Descent into the basement
Illustration by Christina Papagianni
Natasha made it out of her building and ran down the street toward Robbie’s basement to aid her friend. It was dark and creepy outside. The streetlights were dim and cast weird shadows on the pavement. The block seemed isolated—as if it was the end of the world and she was the only survivor! Had she entered another dimension, a parallel world where she was the only person alive, like something out of the Twilight Zone? Natasha had a great imagination, but, under the circumstances, she did not feel it was helping her this night.
When Natasha reached the entrance to the basement, it seemed like the entrance to a great cave. She was afraid to enter, but determined not to waste any more time, so she stepped into the unknown. It was so dark, and the light from the street did not illuminate past the first couple of steps.
Then a realization struck her. “I didn’t bring a flashlight! How could I have been so stupid?” she admonished herself. “How will I get to the bottom without falling on my face and breaking my neck?”
Unlike Robbie’s mom before her, Natasha saw the big, yellow flashlight sitting in its dark little corner. Natasha gasped and opened her eyes wide. “That’s Robbie’s flashlight,” she told herself in a low voice.
She grabbed the flashlight, searched for the switch, and flipped it. No radiance shone from its reflector. She turned it in her hand and heard a rattling sound. She tried to open the battery housing, but it was stuck. She unscrewed the top of the flashlight, figuring she could get straight to the battery compartment this way. She lost her grip on the flashlight; she fumbled, and it flew out of her hand. She squeaked and leaped toward it, managing to grab the flashlight, but not before a couple of the batteries rolled down the cement steps.
“Oh no.” She pressed her rosy, full lips together tightly. “Now what am I going to do?”
Natasha pondered the descent into the basement. She decided the only way she would be able to do it would be to sit on the top step, and, in a seated position, slide off one step and then onto the one below it, feeling her way down with her hands, feet, and legs. In this fashion she went down, one scratchy concrete step at a time.
She knew her method would ruin her pajamas, but she figured it was a small price to pay. She never imagined she would be so scared. She was not normally afraid of the dark; then again, she never had reason to fear what was in it before.
At first she was able to see shadowy figures scuttling about. Ick! Bugs! she thought, narrowing her eyes and wrinkling the bridge of her nose. After a while, she could not see a thing. I thought my eyes would eventually adjust and I would be able to see a little, but boy, was that false. She realized she was going to be blind down there. She would have to fine-tune her other senses to get through it.
She proceeded to scoot down the steps on her bottom. A sluggish, heavy, ugly stench began to intrude upon her awareness as it filled her nasal cavities. She grimaced with revulsion. She pinched her nose and continued to move down, using only one hand to balance herself, since the other was trying to prevent the unpleasant odors from bombarding her nostrils, and she lurched. She slid to the next cement step hard, and in order to prevent hurting herself, she quickly brought her other hand down on the step for support. When she slammed her hand hastily beside her there was a pop and a crunch, and then a squishy sensation on her palm.
“Eeeeww!” she squealed. She imagined the gooey crack of a cockroach’s backbone under the weight of her hand. “Ick!” Immediately she began to rub the palm of her hand on the sidewall nearest her. She retched and vomited a little in her mouth.
As she moved farther down, she began to hear peeping and chirping sounds. She stopped. She listened carefully, her big almond-shaped eyes scanning to the left and to the right. She thought she heard a chorus of trills, peeps, and whistling echoing out of the basement. Birds? Mutant rats! Creatures that are part rat and part bird? What is making those sounds? her muddled mind thought as her efflorescent imagination thrived. Her jaw dropped. I’m sure they can’t fly. Otherwise they would have flown out of this stinky basement by now. Poor Robbie, I must hurry! Panting, she continued to descend the steps one by one, until her feet could no longer find the edge of the next step, which meant she had reached the bottom and was in the basement.
Natasha got up off the last basement step, and, at the same time, she heard something cry out. Her hand flew to cover her mouth. She felt a swift breeze pass in front of her face as if driven by something heavy. She recoiled. She heard a thump, something large hit the ground. What was that? She wondered. The odd chirping and tweeting sounds became huffs and a low-pitch vibrating noise, which resembled a hum and trill combined. It was a soft, mysterious sound but spine-chilling just the same. Was she going crazy?
Then the sounds became—terrible noises, ferocious noises—all around her! She was terrorized, no longer thinking clearly. She was nauseated and numb throughout her body, wanting nothing else but to escape.
She became ashen. Her eyes darted in every direction, her pulse raced, and she gasped openmouthed. She turned and bolted, but not up the steps to safety. She was disoriented and did not know where she was going, plus, she could not see.
Natasha jostled through what felt like large, warm bodies, which brushed her legs and bumped into her. She made noisy, hoarse breathing sounds as she moved. Her fingers were spread so wide by tension they hurt. She opened her mouth to scream but could not produce a sound. As Natasha scrambled to find her way, she slipped on one of the batteries she had dropped earlier, and something massive and horrible crashed into her face, smashing her delicate bones. There was a loud explosion in her head and then there was no more panic, no more fear. There was nothing.
THE BASEMENT is now available for purchase in paperback and eBook
