Chapter Text
The door that led to the basement creaked as I pushed it open. Goosebumps erupted over my arms, shoulder jerking upwards to rub at my left ear. My hands were more occupied with a camcorder, muscle memory taking over as I turned it on and pressed record. It was dark. I didn’t think to grab a flashlight, hoping there would be windows to let some natural sunlight guide my way instead. Clearly, that was a stupid thought. A hand ghosts over my arm, and I flinch back with a scream.
“Hey! Woah, it’s just me,” Alison chuckles. In her extended hand was an extra flashlight, “Thought you might need this.” I nod, heart still racing from the scare. I grab it, pushing the switch upwards. Light cascades down the stairs and over the walls. There’s graffiti, which isn’t surprising, as the building we’re in had been empty for quite some time. Alison found it on some online ‘abandoned exploration’ forum. It was something the two of us were always interested in, so we thought “why not?”. We weren’t just doing this for fun, of course. We had a YouTube channel, and after only doing this for a year or so, we were nearing 600k subscribers and were making money off of it. We decided to make a drive to Kansas City, Missouri to check out some kind of ‘murder house’. Apparently, some kid went full psycho and killed his family, then just didn’t stop. The weird thing is that nobody can find any other information on the guy. It’s like he doesn’t exist. Anyway, that brings us to here.
A cold draft made its way up to us, now wishing I’d brought a jacket. Alison took one last look into the room, whispering “good luck” before traveling back through the hallway. I scoffed, making sure the camera was focused before slowly descending down the stairs. I never knew there could be so many spiderwebs in one place, ducking my head so much that my neck was starting to hurt. There was a smell that seemed to get stronger the further I went. Obviously, it had to be from mold or water damage on the carpet, but there was a clear scent of something…irony. I tried not to think too hard about it, making up some commentary for the video.
“Lots of names on this wall…and there’s a dick, how classy. Moving on!” My ears picked up on what sounded like muffled laughter. “What the hell was that?” I muttered to myself, swinging the flashlight around to light up the space behind me. “Ah, what kind of content creator would I be if I didn’t go in the creepy ass closet,” I forced myself to move closer. My foot sunk into the carpet just before the door, resulting in a quiet squelch! I cringed and stumbled backwards, bumping into something behind me. I froze, breath caught in my throat. My mind starts running through everything that could happen, most ending in some sort of death caught on camera. ‘Just make it cool, please’ morbidly crosses my mind.
I work up the courage to turn around, camera still rolling. I’m met with a white hoodie, at least it used to be. It was stained in various shades of reds and browns, ripped in places and stitched up in others. My eyes traveled upwards, widening when I realized the hoodie was in fact attached to a person who had clearly gone through some shit. I subconsciously tilt the camera up to capture the face of this…monster. He raised a hand, placing it on the camera to slightly push it back down. Only when he leaned down did I understand how he towered over me. The flashlight flickered, beginning to dim. The smile on this thing's face somehow grew wider. The room was suddenly blanketed in darkness, every other sense becoming heightened. A loud thump! sounds from somewhere upstairs, and I jump as my head swivels over to the stairs.
“(Y/N)! Get up here!” Alison’s muffled voice travels through the house, causing the terrifying stranger to straighten back up.
“Yeah, get the hell outta here,” His voice is a lot less pleasant, sounding gravelly and flat, with an undertone of a southern accent. I try my flashlight, which finally flickers back to life. I glanced back to where the man was standing, but only saw the empty, musty basement. ‘Did…that just happen?’ I raise a brow, eyes falling back to the stain on the floor. I start up the stairs, looking over my shoulder one last time. I shrug, nonchalantly closing the door behind me. ______________________________________________
As expected, Alison didn’t believe me. I even showed her the camera footage, which was going good up until the video froze and the audio cut out completely. Describing the person did nothing for her, either. She just laughed it off, telling me that it would’ve been great for the video. Then, she’s leading me to a bedroom at the end of the hallway. When we entered, I saw what caused the loud thump! A practically splintering, wooden ladder disappeared into the dim attic overhead. The same smell from the basement lingered up there too, wafting down to us. I scrunch up my nose, shaking my head.
“This is all you, bud. It was nice knowing ya.” I place a hand on Alison’s shoulder, giving a hard pat for good measure. She tilts her head, “Seriously? You don’t want to see what’s up there?” She grabs the camcorder from my hands, pressing record once again. I shook my head, starting to say something, only to be interrupted by a long crrrrreeeak! emitting from somewhere else in the house. We glance at each other, before fighting to scramble up the wobbly ladder. I make it up first, moving out of the way so Alison can head up after. We sit on the edge of the entry, Alison giving some more context as to what happened in the house. Blah blah blah murder, blah blah deranged psycho, you know the drill. Bored already, I carefully stand so as to not hit my head on the low ceiling. There are a few boxes next to me, dusty and full of junk and bug carcasses. I cringe, flicking them off the pile of yearbooks.
The first one I pulled out has the name of some elementary school, and the years ‘2005-2006’ are labeled on the front. I begin flipping through the pages, the nearly faded scent of cigarette smoke wafting into my face as I do so. I land on a page with a huge burn mark taking the place of a kid's face. The name underneath is scribbled out. I flip forward some more, finding the same instance on one other page. This kid was from an older class. I grab another yearbook that says ‘2008-2009’ and look through it, finding the exact same thing done to a kid in the 6th grade and another from the 8th grade. All the same, both kids 2 years apart. No names, no faces. I continued until the box was void of anything but a few dust bunnies. Anything else was just photo albums with the same treatment. I wiped my hands on my pants, and stood from my cross cross position on the floor, a resounding crack coming from my knees. I stretched my arms back a little, now bending down to grab the books to put them back in place. Alison had left partway through, saying something about searching another room. A board creaked from behind me, my head whipping around so fast, it could've killed me. ‘Nothing. Of course.’ I quickly finished up in this room, wanting to get this over with.
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“Hey (Y/N), can you come here really quick?”, She hurriedly spoke as she peeked her head around the doorframe of a room down the hall. I briskly made my way to the area and stopped at her side. I peek around her into the bedroom, and was shocked.
“The door was locked, so I just shoved my way in here.”
“You think we should call someone?” I pointed the camera lens towards the aged, jelly-like red spot on the floor beside the rusted bed frame. This room reeked of damp, molded wood. We should’ve brought masks with us. Alison’s voice is muffled, her sleeve partially covering her mouth.
“No, it could’ve been a wounded animal or something. Just came in for shelter?” Her words come out as a question, as if she doesn’t believe it herself. I see something out of the corner of my eye, stepping over the blood. Wisps of what I hoped was yarn were tucked away behind a cardboard box labeled ‘fragile’. Lumps of flesh and skin are still attached to the tangled strawberry blonde hair, slightly glistening when my flashlight is directed at it.
“I don’t think that’s an animal.”