The basement was cool and damp, the single bulb flickering overhead and casting long, dancing shadows across our storage boxes. We moved toward the back corner where the darkness was deepest.
Suddenly, a soft shuffling noise echoed from beneath the very floorboards we were standing on. It wasn’t coming from the room; it was coming from the narrow crawl space buried under the foundation.
Mark knelt on the cold cement, pressing his ear to the ground as a low, rumbling grunt vibrated through the floor. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst right out of my chest.
“I’m going in,” Mark said, reaching for the hatch that led into the dark, dirt-filled void. I begged him to wait, but he was already pulling the door open with a loud, metallic screech.
He vanished into the hole, the beam of his flashlight bouncing wildly against the low, wooden floor joists above him. I waited at the entrance, praying he wouldn’t scream for help.
Top Articles
