Short Horror Stories

The Basement

He had only been living in that house for a day or so when things unfolded and tore his life from limb to limb. It was already a struggle for him having moved house with his two kids, Chris (13) and Lois (8), who have both faced loss too soon. One that still haunted him to this day. It had been a difficult decision moving out of that house which had once been a loving home to a family of five. And then leaving the second in a police van, handcuffed.

My name is Gordon Humphrey, a psychiatrist at a prison. With my job you hear many tales but none caught my attention as much as John Kroh's, a tale of the supernatural. He used to sprout it when he had arrived and was placed under my care but eventually calmed down. I thought I'd give him the opportunity for it to be heard and set him off on a task to re-encounter what had happened, to write his history for the world to hear. Today, with his permission and the head prison guards I have released it to the press for people to hear his story. He's already been set on for life so what's wrong with letting his story be released. Fictitious or not.

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Thursday 23rd October, 2036
"The Basement: A story written by the murderer John Kroh and published by Gordon Humphrey."

It all began on the 1st of January 2023, a new year and another round of happiness that spread throughout my old home. My wife was sat nestled against me with our youngest, Kathy, Chris and Lois perched on opposite ends. We were all watching deadpool 2, watching as he swung from the ledge of the boat, clutching the vessel that entrapped his beloved. All was well, we were a happy loving family and nothing would get between us.

That was until the next day.

A single phonecall was what set it off, the ringing echoing through the quiet landing. The air was thick as I got up from the couch and made my way over to my mobile which was sat on the dining room table. The kids were sat enjoying a small creative activity of making paper boats, awaiting my wife to come home so they can show off what they had learnt through a short YouTube video. The screen showed a no caller Id, flickering shades of green and blue.

"Hello?"

I was met with silence as the other side crackled, almost like when an old TV loses connection and produces that static depiction across its screen. I look over to the kids who were still in their own worlds, giggling and stealing pens from each other.

"Hello?" I try again, stepping away from the two and entering back into the living room.

As if like a switch the static disappears and a voice plays through.

"John, can you hear me?"

I smile subtly and settle myself down on the loveseat perched beneath the window, the sun peering through the gap in the curtains.

"Hey, gorge-"

"John, if you hear this, I love you so much. I'm sorry... we won't make it back."

My smile drops slightly, eyes shifting to the kids who now peered over at me, curious. "Is there too much traffic? Do you need the kids and I to come get you?"

"I'm sorry, John."

A loud bang resonates through my ear. The screams were loud, piercing my very being and tearing through my heart. They were my wife's. The line cuts and I'm left sat on the couch, arm dropping loose to my side as I rewind what just happened. Her words swim around my mind as I try to piece together what I had just heard.

That was the last I had seen of my wife and Kathy. What made things worse was there was no news report of a large crash or a shooting, or anything. I made police reports and countless calls, frantic as I may be, to uncover what had happened to my family. Nothing came about it, not even a mention of their names. Chris and Lois were devastated; I was devastated.