Nothing's Down There

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
There's something in the basement. Below the house. Hiding in the darkness.

Submitted: April 18, 2012

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Submitted: April 18, 2012

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A A A


 

Every day, my mom tells me to walk down to the basement to get something.  Something different every day, but still, something.  “Grab your father a beer,” she’ll say.

“Get the laundry,” she’ll say.

She doesn’t do it to be mean. She’s ignorant.  She doesn’t know that something’s down there.  Watching me.  I don’t know what it is.  I don’t know if it’s a murderer, a ghost, or even a demon.  All I know is that something is down there.

How do I prove that I’m in danger? Well, maybe I’m not.  Maybe the thing is too much of a coward to attack.  But that’s not really calming.  I want it gone.  Forever.

The eyes.  They haunt me in my dreams.  At night, when I go to bed, I imagine they’re around me.  In my closet.  In my drawers.  In my desk.  I can’t escape.

How do I run from something that doesn’t exist?  I can’t.

My brother feels it too.  He senses that something’s wrong.  That something malevolent is down there.  Why don’t my parents understand? We try.  We try to explain how the basement’s dark.  How it’s evil.  We tell them that something is lurking down there.  Waiting for an opportunity.  “An opportunity for what?” they’ll say.

I don’t know.

How do I destroy it? I could shoot it with my father’s gun.  I could light the house on fire.  I could flood the basement.  These things won’t kill it.  It’s invincible.

Ha.  Invincible? Like Superman, right?  No.  Invincible like the Plague, slowly creeping up and you can’t stop it.  Invincible like poison gas, reaching its invisible tendrils and choking you.  Invincible like a bullet already shot, making you wait those last painful seconds until you die. 

I walk down there.  I turn on all the lights.  I search all the corners.  There’s nothing there.

But, there must be something. I can feel it. I can sense it.  It’s all around me.  Maybe I’ve watched too many movies.  A serial killer hiding in my basement? Not likely.

Then, there’s a creak.  It’s behind me. But, what is it?  I don’t want to see.  I don’t want the knowledge.  Please, can I be ignorant?  I don’t want to find out what it is. 

It grabs me.  The arms.  They’re cold.  Unforgiving.  Firm. 

I just stand there.  I’m not scared.  I knew that it, or he, or she, was going to come eventually.  Do I want to see what it is?  No. 

I close my eyes slowly.  But it turns me around.  It pushes my eyelids open.  Not unkindly.  I have to look.  Now I have no choice.  It’s in control.  But I don’t look into its eyes. Something tells me I can’t. 

The music starts playing.  Leaking from the walls.  The lights.  The ceiling.  It’s a violin playing.  A slow, teasing tune.  The thing guides my hands to its shoulders and we start dancing.  The music quickens and so does our dancing.  The violin.  Faster.  Faster.  I twirl gracefully.  I lean into a dip.  I grasp its hand tighter.

The thing.  It isn’t evil.  I look into its eyes.  I gasp.

  I know those eyes. They’re the same eyes that haunt me in my dreams.  The same eyes that are in my closet.  In my drawers.  In my desk.  The same eyes I can never escape from. 

The eyes.  They’re full of power.  It intensifies.  The violin stops.  We stop dancing.

I blink. Once.  Twice.  My heart beats.  Once.  Twice.  Then, it all stops.

I knew something was down there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every day, my mom tells me to walk down to the basement to get something.  Something different every day, but still, something.  “Grab your father a beer,” she’ll say.

“Get the laundry,” she’ll say.

She doesn’t do it to be mean. She’s ignorant.  She doesn’t know that something’s down there.  Watching me.  I don’t know what it is.  I don’t know if it’s a murderer, a ghost, or even a demon.  All I know is that something is down there.

How do I prove that I’m in danger? Well, maybe I’m not.  Maybe the thing is too much of a coward to attack.  But that’s not really calming.  I want it gone.  Forever.

The eyes.  They haunt me in my dreams.  At night, when I go to bed, I imagine they’re around me.  In my closet.  In my drawers.  In my desk.  I can’t escape.

How do I run from something that doesn’t exist?  I can’t.

My brother feels it too.  He senses that something’s wrong.  That something malevolent is down there.  Why don’t my parents understand? We try.  We try to explain how the basement’s dark.  How it’s evil.  We tell them that something is lurking down there.  Waiting for an opportunity.  “An opportunity for what?” they’ll say.

I don’t know.

How do I destroy it? I could shoot it with my father’s gun.  I could light the house on fire.  I could flood the basement.  These things won’t kill it.  It’s invincible.

Ha.  Invincible? Like Superman, right?  No.  Invincible like the Plague, slowly creeping up and you can’t stop it.  Invincible like poison gas, reaching its invisible tendrils and choking you.  Invincible like a bullet already shot, making you wait those last painful seconds until you die. 

I walk down there.  I turn on all the lights.  I search all the corners.  There’s nothing there.

But, there must be something. I can feel it. I can sense it.  It’s all around me.  Maybe I’ve watched too many movies.  A serial killer hiding in my basement? Not likely.

Then, there’s a creak.  It’s behind me. But, what is it?  I don’t want to see.  I don’t want the knowledge.  Please, can I be ignorant?  I don’t want to find out what it is. 

It grabs me.  The arms.  They’re cold.  Unforgiving.  Firm. 

I just stand there.  I’m not scared.  I knew that it, or he, or she, was going to come eventually.  Do I want to see what it is?  No. 

I close my eyes slowly.  But it turns me around.  It pushes my eyelids open.  Not unkindly.  I have to look.  Now I have no choice.  It’s in control.  But I don’t look into its eyes. Something tells me I can’t. 

The music starts playing.  Leaking from the walls.  The lights.  The ceiling.  It’s a violin playing.  A slow, teasing tune.  The thing guides my hands to its shoulders and we start dancing.  The music quickens and so does our dancing.  The violin.  Faster.  Faster.  I twirl gracefully.  I lean into a dip.  I grasp its hand tighter.

The thing.  It isn’t evil.  I look into its eyes.  I gasp.

  I know those eyes. They’re the same eyes that haunt me in my dreams.  The same eyes that are in my closet.  In my drawers.  In my desk.  The same eyes I can never escape from. 

The eyes.  They’re full of power.  It intensifies.  The violin stops.  We stop dancing.

I blink. Once.  Twice.  My heart beats.  Once.  Twice.  Then, it all stops.

I knew something was down there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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