be brave. But all I could think of was that laugh, and the sound of that person going back downstairs.
Someone living in our Basement, if only that was all it was.
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