I Hate the Basement - From an Idea to a Story
Sept 24, 2015 18:54:07 GMT
RandomSneak and harleyholyhonda like this
Post by MrsHuff on Sept 24, 2015 18:54:07 GMT
The girl opened the door. It was really dark in the basement. She didn’t like the dark.
She pulled the chain to turn on the light. Once it was bright in the basement, she saw a spider in front of her. She screamed.
“Sandy, go get out the Christmas decorations,” Mom called from the kitchen.
I sighed, blowing a piece of hair out of my face, and turned off the TV. SpongeBob was the only thing on, anyway. “Sure, Mom.” I didn’t bother grabbing my glasses off the end table. “Even though I hate the basement.”
One thing you need to know, I hate the basement. I’ve hated it for as long as I can remember. When I was three, my Dad forgot that I was down there and he turned the light off while I was down there.
When I was five and a half, my older brother Connor bolted up the stairs and held the door shut. I pounded on the door and cried until I passed out. He got in a lot of trouble, but it didn’t make up for me being locked in that nightmare hole.
Two years ago, I wanted to have my friends sleep over to celebrate graduating from eighth grade, but my parents said we had to sleep in the basement. That party got mysteriously cancelled for no apparent reason.
I had a bad feeling as I touched the doorknob to the basement. You know how you just get a feeling that something bad is going to happen? Yeah, I had that feeling. The basement demon was going to get me today. I just knew it.
The room was poorly designed, like all basements. The light switch, a string hanging from a dingy bulb, was at the bottom of the steps. So I had to walk down the steps in semi-darkness (I never closed the basement door when I went down there) to the light switch. “Ugh, I hate the basement…”
I grabbed the railing in a white knuckle grip, using it as a lifeline to reach the string. Blindly, I reached out for the switch, grasping air until I felt it. “Let there be light,” I mumbled.
It worked. Dull yellow light flooded the bare gray room. The decorations were in a cabinet on the opposite side of the room. The bulb flickered, but seemed to be working
I squinted. What looked like a dandelion seed floated down in front of my eyes. I moved a little closer. I should have known better. This was horror-basement. That delicate floating seed? Yeah, actually a large white spider.
A screech pierced the calm suburban air. My scream. The light flickered and turned off as I saw the spider float toward me.
I was in my room under the covers faster than I thought it was possible for me to run. “I hate the basement!”
She pulled the chain to turn on the light. Once it was bright in the basement, she saw a spider in front of her. She screamed.
“Sandy, go get out the Christmas decorations,” Mom called from the kitchen.
I sighed, blowing a piece of hair out of my face, and turned off the TV. SpongeBob was the only thing on, anyway. “Sure, Mom.” I didn’t bother grabbing my glasses off the end table. “Even though I hate the basement.”
One thing you need to know, I hate the basement. I’ve hated it for as long as I can remember. When I was three, my Dad forgot that I was down there and he turned the light off while I was down there.
When I was five and a half, my older brother Connor bolted up the stairs and held the door shut. I pounded on the door and cried until I passed out. He got in a lot of trouble, but it didn’t make up for me being locked in that nightmare hole.
Two years ago, I wanted to have my friends sleep over to celebrate graduating from eighth grade, but my parents said we had to sleep in the basement. That party got mysteriously cancelled for no apparent reason.
I had a bad feeling as I touched the doorknob to the basement. You know how you just get a feeling that something bad is going to happen? Yeah, I had that feeling. The basement demon was going to get me today. I just knew it.
The room was poorly designed, like all basements. The light switch, a string hanging from a dingy bulb, was at the bottom of the steps. So I had to walk down the steps in semi-darkness (I never closed the basement door when I went down there) to the light switch. “Ugh, I hate the basement…”
I grabbed the railing in a white knuckle grip, using it as a lifeline to reach the string. Blindly, I reached out for the switch, grasping air until I felt it. “Let there be light,” I mumbled.
It worked. Dull yellow light flooded the bare gray room. The decorations were in a cabinet on the opposite side of the room. The bulb flickered, but seemed to be working
I squinted. What looked like a dandelion seed floated down in front of my eyes. I moved a little closer. I should have known better. This was horror-basement. That delicate floating seed? Yeah, actually a large white spider.
A screech pierced the calm suburban air. My scream. The light flickered and turned off as I saw the spider float toward me.
I was in my room under the covers faster than I thought it was possible for me to run. “I hate the basement!”