Five years ago, my wife gave birth to our youngest child Tobey. We had already had a son and daughter before hand and we all lived in a large two story house in cozy little neighbor hood so space was never a problem for us. Eventually when Toby started potting training my wife and I told him to knock on the bathroom door to see if anyone was in there for common courtesy. Over time Toby develop a strange little habit. Whenever someone would knock on the bathroom door and if he was nearby he would either say “Somebody’s in there” if someone was in bathroom or “Nobody’s in there” if no one was in there. Now his siblings found his little quirk of his annoying at times but I paid it no heed.
At the near end of November, after Thanksgiving, my wife and I wanted to decorate for Christmas. We were planning on buying new decorations but we had some old Christmas lights somewhere in the basement that we wanted to use. On a Thursday night, my wife took our daughter to the salon while our eldest son was in a study group at the library, so it was just me and Tobey in the house. After reviewing our taxes from the last year, I decided to go to the basement to get the Christmas lights so I can set them up before the weather turns worse for wear. I went downstairs to first floor and crossed the living room where Tobey was sitting on the couch watching his favorite cartoon show while absentmindedly eating a bag of Teddy Grahams. I reached the basement door and as my hand grasped the door knob, Toby said,
“Somebody’s in there.”
I paused as a slight jolt of shock passed over me. Confusion soon followed as the bathroom was on the other side of the living room. And Toby was still on the coach watching TV.
“What did you say son?” I asked turning to him.
Toby didn’t take his eyes of the television when he responded. “Somebody’s in there.”
“In the bathroom?”
“No, in the basement.” He clarified.
Fear ebbed its way into my psyche which I tried to brush off. “Who’s in the basement?”
Toby shrugged and grabbed another handful of Teddy Grahams.
I turned to the door, my hand still on the door knob. I stood there, as if waiting for someone to walk up the stairs and open the door from the other side. Memories resurfaced of my childhood. Irrational fear of the dark, hiding from the boogie man from my closet, reading Steven King and different horror stories of all flavors, the basement of my old house, filled with cobwebs and old antiques that were decades old. How I would hear things down there scurrying, lurking, waiting to jump at me . . .
For a moment, I thought of waiting till tomorrow during the day get the Christmas lights, or better yet, have my eldest go get them for me. I immediately shook my head. “This is ridiculous!” I thought. “There’s no one in the basement! Toby was five years old. Children make up these things all the time, its what they do. I’ve been to the basement a week before and I’ve been here all day. Nobody was in there.”
Defiantly, I opened the basement door. The stair case lead to a landing where the stairs continue to the right. The sides of the stairs are walled off so the basement wasn’t visible. I then flicked the light switch but nothing happened. I re-flipped the light switch and the lights still wouldn’t turn on. I could’ve sworn I changed the bulbs a month or so ago.
Determined to not let my childhood fears get the best of me, I went to the kitchen and fished out a flashlight. After checking if the batteries still worked I ventured downstairs and stopped on the landing. The light from the living room spilled only to the landing, leaving the rest of the basement in the unnaturally dark. I turned on the flashlight and slowly traversed down the increasingly creaking stairs. Our basement was a cluttered maze of stacked boxes, old furniture, and other forgotten antiques. I searched my mind and vaguely remembered the lights being in a box in the far corner of the room. I maneuvered my way through the clutter careful not to knock anything over. My ears were perked listening to the abstract silence. As I was half way through my nerves were on end. I kept looking at the corner of my eye, insuring that the shadow next to me was mine alone. I steadied my breathing through my nose to minimize any noise I made. Suddenly I kicked a night stand knocking the lamp on top over. I grabbed it before it hit the ground, the wobble of the night stand was deafening as well as the silence soon after. Placing the lamp on the table I continued my search. Fear started overtake me, I could feel my fight or flight senses go haywire telling me turn and leave. My courage draining as I actively had to push my reluctant, shaking body foreword.
I thought I felt my heart stopped when I shined my light on a figure in front of me. I backed up into a stacked pile of boxes as my mind was failing to process the terror before my eyes. It had no face, it’s body was covered in wild fur, its arms were outstretched towards me. My toes were curled, ready to run but then . . . I realized it was a mannequin, wearing a brown fur coat, fuzzy pink scarf, and a feathered hat. I exhale, hoping the fear would leave with my breath. I felt emotionally exhausted as I passed by the mannequin and my eyes set on the Christmas lights hanging on top of stacked boxes. I snatched the lights, pulling them out being rather haphazardly. As I started to wrap the lights around my arm I heard a crash. I turned back immediately, shining the light on the mannequin which was now facing me. Next to it three boxes lay on the floor, its contents spilling out. At first, I questioned how the mannequin turned towards me but decided shrugged it off, figuring the falling boxes cause it to turn. “Or did it cause the boxes to fall?” A random thought popped into my head. I shook it off and made my way pass the boxes not bothering to clean up the mess. As I did I shrank from the mannequins outstretched hands, fearing to even let them graze me.
I hastened my pace rather quickly this time, not bothering to be careful as I bumped into several things with little regard. Behind I heard crashes as things fell over followed by a light tapping sound. I rushed further as I realized it sound like footsteps other than my own. I dared not look back, not wanting to confirm what my mind was conjuring, not wanting to see that stiff form moving towards me. As the footsteps came closer I stared to sprint, jumping over the old couch and knocking over boxes without care. I made it to the stairs and hopped two or three steps at time. As I made it to the landing and turned to run up the second staircase I saw a glimpse of my pursuer. The mannequin was crawling on the stairs after me, it once stiff hands were know open with jagged ends, its faceless head stared right at me. I dashed upwards, hand on the railing which I was grateful for as I slipped on a stair but manage to catch myself. As I continued my run I felt it’s jagged fingers narrowly grasping my pants leg. I made it to the top and as I turned to see the monstrous creature lunging from the stairs towards me, I slammed the door hearing, to my satisfaction, it crash down the stairs, breaking and snapping apart. I leaned against the door, slowly sliding down. I sat on the ground, covered in sweat, my neck tie askew, my glasses hanging on one ear, the Christmas lights forgottenly wrapped on my arm. Toby turned to look at me, his expression rather calm.
“Told you someone was in there.”