When my mom and dad retired, they got themselves a house in Greece – leaving me to care for the family home on my own. I didn’t mind; it was better than trying to buy something on my own. Still, a two-story home for a single man in his early 30’s? That’s a bit much.
I lost my job during the pandemic, and with prices on the rise, I decided to start renting out parts of the space I wasn’t using. There was enough room upstairs to house at least a couple of college students, and a spacious basement for another. Just this large one-room basement that basically covered the entire underside of the building; supported by these thick concrete beams. It wasn’t the kind of place I’d usually consider renting out, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to offer – as long as I was honest about the state of things.
I spent a good month just preparing the spaces. Clearing out the upstairs and moving things from the basement to a long-term storage facility. At first it looked like we had some water damage to deal with, but it turned out to be a false alarm. All in all, it was shaping up to be a pretty painless transition, and the rent would keep me afloat until I could get a proper job.
I put out an ad on a couple of socials. One for the upstairs space, large enough to support at least a couple of people, and then the basement. I wasn’t really sure about the basement, but I included a few pictures and hoped for the best. The price was cheap too. Cheaper than it should be, I guess.
I got a few applications for the upstairs space, but most of them were either really short-term or started arguing about the price. One guy just showed up and tried to walk straight in without calling first. It was a weird time. I didn’t get any calls about the basement though, so I figured I’d just screwed that up.
It was early October when I had a knock at the door. The classic da-dadada-da kind of knock. I hurried to open, still browsing job openings on my phone and chewing on a piece of cold pizza from the prior night. It’s hard to explain how surprised I was to see what I saw.
Most other applicants had been either young guys or college girls. What was now standing in front of me was a family of four. A mother and father, both in their mid-40’s, and two young boys ranging from 10 to 14 years old. The mom had this autumn-colored cotton dress with a little ribbon, and the dad had this fancy black overcoat, a white shirt, with a red tie. Both kids were dressed up in identical blue shirts.
At first, I thought they were there to try and convert me to something. I could easily imagine them with a set of bibles. Instead the dad stepped forward, offering me a handshake. I accepted.
“Hi there,” he said with a warm smile. “We’re the Walters. We’re here about the ad.”
“Oh, uh… hello,” I answered. “It might get a bit crowded, but you’re free to have a look. Sorry about the, uh…”
I vaguely gestured to my unprepared state, but the dad just shook his head.
“Not at all. Hope we’re not imposing.”
I invited them inside, and they went right past the stairs. I figured they just missed it.
“Excuse me,” I said. “It’s right up here.”
“Oh, we know,” smiled the mom. “We’re here about the basement.”
So there’s this long wooden staircase that spirals into the basement. It’s one of the main reasons I don’t like going down there or furnishing the place – that spiral makes it almost impossible to bring down any proper furniture. It’s infuriating. But all four members of this picture-perfect family stepped down, all composed. They were courteous and respectful, with just the polite amount of excitement, but I got the sense that there was something just… off, about them.
The dad brought out some measuring tape and started checking the walls. They asked me about the lack of windows, the air quality, their ability to bring down some furniture and put up some light fixtures. I agreed to all of it. I still couldn’t believe they were actually considering it – this was clearly not a space meant for a family of four, and they gave the impression that they were pretty well-off. There was no reason for them to rent a space like this.
Still, as they finished their inquiries, the mother approached me.
“Would you mind stepping upstairs and just walking around a bit?” she asked. “We’d like to see how much sound carries through.”
A strange way to ask for soundproofing, but I did as she asked. I got up the stairs, put on my heaviest boots, and just wandered around for a bit. After a couple of minutes, I turned the corner only to see all four of them standing in the hallway – picture perfect as always. All with a big smile on their faces.
“We’re very pleased,” the mother said. “We’ll take it.”
They signed a 6-month rent agreement, and I got to know them a little better over the next few weeks as they sporadically dropped by There was Leilah, the mother. Anders, the father. The kids were Aiden (12), and Alvin (13). Apparently, they were in-between housing and wanted something small and cheap in the interim. Despite all that, I couldn’t shake the feeling that a basement was a strange choice for them. Still, I needed the money, and they were eager to get it done. They even offered to pay a little extra since they were bringing in more people than I’d anticipated.
About a week later, they showed up for the official move-in. Leilah and Anders insisted on bringing in everything in themselves, and that I shouldn’t be bothered with any heavy lifting. Apparently, just letting them stay there was favor enough. They brought in about a dozen pieces of furniture covered in blue tarp, in various sizes, along with a dozen or so large cardboard boxes – none of them marked. They put down several hand-woven carpets; the kind you’d see in a large mansion.
Leila was a stay-at-home mom, while Anders worked as some kind of security manager for a nearby airport. He worked odd hours, anything from 12-hour shifts to all-nighters, and everything in-between. He was also on-call for most hours of the day, and sometimes had to leave with short notice. It was strange though, one might think a person like that would need space with good cell coverage, but that basement barely had a single bar. There was wifi, but it was spotty at best.
For some reason, none of this seemed to bother them.
That first week living with the Walters was not a problem. Most of the time I forgot they were even there. I only saw them leave the basement a handful of times, and they didn’t make any noise. At most I could hear them stomping up or down that creaky old staircase a couple of times, but that was mostly Anders heading to work. In fact, I never saw Aiden and Alvin leave for school. I figured they were being homeschooled – further pushing the idea that this family might have some kind of religious background.
Still, they were hardly an issue. I was still working hard on finding someone to rent the upstairs, but I was having no luck. I’d considered lowering the price, but after the Walters moved in money was becoming less of an issue. Anders even suggested that I apply for a job at the airport – he knew one of the HR people looking for hires in various departments. Having been jobless for 5 months, I was willing to try pretty much anything.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t telling me the whole story. I kept coming back to one thought – what the hell they were even doing down there?
Once, I decided to get a better look at what they’d done with the place. At that point, I hadn’t even seen how they’d decorated it. It was in the middle of the afternoon, and I had no idea whether they were even down there or not. Their car was gone from the driveway. I knocked a couple of times, and when there was no response, I used my key to get down.
As I turned the corner, it was deathly quiet and completely dark. I turned on the lights.
They all slept in these basic single beds, all spaced out along the easternmost wall. They had a small loveseat couch, along with a couple of basic plastic chairs facing a thick old TV placed against the wall. There was an empty bookshelf, and a couple of scattered carpets along the floor. I could see a few opened boxes. There was a bathroom next to the staircase, but it looked unused. No toothbrushes or anything.
It took me a few moments to realize that I wasn’t alone.
The entire family was standing in a line along the southernmost wall, furthest away from the staircase. They were standing in order of size from tallest to smallest, remaining perfectly still, just looking at me. It wasn’t until they noticed me seeing them that they reacted. They all looked up at me, putting on a friendly smile.
“Can we help you?” asked Leilah.
“I hope we didn’t make too much noise,” continued Anders.
The kids just nodded, in unison. I took a good look at them, but I couldn’t figure out what I was looking at. I had no explanation for their behavior.
“Sorry, uh… I was just gonna check the water pressure,” I lied. “I tried knocking.”
“That’s alright,” smiled Anders. “Go right ahead.”
Walking back up the stairs, a thought hit me – if they were all down there, why was their car gone?
Who’d taken it?
I had a number of strange interactions with them over the next couple of weeks. For example, I once found Aiden, the younger of the two brothers, standing in the kitchen. He wasn’t doing anything in particular, just standing there – staring at the spice rack. When I asked him about it, he just said he wasn’t doing anything. After a while, he turned on his heel and ran back downstairs. I didn’t see it, but I heard his little feet thump all the way down the staircase.
Another time, I saw Leilah standing in the open doorway, leading to the basement. She was just standing there, hand on the doorknob, looking right at me. I said ‘hello’, and she said it right back, but she wouldn’t let me out of her sight. When I finally passed from her view, I could hear her running back downstairs. Not just hurrying – running.
Another time, I saw Anders in the car out on the driveway. I saw him from the upstairs window, just sitting there, hands on the steering wheel, for a good fifteen minutes. No radio or nothing, just him alone in his car.
But the strangest interaction came one night when I was going to the kitchen to get a coke. I spotted Leilah standing in the kitchen, fridge wide open. I could see her silhouette illuminated by the fridge bulb. Her long black hair, wet from a fresh shower. Standing in a hastily tied bathrobe, her feet bare.
At first I didn’t see anything strange; she was just standing there. She wasn’t getting anything, it was more like she was bathing in the light. I thought about calling out to her, but something about her demeanor made me want to sneak back into my bedroom. Then I saw it.
There was something wrong with her ear.
Her left ear was about three inches higher up than her right one, without her bending her neck. Her scalp seemed lightly tilted, and there was something about the way she moved her fingers that didn’t look… natural. They pointed in different directions, like her hand was ever so slightly fractured.
I just stayed there for a while, looking at her from a distance – watching her shoulders rise and fall as she took deep breaths – inhaling the cold.
When she turned my way, I only saw her for a moment – her torso moving first, and her legs following, like a stilted Claymation puppet.
I managed to slip around the corner and heard her rush back towards the basement; her feet tapping against the hallway carpet in an uneven rhythm.
When she got to the door, she stopped. I was leaning against the wall, listening from the other room. I heard her step around for a bit – then there was a snap. A popping limb; something finding its way back into a socket. Her steps resumed a natural pattern as she hurried downstairs.
I just stayed there for a while, trying to keep calm. For all intents and purposes, I might’ve just been seeing her in a weird light. It was dark, and I was sleepy. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something unnatural about her – that I’d seen something I wasn’t supposed to.
From that day forward, I got more suspicious. I didn’t go into the hallway at night, and I did my best to avoid the basement door altogether. I tried my best to just put them out of my head. I went back to focus on getting a job, and a second tenant for the upstairs space. Both of which proved to be a challenge, but I was making progress. The TSA was hiring, for example. Not the most glamorous job, but it’d be solid work.
There was a couple of college students who came by to check the upstairs floor. A young couple who needed a place to stay while they finished up their master’s degrees. They seemed like solid people, and we got along just fine. They knew the place wasn’t the most glamorous, but it was a neat short-term solution while they finished up the upcoming semester. The only problem was the Walters family, who I had yet to introduce them to.
I remember knocking on the basement door, having the young couple standing behind me expectantly. Albin, the oldest of the brothers, chimed in with a cheerful ‘come in’.
As we stepped downstairs, the family of four was standing in a picture perfect two-by-two formation. Mom and dad in the back, two kids in the front. All dressed in their Sunday best, with a freshly printed smile across their faces.
The whole scene was so absurd; like some kind of misplaced commercial from the 1950’s.
“Hello!” giggled Leilah. “Aren’t they the most handsome couple, Anders?”
“They sure are, Leilah. What do you think, kids?”
And in unison, without skipping a beat, the kids answered;
“They sure are handsome!”
For the next twenty seconds or so, this uncomfortable silence grew between us. The Walters just stood there, smiling at us, waiting for some kind of response. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t help but to feel that I was missing something obvious.
Was Leilah’s eye color a bit different? Was Albin’s face a bit lopsided? Was Anders missing a finger, or did he just stand in a weird angle?
Maybe they’d been strange all along. Maybe it was only now that I was seeing it.
When we finally parted ways, I followed the young couple outside. They both turned to me, their faces ashen. One of them just stuttered, but the other managed to form a few words.
“We’re not one to judge,” she said. “But those people give me the creeps.”
“You won’t be seeing much of them, they-“
“Yeah, see, that’s my point. Who does that? What kind of family willingly lives in a basement?”
“It’s only a temporary measure. I assure you, they-“
By then, the other chimed in.
“What’s with the boxes?” he asked. “What’s in them?”
“Personal keepsakes, clothes, that kind of stuff.”
“No I mean… the box that moved. The blue one.”
The discussion died down, and they said their goodbyes. I got the feeling that they wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. Still, their words lingered in the back of my head. A box… that moved?
Really? How’d I miss that?
After countless sleepless nights, I decided to finally get some answers. I had to take a little risk and figure this out, once and for all. So one day I slipped a note under the door, informing them that we needed them to clear out the basement for one afternoon while a plumber did some repairs. I looked up a few plumbing things on Wikipedia and referenced a real company, making it look all official and stuff. Later that day, Leilah and Anders dropped by, holding hands, telling me that they’d be sure to be out for the day.
“Maybe we’ll go to the zoo,” smiled Anders.
“Don’t you have work?” I asked.
“It comes and goes,” he laughed. “We’re very fortunate.”
“Very fortunate,” agreed Leilah. “So very fortunate.”
At the designated time, the family was out of the building. They went for a drive in Ander’s car, promising to return shortly. I told them it wouldn’t take the plumber more than an hour. They seemed a little suspicious when they hadn’t seen the actual plumber show up yet, and they let that suspicion hang in the air. Finally, I just straight up lied – giving them a fake name and asking whether they wanted me to call him.
Leilah didn’t call my bluff, luckily. But as they pulled out of the driveway, I could tell I was sweating. I didn’t even know what I feared, but my mind kept returning to that night when I’d seen her standing in the light of the fridge. I had no idea what they were hiding, or what they might do if I found out about it, but there was a part of me that just wanted to get into my car and drive – and another part of me telling me I was being silly.
When they finally drove away, I wasted no time. I hurried downstairs, turned on the light, and started to go through their stuff. It was an invasion of privacy. Probably illegal. But if I wanted to sleep soundly again, I had to have an idea about why they were being so goddamn weird.
There were a lot of oddities about their space. For example, all their beds were perfectly made – like no one’d slept in them. Most of the couches and surfaces were covered in dust. I could tell the TV hadn’t been on in a long time; it wasn’t even plugged in.
There were no phones, or phone chargers. No laptops or desktop computers. Just a bunch of boxes and underutilized furniture. I did find a polaroid camera though – at least 30 years old.
I started checking their boxes. Just clothes, it seemed. All variations of what I’d already seen; identical sets of shirts, pants, dresses, and shoes. At least four boxes worth. One box was just full of accessories, like earrings, necklaces, glasses, hair spray, and fake nails. Another was full of decorations and knick-knacks. Porcelain dogs, family photos, dried sunflowers and roses – both with strange colors and fancy vases.
I took my time, carefully placing everything back the way I found it. It was odd, but nothing incriminating or downright unnatural. Still, I remember what that couple had said about a box that… moved. I couldn’t see anything like it.
That is, until I turned to leave.
Right by the side of the stairs, resting next to the pristine bathroom, was a large blue Styrofoam cooler. It was the kind of thing that kind of blended into the background, like it’d always been there. Still, I could clearly remember not owning one of those things. It looked old and torn, like it’d been around for years.
And maybe I was imagining things, but it looked like it was… moving. Pulsing. Pressing against the surface, making little plastic squeals.
There was a sound coming from it. Like a low guttural growl pushed through a thin pipe. A sharp, rhythmic noise. It made the cooler rattle and shake, ever so slightly. I froze, hoping it would quiet down. I held my breath and waited for it to settle.
I slowly stepped back up the stairs. As I rounded the corner and lost sight of the cooler, I heard the Styrofoam cover pop off, and the sound became clearer – a loud growl, shifting in pitch from high to low. Like a singer doing some kind of sick vocal warm-up, trying to find the right pitch.
Then something hit the floor with a painful yelp. I stopped dead in my tracks, trying to identify the sound. It was like a cross between a dog and some kind of fox – a sharp, screeching tone.
Then, it scrambled to its feet. I could hear claws and paws scratch the floor, and something was coming my way; fast.
There was something primal in me that told me to run. I hurried up the stairs, only looking back for a short glimpse as I shut the door behind me.
I only saw it for a moment. Something black, with a single eye reflecting back at me. Its skin tight and misplaced across the skull. Teeth pointing in all directions, in seemingly random sizes. Black drool dripping off an elongated tongue.
A thing - wearing the cheap suit of a black dog.
As I slammed the door shut, I could hear a car pull up on the driveway. It’d been less than 30 minutes. Maybe they had planned to catch me in the act.
I heard them come in and head straight for the basement. Meanwhile, I was in the other room, throwing together a small bag with a change of clothes and a toothbrush. The moment I heard the basement door shut, I headed for my car.
The moment I got in the car, I saw them step out of the house. They all stood there in the driveway, just looking at me.
And right next to them was a beautiful black Labrador – happily wagging its tail.
I didn’t say a word – I just drove. I had to get some space between us and figure out what the hell I wanted to do. I wanted to go to the police, but there was no way to explain what I’d seen. What could they even do? Kick them out for having a dog? There was even a clause in the rental agreement that allowed them a pet. I had nothing to go on.
I decided to spend the night at a motel just outside of town. I needed time to think and sleep without having the threat of something strange living under my feet.
I couldn’t get that image out of my head. That black… thing, in a dog suit. Like something trying to remember what a dog looked and sounded like in real time.
I checked in at the motel and got a room on the first floor. I crawled into bed, put the TV on, and surfed a bit on my phone. I could feel myself relax for the first time in weeks, but every time I thought about that house, and that family, I could feel my pulse stagger.
I had no idea what to do, or who to call. Which is what lead me to this site in the first place. A lot of you seem to have seen strange things. I figured I’d post here eventually, but it took me quite some time to build up the courage.
Mostly because of what happened later that night.
I remember a tap on the door. I must’ve dozed off. I hadn’t turned the TV off or brushed my teeth. I just woke up with this sour feeling in my stomach; that something was terribly wrong.
I had closed the curtains, so I couldn’t see who it was. I thought about hiding under the bed, or locking myself in the bathroom. My thoughts raced, but I tried to temper them with rational what-ifs. Maybe it was just housekeeping, or a concerned manager.
Then the knock came again. This time, with a voice.
“Mister?” said Alvin Walters. “Mom wants to talk to you.”
I didn’t answer. For a few seconds, I carefully stepped out of bed – trying my best not to make any noise.
“Mom wants to talk to you,” he repeated. “It’s urgent.”
There was no way they didn’t know I was in there. They knew, and they wanted something.
And whatever it was, I didn’t want to find out.
I sneaked to the back of the room as the doorknob started to rattle. I could hear Alvin again. This time, his voice shrunk to threatening lows; like the dark growl of an adult or elderly man.
“Mom wants to talk to yooooou~.”
I pulled open the curtains to a window facing the back of the building. I figured I could climb out the window. But as soon as those curtains opened, my heart skipped a beat.
Right there, was Anders. The father himself – just inches from the window. Standing straight with his neatly tucked shirt; illuminated by the sharp light of the single TV screen. An ever-courteous smile cemented on his face.
He tapped the window.
“Would you mind opening up?” he asked. “It won’t take long.”
Again, I looked a little closer. And again, I could see little details that were just… off. A slight droop of the lip that hadn’t been there the day before. One eye pulled lower than the other. His hairline further forward than usual. Like he’d rushed himself to look like a person.
Another knock at the door. Another knock at the window. Voices from the front, and the back. Hell, maybe even room next door. Little voices. Big voices. Broken voices.
“We just want to clear some things up.”
“Mom wants to talk.”
“It’s not what you think.”
I had to make a break for it, but for that, I needed to decide where to go. So I pulled the front curtains aside, to see how many of them were waiting up front.
All five of them were standing out front. Mom, dad, kids, and dog.
I looked back, as if trying to convince myself I was sane. There were two dads – and none of them looked right.
Further down the street, in their car, I spotted two more kids identical to Aiden and Alvin. Both with little quirks, like they weren’t fully… formed yet. A loose jaw, a strange eye. One of them had a wide bald spot.
Stepping out of the motel manager’s office, I saw another Leilah. This one with a deflated arm, and a paralyzed face.
I was surrounded. I held up my phone like a weapon.
“I’m calling the police!” I yelled. “Get the fuck away from me!”
“That’d be inconvenient,” said Anders.
“And you’d be dead!” added Aiden.
“Long dead,” chuckled Alvin, his voice not tuned right.
The doorknob rattled again. More forceful, this time. I could feel my pulse rising, my breath growing short. I looked back and forth, seeing the Anders at the back window trying to figure out the lock. Only now did I see that one of his fingers were nothing but bone.
“How about a trade?” suggested Leilah. “Something for everyone.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?!”
“Go inside that bathroom of yours. Grab a piece of tissue, and chew on it. Then drop it out the window.”
“…what?”
I couldn’t understand what I was hearing. It’s like the words were there, but didn’t make any sense to me.
“We’re gonna need a new suit,” said Leilah. “You will do.”
“You’re not fucking wearing me.”
“Oh, we’ll leave you alone. And you’ll leave us alone. Because if you don’t, people that look like you are gonna start doing some terrible things. Aren’t they, Anders?”
“Oh they are, Leilah,” said an Anders. “Terrible, terrible things.”
“So that way, we can all walk away. You’ll never see us again, and we’ll leave you be.”
I tried to wrap my head around it. They were gonna make suit out of me, like they’d done with that dog, and with that family. There would be someone looking like me, walking around out there. Something… vile.
But what choice did I have?
I stepped into the bathroom and chewed up a piece of tissue. I spat it out and moved to the window. The family stepped back. I clicked the window open and flung the piece of tissue out with a flick of the finger. Leilah picked it up and met my eyes with an unblinking gaze.
With one clench of the fist, she grabbed the top of her head – and pulled. Her entire face lurched backwards – her lower lip reaching all the way to her eyebrows. Underneath was just this black sludge, covering what looked like a deformed skull. She was like a walking oil slick, completely midnight black and slick as water. She pushed the piece of tissue inside herself before pulling her face back down. It took her a few seconds to realign, but she just couldn’t get it to look right.
She coughed a little. She waited. She nodded. And when she looked back at me, she did so with my own eyes. Speaking, with my own tongue.
“Thank you,” I heard myself say. “I think this will work out for all of us, don’t you?”
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t think. I just closed the curtains, and scrambled backwards.
I heard a car pull around. I heard rustling in the bushes out back. And from afar, I could hear my own voice a final time;
“We’ll be gone by morning,” it said. “But we’re never far away.”
A car drove off, leaving me in stunned silence – my mouth dry from hyperventilating.
The next morning, they were gone. The basement was empty, and they even left a thank-you note. Attached to it was a polaroid picture of a happy family. A mom, a dad, two kids – and a funny uncle.
One that looked exactly like me.
I have been contemplating on whether to share this for some time, knowing what they could do. But I believe they’re not technically proficient enough to find this, and I’ve omitted a lot of details. I just need to know if anyone has met something similar, and if so, how you managed to put it behind you.
Are they still out there? Are they watching me? How many ‘suits’ do they have?
I’ve wanted to just put this behind me and pretend it never happened, but it’s getting harder and harder. Every now and then, I see someone that looks vaguely like them. An Anders with a different haircut. A Leilah that’s slightly younger. School photos with an Aiden or Alvin, but a different hair color.
And a few weeks ago, I got a call from a friend, mentioning how they’d seen me in the local newspaper. Only thing is – I’ve never been in it.
I’ve considered moving somewhere far, far away. But first, I just need to get this out.
I need someone to believe me.
The real me, and not the me you might see in the papers.