Heavily drowsy yet in need of waking, Thomas opened his eyes. They hurt like tiny microscopic people had lit fires on his scleras while he was asleep. He went to turn on the light but found a yellow sticky note, "Light doesn't work." It read. Still, just to be sure, he tried it anyway. Nothing.
He sighed, then went into the bathroom and washed his face. His eyes still hurt but the water helped a little. After that, he went into the kitchen and made himself a bowl of cereal.
He was reaching into the drawer for a spoon when he heard the creaking noise again. It was so low and soft that, since nothing was drowning out the sound, it stopped him mid-motion. He felt his spine crawl, then nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the loud slam that soon followed.
He stepped out of the kitchen but again found no evidence of movement. However, it was at this moment that he finally noticed the door in the middle of the hallway. The hallway which led to the bedroom. "It's right there," He thought, "how did I miss it last night?" He put it off as him simply being tired, using his recent move as a justification for the thought process, and proceeded to finish his breakfast.
He didn't turn on the TV this morning, it would just distract him from the vast section of the day that he'd reserved for chores. He headed out back to the shed he saw yesterday, noticing once more the bright pink sticky note attached to the door.
He walked up to the note and plucked it from the shed door. It read, "Lawnmower out of gas. Chainsaw has broken rotor. Weed eater won't start" Well, that put a damper on today's plans. He sighed and went back inside.
He was about to turn on the TV when he looked down the hallway that lead to the bedroom. It took him about a second to realize he was staring at the door in the hallway, and another three to realize it was standing wide open.
He walked cautiously towards the door, his mind racing. For a second day living by himself, he didn't like it much. When he got to the door he couldn't help but look inside. It was a staircase, leading down to the cellar. It was pitch black at the bottom of the stairs. He immediately closed the door, took a deep breath, and went back into the living room. Living here was gonna be weird, the door must just have a bad hinge.
As he sat in the living room, watching TV, he couldn't shake the dreadful feeling that when he looked down those stairs, another pair of eyes was looking back.
YOU ARE READING
The Dark Depths: The Cellar
HorrorA college graduate, this Thomas boy. A brand new house he's made his toy. The landlord is a strange old fart. A shame he doesn't play the part. Listen closely to your dreams. The Cellar isn't what it seems. Book One of the Dark Depths Trilogy.
