Into The Basement

When fear becomes reality

The boy stood at the basement stairs, staring down into the abyss. His brother had called him a “pussy” for being too chickenshit to go down there for his father’s toolbox. Now he regretted rising to his brother’s taunts.

He descended the stairs, heart pounding like a drum. His ankles tingled as he imagined something scaly grabbing them from between the risers.

He spotted the rusty toolbox and sprinted to it.

Then the lights blinked out. His only light came from the doorway, where a silhouetted figure stood.

Heart thudding like a trapped bird, he cried, “Jack! What the hell? Turn ’em back on!”

But Jack didn’t reply; a primal growl did.

Without warning, the figure slammed the door shut, plunging the boy into total darkness. The boy stood trembling as he held the toolbox like a shield.

The sound of claws scraping down the stairs echoed through the basement.