The Basement

The Basement

“So does the house pass inspection?” 

The inspector looked up with hollow eyes at the real estate agent, his breaths coming in shaky exhales. Everything had been fine until he’d decided to end off by checking the basement. The first red flag was when he had to pry off the wooden boards keeping the door nailed shut. Next, came the old lock that had to be broken with a crowbar. 

He’d finally ventured down the stairs, flashlight in hand. At first glance, everything seemed fine. It was just a regular basement—low-hanging pipes, a cracked stone foundation, and the faint scent of mildew. Then he noticed how unnaturally cold it was, the kind of cold that seeped through his clothes and tightened around his bones. The musty air carried something acrid, something rotten.

The sun was beginning to set when he found them.

Scratch marks marred the walls beneath the staircase, deep and erratic, as though someone had tried clawing their way out. Streaks of dried blood ran along the wooden steps, and beneath them lay broken fingernails, brittle and yellowed with age. Something metallic lingered in the air, a whisper of decay that had long since settled into the foundation. It wasn’t until after he called the police that he caught a glimpse of what else lurked in the basement.

He was just glad he got out when he did.

***

“What do you mean you won’t go down?” the real estate worker yelled incredulously to the police officer. 

“Sir, I know you’re not from around here but this is a small town so let me explain a few things to you. First, no one goes down the basement after dark at Filch house. Second, the only thing I can do for you is put a lock on this door. You’ve already got it inspected, no need to venture down again.”

“What kind of cops are you! How the hell do you expect me to sell the place?” 

“Goodluck,” the officer called back, getting into his car and driving away. 

The real estate agent ran his hands through his hair, agitated. He turned back to the house, a beautiful three-story with a white picket fence and a wrap-around porch. But as the last rays of daylight receded behind the trees, shadows stretched unnaturally across the front yard. A shiver slithered down his spine.

He didn't bother locking up behind him. Instead, he got into his car and drove back home. 

***

“It's a deal then,” Jacob Alpin said to the man, shaking his hand. 

The real estate worker reached into his pockets and took out a key, placing it into Jacob’s hand.

“Now I have to warn you, most folks in this part of the town don't quite like Filtch House. Everyone is big on ghost stories around here, and your new house seems to be in the center for most of ‘em.”

Jacob smiled, looking up at his new house, “I don't believe in ghost stories.”

***

Jacob and Marissa Alpin were expecting. Jacob had found out the morning of their anniversary when his wife had surprised him with a blue baby bib along with his morning cup of coffee. Ever since Jacob heard he would be having a child, he had been in a hurry to find the perfect house. Now, he knew he’d found it at last. 

He found his wife sitting in their small kitchen, which unfortunately also doubled as their living room. They’d lived in a small studio apartment since they’d gotten married. The goal had been to save up before being able to purchase the home of their dreams. Yet, with the real estate market at an all time high, they’d put that dream aside, not believing it would ever come true. 

Coming up behind her, Jacob wrapped his arms around his wife, leaning down to kiss the side of her head. Peering over her shoulder he looked at the list of names she was making. 

“I want to name him Alfred. After my father.” 

Marissa wrinkled her nose in disgust, shaking her head. “I realize that was your fathers name, but Alfred? All I think after hearing that name is Batman's butler.”

“Yeah, but he was the most impressive butler of all time.”

Marissa shook her head, “I’m not naming my baby Alfred.”

Rolling his eyes, Jacob sat across her and clutched her hand. 

“We’ll agree to disagree and revisit the idea later,” he said. Jacob ran his hands down his leg which bounced nervously, fearing his wife’s reaction to the most impulsive purchase of his life. “I have something for you but you have to close your eyes.”

Marissa raised her brows, then closed her eyes smiling. Cupping her hands in front of her she asked, “What is it?”

Jacob dropped the keys to their new house into her palms. 

Marissa's eyes flew open as she stood, knocking over her chair, and gaping at the keys in her hands. 

“It’s not-” she gasped, wholly surprised but put out by the fact that he hadn’t taken it up with her first.

“I also sold this one, so we can move into our new place as soon as possible.”

Marissa was struck speechless with the idea of getting out of their dusty studio, with the angry neighbors, and thin walls. But she was still wary over the type of house Jacob had picked. That too, without her input, which had her more than a little miffed.

“If not for the fact that I highly doubt there can be any place worse than this, I would’ve seriously killed you! News flash, springing a house on someone’s not such a great idea.” Jacob winced, standing up as Marissa continued, “I mean, does my input not even matter to you? We’re married now. These decisions aren’t something you can just impulsively mak-,”

“You stupid piece of shit!” She stopped mid sentence and cringed as the neighbors began to yell at each other. Again. The third time today in fact and it was only half-past five in the afternoon. The voices and shouts were so loud it felt as though the argument was taking place in the center of their home. Something hit the thin wall, making it shake. 

Marissa found her doubts all but forgotten as she gaped at Jacob. “How soon is ‘as soon as possible,’ exactly?” she asked with a wince.

Jacob laughed nervously, pulling his wife close. 

“As soon as you want.”

One week later, the happy couple finally arrived. The house welcomed them with an unsettling stillness. The air inside was heavy, stale, as if it had been waiting for something. Marissa didn’t notice, too eager to settle into their new life. Jacob did, but he brushed it off.

“You think you could take these boxes to the basement?” Marissa asked, lugging in the last of her things from the truck. 

“I, uh, can’t,” he replied sheepishly.

“What do you mean can’t?” Marissa said. 

Jacob winced but led her to the door with a new lock on the doorknob. 

“You didn’t even check out the basement before getting the place!” Marissa yelled incredulously. 

Jacob put his hands up, “I tried! The real estate guy flat out refused. Said the basement was haunted or something. Apparently the home inspector went down while the sun set and went crazy. Didn’t seem like a good idea after that. They did sign off on the fact there's no problems down there though. Besides, with the deal they were giving me, I didn’t want to push.” 

Marissa’s eyes widened, and fear settled into her. She had always been superstitious, believing in ghosts and spirits. The two often argued about it. Much like right now, as Jacob laughed saying, “Come on. You're not scared of a couple of ghost stories, are you?” 

“Yeah,” Marissa said. “I am.”

Then she stopped, stepping back and shaking her head. “So you're saying you knew about this and chose not to tell me?”

Jacob’s eyes widened, understanding just how badly he had messed up.

“I mean, I just knew you would make a bigger deal out of all of this than it should be. Like now. It's just a house and I’ll go down myself and show you there's nothing to be scared of.” Jacob took a step as though he would charge down if his wife gave him the okay. He ignored the fact his hands were suddenly clammy at the thought.

“No! Are you crazy? We need to keep the door shut. In fact, you should call whoever and tell them not to bring any sort of key here.” 

Marissa gripped the sides of Jacob’s face, before softly saying, “I don’t think we should be living here.”

Jacob saw his wife physically shake with terror and felt the fight go out of him.

“Alright,” he said, hugging her. “We won’t open the door. But we also can’t move out until we find another place we can afford. It’s a shame though, the rest of the house is beautiful.”

“Promise me you won’t ever try to go down there,” Marissa implored, staring up at him. “No matter what, I don’t care what the situation is, you don’t open the door.”

“I promise.”

Marissa slowly nodded her head okay. As long as no one went near the basement door, she could live with it. 

Walking away, neither of them saw the doorknob slowly turn.

Months passed, and the two got settled into the new house. Soon, Jacob started going to work, while Marissa spent her days getting the house in order. 

One afternoon, Jacob and Marissa made a trip into town to buy groceries. The local market was small, nestled between a diner and an antique shop. As they browsed through the produce aisle, picking out tomatoes and apples, an older man behind the counter studied them with quiet interest.

“You’re the folks who moved into Filch House, ain’t ya?” the man asked, leaning forward on the counter with a knowing look. His voice was thick with a local drawl, weathered and rough.

Jacob exchanged a glance with Marissa before nodding. “Yeah, that’s us. I take it the house has a bit of a reputation around here?”

The man snorted. “Bit of a reputation? Son, that house was in the Filch family for generations. No one but them ever lived there—until they all up and died.”

Marissa stiffened beside Jacob. “Died how?” she asked, her voice quieter than before.

The man wiped his hands on his apron, exhaling through his nose. “Happened about thirty years ago. Last of the Filch line, couple and their three kids, just… gone. Some say it was murder. Others say something inside the house got 'em. Not a single body was found, only blood. Enough blood to know no one could’ve survived.”

Jacob frowned, trying to keep his skepticism in check. “So you’re saying they just disappeared? No signs of a struggle?”

“Oh, there was a struggle, alright.” The man leaned in, lowering his voice. “You ever see a house that looks normal in the daylight, but at night, it don’t feel right? Like something’s watching you?”

Marissa swallowed hard.

“Folks around here don’t go near that place after sundown,” the man continued. “And if they do, they sure as hell don’t go in the basement.”

Jacob forced a chuckle. “So you’re telling me I should be afraid of my own basement?”

The man didn’t laugh. “You should be afraid of whatever’s waiting down there.”

A heavy silence settled between them. Marissa grabbed Jacob’s arm, squeezing it just enough for him to notice. 

The old man straightened up, giving them a nod before turning to help another customer. “You folks take care now. And keep that door locked.”

Jacob paid for their groceries in silence, feeling the weight of the man’s warning long after they left the store.

***

Eventually, the two settled into a routine. Jacob would go to work in the mornings, while his wife stayed home and rested. She was almost to her delivery date and the doctors had told them it could be any day now. 

One day, Jacob came home but Marissa wasn’t there. 

He went to their room, and couldn’t find her there either. Walking out into the backyard he searched for her, but no Marissa. He went through all the rooms, washrooms, and kitchen. Finally, he grabbed his phone and dialed her number. 

From upstairs, he heard her cell phone ringing from her bedside table. 

Now Jacob was truly worried. Where would his pregnant wife even go? The town was at least a ten-minute drive from their house, and these days, Marissa didn’t even want to go out into the backyard. 

Sitting outside, he waited for his wife, but she did not come home. The sky got darker and the wind got colder but there was no sign of her anywhere. 

A feeling of dread settled into the pit of Jacob’s stomach. 

Heading back inside he walked past the basement door, and stopped. 

Turning around, he felt as if his heart was in his throat. Blood rushed to his ears, and he could hear his rapid heartbeat pulsing in his head. 

Marissa would never go down there. Not after all the time she spent convincing him to leave the door locked. She was so terrified of the basement she had even managed to convince him of the fact there was something wrong with it. Not that he needed much convincing with the chills he felt every time he walked by. 

Yet, there it was in front of him. 

The lock that’d closed the door had been opened. 

Jacob now felt cold, undiluted fear. His hands trembled as his breath caught in his throat. 

For evidence led him to believe his wife indeed had wandered into the last place she would have ever gone.

And now, Jacob knew he would break his promise to her.  

Taking a breath, he opened the door, and feeling much like he had when he was a little boy, he made his way down the stairs. 

It was dark, and the staircase groaned with every step Jacob took, getting farther and farther away from the light coming from the open door above. 

Slowly descending into darkness, Jacob kept the thought of his wife in mind.

The air was thick, pressing against his chest like unseen hands. The walls seemed to close in around him as he continued further down the stairs, his feet crunching over something brittle.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs and wandering deeper into the basement, he felt the walls for a light switch, and cursed himself for forgetting his phone upstairs. 

Suddenly, he heard a slight click and looked up to see the basement door shutting closed. His heart gave a sudden jolt, but just as he was about to run back upstairs, he saw a tall thin silhouette move in front of him. 

“Marissa,” Jacob exhaled in relief. His pulse thundered in his ears as he reached for her shoulder, his fingers brushing against strands of hair. “What are you doing down here?”

Jacob went to turn his wife towards him. The breath that hit his cheek was icy and smelled of rot. His eyes were still adjusting to the dark and he had only just made out the gleam of teeth as it fully faced him, smiling.

Just then he heard the front door swing open and the piercing cry of a babys wail followed by a familiar voice. 

“Jacob? I’m home. Where are you!”