Basement Dweller

Basement Dweller

I found a house—what a glorious steal,

No hesitation, I sealed the deal.

A picket fence, so white, so bright,

With shutters that gleamed in the pale moonlight.

The papers were signed, the keys now mine,

I claimed the prize I'd longed to find.

Day by day, I toiled and strained,

To make it gleam like gems unchained.

Four beds, two baths, an attic so high,

Where shadows whisper and breezes sigh.

A living room where echoes play,

A dining hall in dim disarray.

The kitchen stood in silence deep,

As if holding secrets long asleep.

A garage and shed beyond the door,

A home so grand yet promising more.

In a neighborhood that seemed so fine,

Much like the one of my younger time.

A few homes lingered near my own,

With residents quiet, withdrawn, alone.

A few residents dwelled within the shade,

Yet each seemed wrapped in a quiet charade.

Their windows dark, their curtains drawn tight,

Save for one, where a dog barks through the night.

I didn’t mind; let them be as they will,

For I was content in the quiet, still.

No family to miss, no friends to phone,

No pets to claim, not even a stone.

But if I dared to give this place some care,

Perhaps I’d pretend there were voices there.

Imagined laughter in the empty halls,

Phantom calls echoing through silent walls.

Months have passed since this house I claimed,

With shadowed corners yet to be named.

The basement waits, dark and bleak,

A chilling depth where the floorboards creak.

It looms below, with secrets unknown,

The next to conquer in this house I own.

Damp air clings, cold as stone,

As I brace myself to venture alone.

Long days I spent in toil, my hands sore,

Until I found something I could not ignore.

Runes carved deep into cold, gray stone,

Encircling a door, eerie and alone.

A sign above warned in words unclear,

But time had worn them, now lost to fear.

Another room, hidden and not on the list,

Its presence unknown, wrapped in a mist.

I stepped closer, my breath drawn tight,

Reaching the handle in flickering light.

It shocked my hand, like a winter’s vice,

For its touch was bitter, cold as ice.

I turned the knob and pushed the door,

It groaned aloud, like a long-held sore.

Cold wind rushed past, as if to flee,

Like it had been trapped for eternity.

I gathered my wits and stared within,

Into darkness deeper than night’s own sin.

A void so black, it swallowed the light,

Yet still, I stepped in, steeling my might.

A staircase downward greeted my gaze,

No walls, no ceiling in that shadowed haze.

I took three steps into the dark,

And felt the world around me stark.

The basement lingered, silent and cold,

But familiar sounds were no longer bold.

No hum of fans, no pipes' soft moan,

Just a silence that chilled to the bone.

Yet silence was not—my soul’s sound I heard,

My heart's pulse strong, my blood unblurred.

I shone my light, searching around,

But darkness prevailed, an abyss unbound.

Then came a thought, a desperate plan,

I’d drop the flashlight, see where it lands.

I took a breath and let it go,

Watched it fall, its beam aglow.

Down it tumbled, a dozen feet,

Then vanished, without sound or retreat.

No thud below, no fading gleam,

Just swallowed whole, like a haunted dream.

I stepped back fast and shut the door,

Not one for ghosts, I’d tempt no more.

I braced the door, left it alone,

Hoping its secrets would stay unknown.

I finished my work and called it a day,

Enjoyed the night, then hit the hay.

But sleep eluded me, tossing all night,

A nagging sense that all wasn’t right.

I woke to a sight that made me pause,

My front door swinging without a cause.

Curious indeed, for I’d checked the lock,

It held firm before bed, like solid rock.

Then a creaking sound broke the eerie air—

The basement door, ajar, with a chilling glare.

I know I’d shut it, latched it tight,

Yet now it swayed in the light.

A cold thought crept through my spine,

One I couldn’t shake or leave behind.

I rushed downstairs with urgent tread,

Dreading the sight that lay ahead.

The barricade in shambles, torn apart,

And there it stood—an open door, grim and stark.

It swayed like the others, slow and wide,

As if some dark force lingered inside.

I closed the door, braced it tight once more,

And took a breath on that shadowed floor.

In the dim light, I caught a sight—

Deep gouges scratched by a creature's might.

Not mere scratches, but marks so clear,

Made by claws of strength, not ghostly fear.

"No ghoul or spirit," I tried to say,

"Perhaps a beast had found its way."

I shook my head, sought reason’s aid,

Assuring myself I’d been mislaid.

With haste, I barred it with wood and iron,

To keep at bay what lurked in the mire.

The day passed slow, in silent dread,

The doors unmoving, the fears unsaid.

I lay to rest, but sleep was thin,

Not for the beast, but the dog’s din.

Night after night, its barking was shrill,

Echoing through the darkness still.

Just one night of peace was all I craved,

But quiet never came, not once was I saved.

Then one night, near midnight’s chime,

The barking ceased for the very first time.

No whimper, no growl, no gradual end—

Just silence abrupt, as if death did descend.

I woke rested, refreshed at last,

The best sleep I’d had in months gone past.

But joy was fleeting, the moment was brief,

For what I found filled me with grief.

I swallowed hard, my heart in fear,

The doors again were scratched and near.

But that was not all, not even the worst—

For in the hall lay a dark, crimson curse.

Blood smeared thick, a winding trail,

From the front door down to the basement’s veil.

The cause of silence now revealed,

A sinister truth, no longer concealed.

Unsure and trembling, I cleaned the floor,

Then called the cops to settle the score.

Two arrived, with doubtful eyes,

"What's going on?" came their replies.

I told my tale, one gave a grin,

The other looked grave, unsure within.

One officer stepped to the basement's maw,

The other stayed with me, his face in awe.

Down the steps, the first one crept,

While I and the second silently kept.

Three steps in, then came a slam—

The door shut tight, as if by command.

We raced to open the door in haste,

But the cop was gone, not a trace.

We called his name, our voices thin,

Yet darkness swallowed every din.

The other cop, once smug and bold,

Now panicked, with his blood gone cold.

He fled upstairs, rushed out the door,

The sun had set, the moon did soar.

Snow began to fall, silent and white,

But the cop cared not in his frantic flight.

Not a word was spoken as he sped away,

His tires screeching in disarray.

I waited for backup, news crews too,

For someone to ask what was true.

But minutes turned to hours that bled,

And hours to days of dread-filled stead.

After three days, I’d need no proof,

No help would come, no truth nor sleuth.

Each night, I locked the doors with care,

Yet each dawn I found them open, bare.

Then one dusk, as the sun grew faint,

A figure appeared, dark as paint.

It stood at the road, eyes locked on me,

And all I could do was stare back silently.

Seven feet tall, with a cloak tattered and black,

It stood with claws that glimmered back.

No eyes, no face, just a shadowed form,

Yet I felt its gaze, cold and warm.

Then clear as day, to my dismay,

A razored grin began to sway.

Its teeth gleamed sharp in the twilight's gleam,

Before it faded, a nightmare unseen.

The town was fading, shadows cast,

Its residents vanishing fast.

The neighboring homes once quietly filled,

Now stood empty, cold, and still.

Perhaps a priest or father was due,

Maybe they held the answers I knew.

I made for the church, but on the way,

A sight stopped me, causing dismay.

A car stood frozen on the side of the road,

Covered in snow, where silence slowed.

It had crashed against a tree's old bark,

I knew it well—it was the police car from the dark.

Empty inside, no soul in sight,

But dark stains lingered in the pale moonlight.

I pressed onward, reached the church door,

Where an old man waited, his eyes filled with lore.

The priest sat there, weary and worn,

I approached him with a heart forlorn.

“What brings you here, my poor child?”

He asked with a grin, both calm and mild.

I shared my tale; he nodded slow,

As if he’d heard it long ago.

"So that's where the townsfolk have gone," he said,

With a knowing look and a solemn head.

He took his book and rose to his feet,

“Lead me now, let’s make haste, no retreat.”

In less than an hour, we reached the door,

The hidden entrance I'd seen before.

He examined the sign, now weathered and weak,

Then sighed deeply, words low and bleak.

He whispered chants that glowed bright blue,

His eyes ablaze with a mystical hue.

“Follow me!” he called, voice strong and clear,

And I had no choice but to persevere.

We entered the dark and began our descent,

Into the depths where the shadows went.

I held my breath, awaiting the end,

But no terror came as we did descend.

Past the third, the fourth, then fifty steps more,

In darkness so thick, like a cavernous shore.

No light ahead, just an endless night,

With five steps visible, faint in sight.

We walked for what seemed like hours to me,

Until we reached the bottom—what a sight to see.

A sea of bones, all picked clean and bare,

Scattered below with a deathly air.

I turned slowly, no end in sight,

Lost in this wasteland of forgotten blight.

But when I turned back, the priest was gone,

No blue hue left, not a single dawn.

I stepped back, wary, to the stair’s cold tread,

Searching the dark for the creature I dread.

Then came the sounds—crunching and tearing,

His fate sealed in that dark, despairing.

I fled up the stairs, heart pounding with fear,

Desperate to escape what lingered near.

"This can’t be real," I thought in fright,

But a bone in my shoe proved the night.

I packed my things, fled far away,

Driving hours until a city’s gray.

A hotel offered a sense of reprieve,

Among the crowds, I felt a brief relief.

But as I lay down, turning off the light,

A cold dread crept in—something wasn’t right.

I felt its eyes, piercing and near,

Just like before, filled with seething leer.

I refused to move, refused to see,

Yet I felt the blanket pulled from me.

A thin, sharp touch grazed my neck’s bare skin,

Its anger clear, its patience thin.

It seethed that I’d left, abandoned its lair,

Its wrath was near, dark and unfair.

It was merciless, its rage unbound,

But I knew it lingered, silent and profound.

It waited, craving my fearful gaze,

As if my recognition would seal my final days

But I did not turn; my pen took flight,

These words now penned, in desperate fright.

Now you know the story of what I’ve faced,

And the darkness I could not erase.

I pause my pen, my hand now still,

And turn to meet my fate, against my will.