After returning to Gertrude’s house, I tried my best not to think about the voice in the basement.
A lot of you told me to just leave the rings there. But I couldn’t. At the same time, I wasn’t going to go back alone.
It was around 6 that Roger and I made it back to the house. Some of you (/u/MarilynMonheaux, /u/No-Welcome9711, /u/D2_Lx0wse) suggested retrieving the rings with magnets, which I thought was a great idea. Unfortunately, Google claims white gold doesn’t stick to magnets.
But I did come with a rope.
I tied it tightly around my waist at the top of the stairs. “Don’t let go,” I said, handing Roger the other end.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go down instead?”
“Oh, now you want to help.”
He frowned at me.
“If you fall, I won’t be able to pull you back up,” I said, flicking the light switch. Still dead. I grabbed the flashlight from the floor and clicked it on instead.
That’s something I forgot to mention before. When the collapse first happened, the lights were working in the basement… but a few hours later, they didn’t. I guess the cave-in damaged the electrical lines or something.
Roger grabbed the other end of the rope, and I started down the stairs, holding the banister in one hand and a flashlight in the other.
I could still feel the draft. A breeze of cool air, rising up from the cavern. The wood creaked underneath me with each step. I tried not to look at the hole. Tried to keep my eyes on the rings.
But I couldn’t stop myself.
I looked.
The concrete around the edge was shattered and cracked like glass. Rock and dirt cascaded deeper into the mine. The slow, steady drip drip drip of water echoed from deep below. The box of my childhood stuff still teetered on the edge, spilling papers and toys into the hole. A pink teddy bear sat on a rocky ledge just a few feet from the rim.
I swallowed.
Almost 150 feet deep. That’s what /u/Maleficent-Spell4170 said on my last post. That’s 15 stories—taller than the building I work in. I could imagine the hole, tunneling deep into the earth, filled with pale eyeless creatures that evolved to live in the darkness.
I took another careful step. And then another. Then I was standing on the last step. I slowly bent down to pick up the rings. My fingers were inches away—
Scrrrtch
A scratching sound from inside the hole.
I swiveled the flashlight to the opening. No movement. Probably just a mouse or something. I reached down and picked up the rings. And before I could drop them again, I put them on my finger.
I turned around and started up the stairs—
The rope went slack.
Thump, thump, thump. Soft sounds above me. I flicked the flashlight up—to see the end of the rope bouncing down the stairs.
Roger let go of the rope?!
I ran up the stairs, fear pounding through me. The wood groaned under my feet. “Roger! I told you not to let go! What part of that did you not understand?!”
And as my voice echoed around me, I heard it again.
The voice.
But this time, it almost sounded like my own.
It was trying to imitate me.
I forced my legs to pump harder. I finally pushed my way to the top stair and stood there, panting, my entire body drenched in cold sweat. Then I slammed the door shut and pulled the deadbolt—something I’d forgotten to do last night.
The hallway was empty.
“Roger?” I called.
No reply.
I finally untied the rope from my waist and dropped it to the ground. The other end of the rope was still in the basement; it passed underneath the door. I sighed, then cupped my hands around my mouth: “Roger! I got the rings safely, no thanks to you!”
A soft thump from upstairs.
He went upstairs?! What would he have done if the basement caved in? Left me to die? Swearing under my breath, I started for the stairs.
Shhliip
I whipped around.
The rope. It was slowly moving across the floor. Through the crack under the basement door.
As if something were pulling it.
I ran to the front door. I had no idea where Roger was—getting stuff from upstairs to bring to Gertrude’s?!—but I had to get out of here. “Roger? I don’t know where you are, but we got to get out of here!” I called, not expecting him to reply.
But this time, he did.
“I’m up here.”
I started to turn around… and then stopped.
There was something off about his voice. I couldn’t place exactly what it was, but something maybe about the rhythm of the consonants, the emphasis on each syllable. I paused in the foyer, my hand on the doorknob.
“Can you help me with something?” he called down.
I turned around—
The stairs were wet.
Something shiny and dark was smudged all over the wood. Like something had been dragged upstairs.
I ran. Maybe that makes me a coward, but if something had taken Roger, there was no use in me dying too. I ran out into the front yard and called 911. Within ten minutes the police were here. They barged into the house as I stood outside, holding my breath.
Fifteen minutes later, they finally came out.
“We didn’t find your husband inside.”
The officer grimaced at me. I stared up at him, trying not to cry. “What about the blood?” I whispered. “Was that… was that his?”
He shook his head. “We didn’t see any blood.”
“There was blood—on the stairs—”
“There’s nothing on the stairs. Take a look for yourself if you want.”
I did. I walked inside the house… and the stairs were clean. The rope was gone. The house was quiet and filled with natural light.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
The police told me that I could file a missing person’s report if my husband didn’t show up soon. They assured me that he probably just went out, probably to try and help get this place fixed up.
But I have a horrible feeling he’s never coming back.