The Basement by Emily

The Basement 

When I was 17, my father had moved my younger brother Jack and me from the state of Florid to Washington. Mom had died in a car accident and my dad moved us away from the sunny state, saying that everything there reminded him of her and he needed to get as far away from it as possible. Within six months of the funeral, we were packed up and across the country. My dad had found this old house for us to live in. This house had been abandoned for a large amount of years, so it needed some fixing up. The tile flooring was cracking, the wallpaper was peeling off the walls, and there were water stains on the ceilings.

Needless to say, this house was a mess.

It was all rather fixable, and within a month or so, everything looked like new. The only part of the house that was never fixed was the basement. The door was never able to be opened.  The key was missing when we got here and we couldn’t take the hinges off because they were on the other side of the door.

Jack and I managed to get the house in order without our father being around the majority of the time. Our dad is usually at work, and if he isn’t there, he’s at the local pub. After Mom died, he began to drink away the pain rather than face it.

            One night, my father was surprisingly home to eat supper with Hack and me, bearing news.

“I met a nice woman who works at the pub two months ago. We started dating the night we met and I’ve asked her to come live with us.” He announced. I nearly choked on my lasagna.

“What?!” I forced out, managing to keep the noodles from sliding completely down my throat.

“My girlfriend is going to come live with us,” my dad repeated, looking at my brother and I. “And I expect you two will accept her into our home without any issues whatsoever.”

            Knowing we couldn’t argue with our father, Jack and I accepted the facts and helped prepare for the arrival of my father’s girlfriend. She arrived a week after we were told she was coming. She and Dad came home together for dinner. I had to admit, she was very pretty. Her name was Jane Malcolm. She had pale blonde hair and gray eyes. She appeared to be nice, but there was something very off about her. The energy in the house seemed to shift when she walked in.

Jack and I went over and introduced ourselves to her before sitting down to dinner.

“The house looks so beautiful. I’m so glad you got rid of that ugly floral wallpaper that was in here.” Jane said, looking around the room. I raised an eyebrow and looked over at her.

“How did you know about the wallpaper?” Jack asked, giving her the same look I was. Jane smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“This was my grandmother’s house. She raised me here.” Dad looked over her while chewing a mouthful of turkey.

“What a coincidence that we would be living her now.” He said, smiling at her. I almost gagged. Jane nodded, smiling her fake smile again.

“Do you know where the key for the basement is?” I asked her, curious about the condition of it and what could possibly be down there. Jane’s faux grin remained as she turned to look at me.

“The key to the basement has been missing for years. Last time I saw it was before Grandma died.” She said. I shrugged and continued eating my dinner, sensing something was wrong. I didn’t question anything more and just ate my turkey in silence.

            As time went on, things in the house began to turn to crap. Dad would be at work most of the time and Jane home with us. It was mid-July and with no friends here whatsoever, Jack and I never really left the house, so we were with Jane a lot.

And I absolutely hated this woman.

Around my father, Jane was an absolutely kind and caring person. When he was gone, she made my life a living hell. Jack and I cleaned the house while Jane sat on the couch watching soap operas. The only other thing I’ve seen her do is stand by the basement door with her ear pressed against it, as if she was listening for something. She would tap on the door, and I swear I heard something tap back. I eventually got curious enough to go tap on the door myself, and I was greeted by a light tapping on the other side a few minutes later.

There was something down there.

I was about to tap the door again, but Jane called me to clean up her lunch. I heard whatever was in the basement slowly move down the stairs again as I walked away.

            This all became a routine. Dad would get up at 6 and be at work by 7. By 7:05, Jane had my brother and me out of bed, making her breakfast and cleaning up her messes while she sat on the couch. I was turning 18 in a week, so I would be able to leave and take my brother with me. We were so close to getting away from this witch.

The week passed by agonizingly slow. Dad had stayed at work late, meaning that we were stuck serving Jane for longer. At least tonight would be the last night Jack and I would have to deal with her. The night dragged on later and later, and then a police officer came to our door. Our father had been driving home, when he fell asleep at the wheel, went off the road, and hit a tree. He died on impact.

Jane was the one who answered the door. She began to cry and thanked the officer. Her tears stopped as soon as she shut the door. Jane began laughing, knowing the house was hers. My advantages in this situation: I didn’t have to worry about being yelled at by my father for disrespecting her, and I would be a legal adult in less than 24 hours.

“It looks like you two will be working for me full time from now on.” Jane sneered, her twisted countenance turning her pretty features ugly.

“Keep dreaming, Jane.” Jack replied, plopping down on the couch.

“Excuse me? Get off that couch right now!” She screeched.

“You heard him. I’ll be a legal adult tomorrow. Go pack your things. You’re not welcome here anymore. This is my house.” I growled, not taking my eyes off her.

“How dare you! Do you want to go in the basement?!” Jane yelled at me, a vein pulsing from her neck.

“The key is missing. Good luck getting me down there.”

Jane smirked and pulled a rusty key out of her pocket and stuck in the door’s keyhole. With one swift movement, she turned the key, threw open the door, grabbed me by the left ear and pushed me down into the basement.

“Have fun with Grandma’s pet!” Jane laughed before closing and locking the door, leaving me in complete darkness. The smell of mildew threw itself up my nose hard and I coughed. The squeaking of rats sounded from down below.

From the far corner of the room, I heard the sound of claws scratching against the concrete floor. The noise began to come towards me, becoming louder. I began to band on the door, trying to break it off the rusty hinges. The scratching grew louder and louder as the owner of the claws began to climb the stairs, its heavy breathing invading my ears. I turned to look behind me, and the last thing I saw was a mouth of ivory teeth.

And then darkness…