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    The Basement
    The Basement
    The Basement
    Ebook261 pages4 hours

    The Basement

    By Ty Johnston

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    About this ebook

    A new house, a new job, the future before them, the Dinsmores thought they had everything. Yet dreams of the good life quickly give way to a reality of darkness as the young couple begins to move into their new home.

    For something looms in the basement of the house, something that brings cold, that brings memories and fear and hatred. Terrible things happened in that house long ago, culminating in the basement itself, and now after the house has sat empty for years, something in the basement has found a direction for its rage.

    The Dinsmores will never be the same. Even if they survive.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTy Johnston
    Release dateJul 24, 2018
    ISBN9780463589939
    The Basement
    Author

    Ty Johnston

    Originally from Kentucky, Ty Johnston is a former newspaper journalist. He lives in North Carolina with loving memories of his late wife.Blog: tyjohnston.blogspot.com

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      Book preview

      The Basement - Ty Johnston

      The Basement

      by Ty Johnston

      a Monumental Works Group author

      Copyright 2018 by Ty Johnston

      visit the author’s website: tyjohnston.blogspot.com

      sign up for the author’s newsletter: tinyletter.com/TyJohnston

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      for Emma

      still

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 1

      The first sight Pete Dinsmore had of the house was through the passenger seat window of Natalie Towers’ Lincoln. It’s beautiful, he thought, followed up by, There’s no way we’ll be able to afford it, not on my salary. The place must have been nearly a century old, and it had been constructed in an unusual style, a mixture of Edwardian and Queen Anne with a touch of Second Empire. As Natalie pulled the car around the gravel drive in front of the house, Pete realized the place looked quite historic, and expensive, in the light of day, but at night its looming towers and black iron rails along the rooftops would probably appear quite creepy.

      You love it, don’t you? Tabitha asked from the back seat, one of her hands resting on Pete’s shoulders.

      He glanced back at his wife with a smile. That was all he needed to do. That simple look spoke more than words could have shared.

      I knew you would, she said, looking pleased with herself and excited at showing him the place.

      She said you would fall in love with the house, Natalie Towers piped up from the driver’s seat as she brought the Lincoln to a stop and turned off the engine. The real estate agent was all smiles herself, her hair high and a nearly-white blond above the bright pink power suit that made her look like a model for a seniors’ shopping catalog. She opened her car door and said, Shall we take a look?

      Pete climbed out of the long car and held open the back door for Tabitha, who was still all smiles, and the pair held hands as they followed Natalie Towers up the wooden steps leading to the house’s front entrance.

      This is the original door, Natalie said, gesturing towards the paneled oak monstrosity with its pair of yellow windows.

      It looks brand new, Pete said as he and Tabitha finished the climb to the front porch.

      The real estate agent couldn’t help but keep smiling. It was kept in good shape by the owners, and it’s been taken well care of. She fished a key from a pocket and inserted it into the door.

      "It’s all original," Tabitha said, still beaming, leading Pete to wonder if smiles weren’t becoming contagious.

      Not all, Natalie said as the door’s lock clicked and she pocketed the key. She turned the front knob and gently pushed the door open to reveal a darkened hallway with wood floors the color of tea. "The house has been renovated a couple of times over the last century, most recently just a few years ago.

      Tabitha, dear, why don’t you take him in and show him around?

      Her smile showing no sign of fading, Tabitha pulled her husband forward. Come on. I want to show you the tower.

      Pete let himself be tugged forward like a puppy on a leash. As he entered the front hall, his eyes adjusted to the gloom and he could make out an entrance to a large room on his left as well as broad stairs that rose on the right into shadows filtered by sunlight coming through a tall window at the top of the steps on the second floor. Straight ahead, the wooden floor stretched forth a goodly distance to an opening which hinted at another room, this one in the back of the house, pale light from windows spreading their glow about the place.

      Before he had time to comment or ask questions, Tabby was pulling him up the stairs.

      It’ll be perfect for your office, she said, or maybe it could be my art studio. The light isn’t as good as I’d like, but I could put in some extra lamps.

      Now Pete found himself smiling. He couldn’t help himself. Seeing Tabby excited brought it out in him.

      Don’t forget the rest of the house, Natalie Towers said with a chuckle from the front door.

      Allowing himself to be led up the stairs, Pete took in the old chintz wallpaper with a yellow background and pale, multi-colored flowers. Despite the real estate agent’s words, he was surprised to find the wallpaper in such good condition considering its possible age, and he was just as surprised to find the carpet that ran up the steps beneath his feet to be in equally good condition.

      How old did you say this place was? he yelled downstairs as he and the wife reached the top of the steps.

      A little more than a century, Natalie said loudly from below.

      Tabitha wouldn’t let him stop there, though. She tugged on his hand as they crossed beneath the tall window spreading sunlight on the stairs. She took him down a hall past closed doors, only stopping when they reached an opening towards the front of the house, more stairs of a darker wood hinted at beyond.

      Here Tabby turned and grabbed Pete by both hands, staring deep into his eyes. I loved this place as soon as I saw it, she said, but this -- and here she jabbed her head towards the opening and its steep stairs, -- this truly won me over.

      But, honey, we can’t--

      No, not yet, she said, still retaining that smile. We can talk about the serious stuff once you’ve seen the tower and the rest of the house.

      He didn’t have time to argue further for she pulled him yet again up a flight of steps, these more steep and narrow than the ones connecting the first and second floors. There was even a bend in the stairs, one Pete might have missed if not for his wife and her foreknowledge of what to expect, for there was no light here beyond what little crept through the doorway and a bare glimmer from above.

      They came up to a flat landing, then went around another turn and up another short flight of steps, then came out in a square room with a high ceiling, even higher than those of the other floors and those had been higher than modern houses. From each of the four walls high windows rose to unsheath the day’s sunlight across the room, layering the floor in brightness, though the ceiling itself remained sheltered in gloom.

      Pete spun around slowly, taking in the whole chamber. It was not a big room, though it would indeed have been big enough for an office. There was enough space for an art studio, but he recognized from experience with his wife’s work that the lighting was not right, though there was plenty of it.

      I would have to put in ceiling lights, Tabitha said, her grin showing no signs of diminishing, or maybe some tall lamps.

      Pete stopped swirling about and simply stared at the room, its sturdy floor, the windows that nearly reached from the floor to the ceiling, the apex of that ceiling more than fifteen feet above, even the dust motes dancing in the air. He could smell age here, but it was not a moldy age, more the woodsy age of work, of the long-ago craftsmen and builders who had created this place, the highest spot in the house, the highest spot for miles around.

      And then Pete turned and looked at his wife of nearly seven years. Her attention caught by the antique dynamics of the room, her eyes were not on him. She did not see as his grin slipped, his lips settling into a solid line of contentment, of happiness. Tabitha, too, appeared happy. More than that, she appeared beautiful, standing there with her eyes wide and bright, her auburn hair glimmering almost gold in the sunlight.

      Part of Peter Dinsmore cried inside. Yes, he could make an office here, but the space was made for Tabitha. It was as if those long-ago construction workers had known a century down the road there would be someone who could make use of the height and the light. He could see this by the glint in Tabby’s eyes. There was love there, and visions of the future, of what she could make of this space.

      It’s yours, Pete said without thinking of finances for the moment, his own smile widening. It’s a perfect spot for your easels and canvasses. We could put in some shelving for your paints and stuff.

      What’s he think, honey? Natalie shouted from somewhere below.

      With a pat to one of Pete’s arms, Tabitha moved to the top of the stairs and yelled down, He says it’s all mine!

      Laughter came up to them from the first floor.

      The rest of the tour went more quickly. Four bedrooms, a modernized kitchen with new granite counter tops, a large living room, an even larger dining room, a bathroom on each floor, Tabby had seen it all before, and she had already been sold on the place. And Pete, he allowed his better half to waltz across the smooth wooden floors, showing each room to him as if she were the real estate agent instead of Natalie Towers. For Natalie’s part, she stayed out of the way near the house’s open front door, knowing she had already done her job by selling the property to one of the spouses.

      What do you think? Tabby asked as she stood with her husband in the downstairs hallway.

      I do like it, Pete began, but how are we going to --

      Possibly sensing where the conversation was headed, Natalie came forward as if to put a stall to it, at least for the time being. Then the two women began discussing the house almost like a pair of excited schoolgirls, leaving Peter to his own devices for the moment. As his wife and the real estate agent stood chatting in the downstairs hallway, Pete meandered around, finally making his way to the kitchen.

      Though no expert, Pete had spent a couple of summers in his teen years working construction in suburbs, so he felt he had a fair enough eye for quality building work, and what he had seen of this house had impressed him. Whomever the contractor had been who had done the most recent renovation had done excellent work entwining the handful of modern touches, such as the electrical outlets with USB ports and of course the white kitchen cabinets and stone counter tops, with the original structure and design of the house.

      Glancing around the kitchen one more, he became more and more impressed. Then he stared out the back windows into the large yard that stretched nearly a hundred yards to a tree line. During the drive up to the place he had noticed a couple of cleared acres surrounded the house except for a few giant, ancient oak trees. Beyond had been acres and acres of forest, the nearest neighbor being at least a quarter mile away.

      He couldn’t help but smile again. This would be the perfect place to raise children. Over the years he and Tabby had talked about kids, but they had always put it off, saying it wasn’t the right time or the right place. But now he had a new job, one that paid better than any other he had ever had, and this house in the country could very well be a perfect place for children.

      Yet despite his own growing appreciation, he felt there was little reason to linger. They could not afford such a house. The matter was that simple. Yes, his new salary was quite nice, but even with the money Tabby brought in from her art sales, there was no chance they would be able to purchase this house and property, even with both of them having good credit ratings.

      He turned to leave the kitchen and head back to the women to discuss financial concerns with Tabitha when he spotted a door off to one side, a door he had not noticed before now and which Tabby had not pointed out to him. The door had been built in an odd place, just off the kitchen near the entrance hallway, almost as if it were a closet, but a closet should have been built closer to the house’s entrance and not near the back next to the kitchen.

      But maybe it was a closet. Construction practices during the early Twentieth Century hadn’t been as stringent or as owner-friendly as more modern trends. There was only one way to find out if the door did lead to a closet. He grasped the door’s brass knob and turned. It would not budge.

      Locked.

      Ladies? he said, raising his voice high so better to be heard from the distance.

      Yes, what is it, Mr. Dinsmore? Natalie Towers said as she and Tabitha approached.

      Where does this go? Pete asked, nodding towards the strange door.

      Natalie gave a brief chuckle as if to make a point of her own forgetfulness. It leads to the basement. She turned and glanced at Tabitha. Didn’t you tell him about it?

      Completely slipped my mind, Tabby said, shrugging. Do you have a key this time?

      Natalie removed an old, dark skeleton key from a pocket and moved around Peter to insert the key in the lock. My apologies to the both of you. When Mrs. Dinsmore was here before, I hadn’t had the key with me, and the property owner lives several hours from here. He must have forgotten to leave me the key, so I had to call and have him mail it.

      So you’ve not seen the basement? Pete asked of his wife.

      Tabby shook her head with a smile. It’ll be new to me.

      If it’s as nice as the rest of the house, it should be something to see, Pete said.

      The real estate agent unlocked the door and pulled it open.

      Chapter 2

      The basement was not as nice as the rest of the house. That much was clear as soon as Natalie moved out of the way for the Dinsmores to see. Lanky wooden steps stretched downward into darkness, and the walls appeared covered in thin horizontal slats, showing these walls had never been properly covered. Nothing could be seen in that darkness below, the light from the kitchen’s windows only lingering along the first few steps. Worse was the coldness that seeped forth from the opening, not enough to raise bumps along the arms, but noticeable.

      So you’ve not seen this place? Pete asked his wife again.

      No, Tabby said.

      This’ll be my first view, too, Natalie Towers said. Sorry, again. You two are the first to look at the place, and with the home owner not living nearby, it’s been a bit of a struggle to make all the arrangements with him.

      Pete stuck his head in the door and found a light switch along the right wall. Reaching in, he flicked the switch and a dull, buzzing glow sprang into life below, revealing the steps ending at a concrete floor.

      Noting the walls again, Pete said, It looks as if the renovations didn’t extend down here.

      I suppose that could be, Natalie said. The owner didn’t mention it, but then he’s never lived here.

      Pete and Tabby looked to the agent.

      Never been here? Pete asked.

      Oh, he’s been here, Natalie said, just never lived here. He inherited the property from a great uncle who passed away a few years ago. Sad case. The man was old, in his nineties, and had lived alone a long time. Never had any children.

      Did you know him? Tabby asked.

      Wondering what she meant by the question, Pete gave Tabby a quizzical look, but then he realized it made a certain amount of sense. The nearest town was a small one and Natalie Towers was a local, so it might have been understandable for her to have known the man.

      Yet, Never met him, Natalie said, her ever present smile faltering a bit. He was so old, I suppose not too many people living knew him other than maybe a caregiver or two.

      I guess that makes sense, Tabby said. what with this place being a few miles outside of town. I guess nobody came out here much.

      Natalie’s smile regained its former strength. That’s true. Until the current owner contacted our offices, I hadn’t even known this place was available for sale.

      No obit in the local paper? Pete asked.

      The former owner apparently had been moved to a hospice in another town, Natalie said, and I suppose he must have passed there. The paper there probably had something, but no, not our local one. Like I said, not many people knew him, so nobody probably even knew he had been moved.

      The story struck Pete as odd, perhaps even a little creepy, but he realized there were probably lots of elderly people who lived alone throughout this great big country, people who had little or no family or were estranged from what family they had. Some of them, possibly like the fellow Natalie was talking about, had even outlived all their family and friends. It truly was a sad situation.

      Pete shook off the brief feeling of unease and turned to face the basement entrance once more. Shall we? he asked, motioning towards the stairs.

      After you, Natalie said with her now-familiar smile.

      Pete made his way forward and downward, the steps creaking beneath his loafers but not enough to cause him real concern. He noticed right away that everything here conveyed old age, from the rickety stairs to the rough concrete below and even the three light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, each of the lights shedding an almost orange paleness from long bulbs connected to white sockets that appeared to be ceramic instead of the modern plastic, gray cords almost hairy lacing up from the lights to disappear into the basement’s ceiling. At first these were all Pete could see, but as he made his way down the stairs one step at a time, more of the basement revealed itself to him. Still, he could not see very far, as the lights of the three dim bulbs did not reach much beyond the floor at the bottom of the stairwell.

      But what he did find did not come as a complete surprise. Junk. Lots and lots of junk. In all fairness, he considered much of this junk might actually be antiques worth a few dollars to someone somewhere. To his right stood a tall lamp with a faded shade that appeared to have been in style when his grandparents were young, resting against it on the floor a Teddy bear, and Pete wondered if the stuffed toy were an original to the first President Roosevelt’s tenure in the White House. To Pete’s left appeared a long trunk low to the ground, the thing solid and heavy and made of dark, stained wood and layered with black iron bands as if it were some lost treasure chest of Black Beard, the lock on the front adding a final touch to the piratical theme. Stretching across the middle of his view were numerous old crates of wood layered with cobwebs, here and there a few metal racks standing as tall as Peter himself, each shelf of the racks sporting various knick-knacks such as baseball gloves, an old rope, porcelain figures, browned bottles, some dusty china plates, a snow globe with a miniature Washington Monument inside, wooden toy blocks with faded paint ... really more than the eye could see all in one viewing. Beyond this line of ... stuff, junk ... the darkness hinted at even more, old barrels, another wooden chest, old dolls with hard faces and red cheeks and black eyes, and more, much more. It was impossible to see all of it.

      Even if more lighting had been available, Pete didn’t know if he wanted to see any more. There was something disturbing here, yet also something sad. All these things, each held memories for someone, for people long dead, and here it had been hidden away in the basement of a

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