Written in response to the prompt at https://www.wattpad.com/579557100-micro-frights-4-the-basement , which is an atmospheric photo of a staircase leading down to a really-nice looking basement.

Length: 498 words

The Basement

Our basement doesn't seem weird at first. The main room is bright and modern. There's an old tv, a fridge, and a comfortable couch. The furnace is tucked away behind a cream-coloured door set into a cream-coloured wall. Except for the fact that the windows are high on the walls, there're no obvious hints that you're below ground.

When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time down there – watching tv, playing around - but always with a sibling or parent. Nobody in the family spent time in that room alone. Even my dad, who is broad-shouldered, whom I have never seen cry, avoided being alone in there. I don't think he could have said why. There was something about that room that made you never want to go in there alone – and I didn't.

Well, except once. I didn't plan to go down into the basement, obviously. I had been left home alone - completely alone. It was just before Christmas. My parents needed to shop for presents; I didn't want to go. The fact that they gave in so quickly to my demands probably meant that some of those presents were for me.

I was in danger, that year, of flunking math. It was mostly my own fault, being more interested in horses and boys than basic algebra. I had no patience for Xs and Ys, and I sucked at it. I sucked hard. I had a test in the morning, and my backpack – with my textbook and math notes – had been left in the basement. I needed that stuff, or I was setting myself up for a world of trouble.

It was already dark out, and snow had piled up in the window-wells, turning the basement into a black hole. Standing at the top of the stairs, I flicked on the lights and told myself that I was being stupid. I opened the door and, holding on to the stair-rail with both hands, slowly made my way down the stairs. As I got further down the stairs, the air became cooler, and more still, almost stagnant. With each step, I felt like I was wading deeper and deeper into a pool of dark water, first just my toes, then my ankles, then my knees. The last step, the one from the bottom of the staircase onto the smooth, laminate floor, should have felt like stepping into cool water up to my waist. It didn't.

I felt a suffocating weight pushing down on me. It felt like one of those dreams that aren't really dreams, where you can't move. It was not cool, but cold, bitingly cold. It was dark, too, blacker than night, and there were whispers in the darkness. Whispers that grew louder and closer, an incomprehensible cacophony, building, until -

Until I heard the snick of the front door unlocking. I was standing at the bottom of the well-lit staircase, while my brother belted out "Joy to the World" upstairs.