Gone

At first I thought it was the wind. Or just the house creaking. It’s an old house. All old houses make strange noises. Especially in the basement. Shuddering, shaking, bellowing, howling echoes up from the basement. But then the noises started to change. They got louder. More like a moan. Different distinct voices. Sometimes moaning, sometimes whispering, but always persistent. In the evenings the moaning got louder, the pitch higher. More desperate. Almost pleading. They wanted to be let out. But who would be crazy enough to open the basement door? My husband. That’s who. I begged him not to. “We could just sell the house and move out”, I said. “That’s a slight overreaction”, he replied. “Have you not watched The Twilight Zone?” I asked. “It could be a portal to an alternate universe.” “You know that science fiction is exactly that - fiction”. And to prove it, he opened the basement door. Just like that. And just like that - the voices stopped. He clicked on the light. The basement flooded with clear warm light. We peered down the steps. Me, terrified, hiding behind my husband. Him, confident and curious. Quite frankly, he deserves to be eaten by aliens. “See…….nothing” And there was nothing. That we could see. It did not rule out the portal to an alternate universe. He closed the basement door and strode off to the fridge for a celebratory beer. He had barely finished trying to twist the top off a non twist-top beer when the voices started again. But they were not moaning. They were screaming. Louder, higher pitched than ever before. The voices were angry, furious. Did we disturb them? How dare we switch on the light? How could we open the door and let in fresh air? Thoughtless. He dropped the beer in the sink. “I’ll save that for later”, he turned around. “I’ll get my phone. We need to record this. It’s just too unbelievable” he said. Now its unbelievable? “Or we could just move out”, I suggested ever so hopefully. “Tonight maybe”. Desperate, angry disembodied voices never bode well. “I need to get down into the basement and properly investigate”, he said. He grabbed his phone (not a gun, or pepper spray or even a sharp stick) and marched military style over to the basement door. He was ready to take on the might of the disembodied voices. Not sure if he is brave, or just stupid. His hand was on the door knob, and the voices reached an ecstasy of screeching, hysterical and shrill. But just as he cracked the door - the voices stopped. He switched on the light, and everything looked and felt normal. As if there had never been any voices. Relief. Perhaps we could just leave the door open and the lights on indefinitely? This could be a really easy solution. But no, stupid husband needs to investigate. He strides down the stairs. Calmly, confidently. I don’t follow. Only one of us needs to be sliced up by the coven camped out in our basement. “Come on down”, he says. “There’s nothing here.” If there is nothing there, there is no need for me to go down. “I’ll protect your back from up here”. I reassure him. I've watched too many horror movies to be talked into going down into a haunted basement. I wait a while, maybe 15 minutes. “Come back up, Sweetie. You must be done by now.” But he doesn’t come back. “Sweetie?” Silence I’m not sure what is worse - disembodied voices screaming behind the basement door, or the silence of a missing husband. I call his phone. Nothing. Switched off. Oh God, what do I do? Go down there? Get the neighbours? Call the police? I absolutely want to call the police. But what would I tell them - my husband is missing. When was the last time you saw him? 15 minutes ago when he went down into the basement. I don’t think they would be falling over themselves to send the SWAT team. I will be lucky if they hang up on me, and spare me the lecture of wasting police time. I get down on my hands and knees, and lean into the stairway of the basement. Not dead yet. I crawl down two stairs and try to contort my neck to see into the basement. No nest of serial killers, time traveling portals, or dead husbands bleeding out on the basement floor. Just nothing but warm, clean light, and a very neat basement. The voices are tidy. I crawl down two more stairs. Maybe he is hidden in a dark corner, or behind boxes. Then I see it. Something scratched in the wall. Not a scratching done by a child, or scraped into the wall by chance. But more like an etching. It's incredibly beautiful, a symmetrical rendering of some sort of symbol. I fumble down the stairs to get a closer look. How long has it been there? I’ve never seen it before. It is circles within circles. Simple, symmetrical, spiritual. Like a map of Stonehenge. I can’t help myself. I know its stupid, but I reach out to touch it. Nothing. Just nothing. I turn around, madly searching the basement for a missing husband. I push aside dusty boxes, peering through the cobwebs covering an old wardrobe. I am desperate, frenzied in my search. But he was gone. I race back up the stairs. I feel justified to call the police, I have a bona fida missing person. I dial my local police station with shaking fingers. “My husband is missing. He has just disappeared into our basement...” A very lovely policeman patiently listens to my story. He asks clarifying questions, he wants descriptions and details. My heart leaps, he cares, I feel he will help. He finally speaks, his voice heavy with compassion and care. “Love, are you sure he just didn’t leave you.” I am confused. The policeman is right, it is an impossible story. But surely not. Perhaps I should go down to the basement for one more look. I turn around and face the basement door. It is shut. The voices are silent. Did I imagine it all? Against all of my earlier misgivings, I am now desperate to get back into the basement. I try to turn the door handle. It is locked. But our basement door does not have a lock. And even if it did, it certainly would not lock from the inside. In that moment, I realise my husband is lost to me. I tape the light switch so no one can ever turn off the light to the basement. Will that appease the voices? I live with hope.