I
I'd always wanted to switch schools. Ever since I grew a spine, I realized how much of a nightmare my old school was—and eventually, I broke and decided to move to the one next door. I thought it'd be a bit of a relief, a new start, or something like that—I desperately needed one—and yet it's been a month and I've already seen something strange.
I'd made it a habit to use the stairs, so I hadn't been on the elevator in my new school since I enrolled. I only ended up using it a few days ago because I was wrecked and couldn't handle walking up the stairs. If I did, my legs would've probably turned to mush. It was my first time on an elevator on this campus, but it wasn't like there was much to expect other than strong silence and hardly-breathable air.
I walked in the elevator, and saw it was emptier than I thought it'd be. People were in it, sure, but not as much as I thought there'd be for a school. For such a spacious elevator, not a lot of people used it, so I was left with the drab metal walls and quiet hums (though in fairness, I might've used the staff elevator on accident, no idea). I leaned on one of the walls as the elevator went down. The ride itself wasn't notable, though it was absolutely awkward—typical of elevators. The weird part happened when we landed on the ground floor.
I let the others step out before I did. Had to hold a button to keep the elevator doors open. This elevator wasn't the fancy kind that kept itself open when people were passing by, so we really had to do that so the doors don't close on someone. God forbid someone dies on campus.
Eventually, the elevator was cleared, so I left. As I walked out though, I noticed it in the corner of my eye. The basement button.
It looked innocuous at first, but it didn't take long for me to question what I saw. A basement button in an elevator wouldn't be a new thing in and of itself—but I was certain that button wasn't ordinary. Far from it. That was because, as far as I knew, there was no basement in the school.
There had been no staircase going below the ground floor, nor have there been any doors that I felt would lead to this basement. Sure, there were utility rooms, but it wasn't like I knew what was in there. I wanted to ask around, but I knew practically nobody inside the school besides my roommate, and I didn't just want to approach random people and ask if there was a basement. That'd just make me seem like a creep. I looked around for a moment, trying to find a door or a sign or what not that suggested a basement, but there was nothing.
The next time I went in that elevator, the button was gone. It took me a moment to realize that, and as soon as I did my mind blanked. I chalked it up as me hallucinating it or seeing things since at the time, I was pretty loopy and tired as hell. It was reasonable to believe that my mind was just messing with me, I guess. And I stuck with that for most of the day, just to get it out of my head. But I saw it again.
When we were dismissed, my groupmates and I worked on this project for at least an hour before we actually did leave. After all of that, I was alone. I didn't have much reason to leave early yet, and I wanted to get accustomed to this new school, so I decided to just... look around for an hour or so. Taking in the sights, even though they weren't that interesting. I finally decided to go home when the hour struck six.
I was on the fourth floor, and I was too tired to walk down all those flights (walking down would've been easier than walking up those stairs in hindsight), so I immediately locked my sights on the elevator. I walked over there and patiently waited for the elevator to reach me.
The doors slid open, and I stepped into that metal box again. Carpeted floor, and plain white metal walls. Nobody else to accompany me. I adjusted my backpack—damn thing could slip off my jacket real easily—and sighed, leaning on the wall. I waited to see if anyone else would go in, but nothing. Students were still typing away on laptops, I guess they were busy. No surprise, considering the workload. Just hope it doesn't get worse... I digress.
When I went to close the doors, there it was—the basement button.
As soon as I saw it again, I froze. I thought me seeing things would've been implausible, but this? In a different building, too? Why would it be here, and why would it be in the elevator students would use? It wasn't like it was in the orientation or anything. I'd never heard any talk of a basement from conversations anywhere in the school, so seeing this made me feel special and like I had a crosshair over my forehead. What would be down there? Had anybody been down there? Maybe the staff had, but had any students been there? Or would I be the first? Should I even go there?
Curiosity took over me, and since apparently I still have no self-control, I pressed it. And so I waited in that elevator, slowly floating down the shaft solo, dreading what I'd see at the other end. And as it kept moving, I felt that fear simmer up. My heart weakened, and my head lightened. How far down was this basement? How long will it take for me to get back? Would I even get back? I didn't know what to expect, but all I knew was that I regretted going through with this more and more as time passed.
And I just kept descending. It must've taken three minutes or so—however long it was, it was far longer than an elevator should've taken. When 30 seconds passed, I knew something was up, but then 30 more seconds passed and I felt terror dig its claws in me. Every passing minute felt like hours. This showed me how long a minute was better than planking ever did to me, and I hated it all the way through. It felt like I was descending deep into the ocean in one of those cages sharks try to bite through.
The elevator stopped at what felt like random. I flinched as soon as the box snapped still, and all that terror grew two times worse. I heard the ding, and the doors slid open.
And I saw darkness.
I stared at the deep abyss ahead of me, petrified not dissimilar to a stone statue. I could hardly breathe through the thick air, and the smell of dust and mold was unbearable. Didn't help that I had asthma—thank God for the mask. The only light source was the elevator lights, and its hum was the only thing that made any semblance of noise in that room. What the fuck have I stumbled upon?
Whatever I expected, it wasn't complete darkness, and it sure as hell wouldn't have been something so foreboding. The room felt infinitely massive, but it felt cramped and claustrophobic all the same. I was terrified, but I wasn't able to figure out why—it must've been a mix of the unknown and the chance I would get caught by a staff member. It was enough for me to feel like I'd be dead before I saw the light of day.
I had the urge to step deeper into the basement, but my phone had already been on its last legs, and using the flashlight would probably have killed it. I didn't want to lose any contact with the outside world, so there was no way I'd take it out, even for this. Still, I wanted to investigate, just so I could relieve the worry of knowing the layout of this... place.
It's hard to call this place a basement, it felt more like catacombs that had yet to be filled with remains.
But once again, I made a stupid decision, and I stepped out of the elevator. Regretted it nearly instantly. Immediately, I felt the humid air cut through my clothes, and I began sweating far more. I thought the elevator was warm, but this was much worse. I could feel my hands shivering. Each step felt like I was stepping on landmines, the crackles of dust and the squeak of my shoes sounding like the booms. It didn't help that otherwise, it was completely silent. I could hardly breathe, and the air didn't help. It felt like I was in the vacuum of space, with complete darkness, silence, lack of oxygen, and what felt like total isolation.
Against my best wishes, I just kept walking. I'm not sure why, I just kept walking. I feared that I'd bump into something with each step I took, and yet I kept walking. The main thing that kept me from marching on to uncertain doom was an immense sense of dread... and exhaustion. I felt parched—wearing a jacket in such warm temperatures didn't do anything to help—and I had so much stuff in my bag that my shoulders began to hurt. Not even my fear nullified that. It got to a point where I stopped in my tracks, dropped my backpack on the floor, and took off my jacket. I tied it around my waist and prepared to pick my backpack up.
Then I heard sliding behind me. The elevator was about to leave.
Immediately after I heard it, I bolted towards the elevator, unable to reach for the backpack's handles in time. I would've stopped to get it, but my instincts puppeteered me back to the elevator—was there a button to call it again? How was I supposed to know? My heart began to race as I watched the light slowly get covered by the metal doors, my breath quickening. The sickly air didn't help me in any way. Each step made me feel like I'd fall every goddamn time. I saw nothing more than its lights in the distance, and it felt surreal—it almost felt like I was walking on nothing.
Just before I stepped in, I heard concrete grinding in the distance—and that only made me run quicker. I still don't know where the fuck that came from, but it kicked up my heart rate tenfold.
As soon as I got inside the elevator, I dropped to the floor, gasping up air like I had never breathed in my life. I hadn't even processed that I left my bag in there a solid 30 seconds after my fit calmed down. I couldn't even see properly, much less think. I swear I heard some kind of wail from outside the elevator, but I have no way of knowing if that actually happened for certain. After I felt I had enough air did I realize that we were moving back up. I remained seated, still sweating immensely, trying to understand... everything. Then I remembered my backpack and all that got tossed aside for now. I immediately stood up, walking toward the button panel—but when I needed it most, the basement button vanished.
My heart sank as soon as I saw its absence. Just my luck, I guess. Fortunately, though, the next day was a Friday and I didn't need to show up to school, but I was both anxious for my stuff and horrified about... all of that. Not only was my stuff in a basement that I can't find a reliable way into, but that basement also might not even exist. And I had no idea if it was safe down there. There wasn't any proof of life down there... but there wasn't proof that there wasn't, either.
On the way back home, I kept thinking about that fucking basement. Just its existence shook me to my core, and now I knew that down there was something I doubt anyone knew about, much less have been to. I don't even know if God knows what's down there. It seemed so old and abandoned like it wasn't even meant to be part of the school. It would help explain why the elevator took five minutes to get there... but then again, it's connected to the elevator. Nothing about that basement made any sense to me, and even now I can't piece together why that's even down there. Any kind of hypothetical explanation I came up with got shot down solely because the elevator shaft reached it and in five minutes.
Didn't know how to explain to my roommate how I lost my backpack. I just said I must've dropped it somewhere. He looked at me with immense disappointment. If I didn't think he was a less-than-stellar roommate, now was the time it finally struck me—damn guy couldn't help but chastise me for that. He did seem interested, but it was most likely just pity. He also told me to go back and look for it, and tell him about what happened. I'm not planning on doing that.
That night, I couldn't sleep. Wasn't the first time I stayed up so late, but at least on those days I was doing something productive. I just kept thinking about my backpack, if it was okay, and... that basement. I still knew next to nothing about it, but it stuck with me. The image of the elevator in such a vast abyss was a mental image that couldn't leave my brain. And every time that dark room entered my mind, I could feel the sweat on my skin. I kept imagining what was past the darkness, even if all that did was make me fear that place more, but I'd only be able to get this thought out if I found out myself.
Planning on going back tomorrow—or at least, before the end of the week. It's a stupid idea, I know, but I need to get my backpack back if I don't want to be dead for the rest of the school year. Even though I don't have to go, I'm still gonna. At best, I'll have to be there for only thirty seconds. At worst... I'd rather not think of that. Hopefully, I'll come back with an update. Here's hoping I don't die.
II
This one's gonna be a lot longer than the last one.
I overslept the next day—intended to wake up sometime around nine, actually woke up just before noon. Had about seven hours of sleep or something. I guess my body clock didn't want to cooperate when it was Friday. My roommate had already left at the time. Left me a note, telling me that he couldn't get a flashlight and just to use my phone flashlight. Wanted to fall back onto my mattress, and I nearly did—but as soon as my body connected with it, I remembered my backpack, and lurched back up. I was still sleepy, but I knew I had to put that aside if I wanted to get that backpack back.
God knows if it was safe down there, or if I'd be safe. The best case scenario is that it was still in the same spot, or that a staff member brought it to the lost-and-found area—but that latter one seems highly unlikely. That place seemed like it had been left to rot for as long as the school had been up (for reference, the school had been here since 1952). Plus, the way to get down there was far too convoluted and... unnatural. I knew the school had a bit of a reputation, mainly for being haunted by ghosts or whatever else, but I didn't expect the actual haunting to be so obscure.
I got off of my bed, went to take a shower—felt great, but damn was it cold—and put on my uniform. Wore my sling bag, slung on my ID, instinctively reached out for the bag I was going to school for, and went out. Left my jacket there, though. Didn't need that for where I was heading, I knew that much. My phone had gotten to about 60-ish percent overnight, which I deemed good enough for my hopefully short travel down under.
If only it were that short.
I walked to school (it wasn't too far from my dorm) and immediately regretted not bringing my jacket. The air grew colder as I walked—an omen to the rain that came eventually. I didn't even have my umbrella, it was with my backpack. Maybe that'll be another good reason to go down—so I don't have to go back to my room soaked. I just had to deal with being covered in that inclement for the next couple of minutes. I immediately picked up my pace—thankfully, it wasn't awfully far away where I was—and as soon as I got past the gate I went inside one of the buildings.
As soon as I did, I regretted not having my jacket even more, because the combination of the A/C being on for what was probably hours and the fact that I was drenched in rainwater made it freezing. I probably smelled like rainwater, and I felt moist all over. Even if I came back unscathed, I'd still need some medicine. The basement might help warm me up, but it's still the basement, so I doubt it'd be any more comforting. I decided to go back out and stay under some shade—maybe that'd help with drying me up. I had a towel, but I doubt it would've done anything.
Honestly, it was more calming than anything. Surprising, given how much rain scares the hell out of me sometimes. The rain wasn't thundering or anything, and it wasn't pitch black outside, so I guess that helped. The smell of petrichor was nice, and the lack of (audible) talking was as well. Really helped clear my mind, if only for a moment. It was a nice respite from all the garbage I've been thrown recently. Assignments and all that stuff, and of course my backpack. And then the basement rolled back into my mind, and soon enough it took over.
Even when I stood outside, staring at the rain, all I could see and think about was that damp and dingy basement. There were still so many unanswered questions, and so much of it felt too difficult to rationalize. I doubt there was a way to pass this off as intentional—it was far too different from the rest of the campus.
But if I really wanted to know more, all I could do was go back down. After all, I needed that backpack. And so, still not fully prepared, I decided to head to the elevator.
It took a while for me to find myself an empty elevator. Obviously it'd take a while—it was the middle of noon and there were still college students—but thankfully it didn't take hours like I expected the first few times I ding-dong-ditched the elevator to no avail. I must've been considered such a nuisance doing this—I'm surprised I didn't get told off at any point. I certainly felt like a nuisance, that's for sure. And it didn't feel great.
As I continued waiting, all I could wonder was if this had any point. For all I knew, the basement button wouldn't appear again, and I would've wasted my time. I still had no clue if that basement was even real—and even if it was, I had no idea if there was a consistent way to get down there. I ran with the idea that it only appears when I go down there solo, but there was easily a chance that I was just grasping at straws. I felt terribly embarrassed by the fact that I wanted to pursue this so adamantly, but again... for the backpack.
Eventually, though, while alone in the corridors, the elevator doors opened. Lo and behold, the metal box was empty. I felt satisfied, but I kept my breath hitched as I looked inside, afraid that all this waiting was for naught—but thankfully, there it was on the floor panel—the button to the basement.
I felt relieved to see it on the panel but immediately felt my heart sink as I remembered why I wanted to see it so badly. I nearly forgot that I was about to enter that place again. I didn't know what to expect—or rather, what to fear—but I just had to keep reminding myself that I was only there for my backpack. Just find the backpack, I told myself, stepping into the elevator. I closed the doors, pressed that basement floor, and sat down for the ride.
I took a photo of the basement button as I went down. I didn't have much to do during the wait—plus, it serves as proof of this experience, even if it'd make no sense to anyone outside of this school.
I listened as the noise of the crowd outside faded away as I descended, leaving me alone with the muffled whirring of the elevator and my thoughts. There wasn't much to see during the descent—the walls were as plain as the rest of the campus outside, and the light felt just dim enough for it to feel unsettling, but not dark enough for it to feel like it needed repairs. All there was to think about was my destination.
I wasn't ready to see the oppressive abyss ahead of me again. I feared that something would change when I returned. Like the basement suddenly changed its appearance, or something like that. I imagined it turning into a small room, or it being blocked off by a wall. Regardless of its appearance, I just hoped the backpack was still there—and that felt like the choice that made the most sense—but I feared that someone or something took it away.
Pondering about that concept reminded me of that suppressed wail I thought I heard during my daze yesterday. What was that? Was I imagining it, or did that actually happen? I kept asking questions, and all it did was make me fear what I'd see there. None of these thoughts gave me any comfort. It wouldn't have given anyone comfort. It made this long, long elevator ride something I'd regret being in, and I'd dread finishing.
And then the elevator stopped. I heard the ding. Then the slow, grating noise of the doors opening.
Once again, I was greeted by darkness.
I stood up, frozen still. I had already been, and I already knew that I just had to get my backpack, but it never got easier. The void I faced stared back at me, as if beckoning me to go deeper inside. I couldn't think straight—I immediately lost all sense of courage, and all just because of the darkness. I hadn't even stepped past the doors, and I already felt paralyzed. But I couldn't give up—I was already here, and I needed to get that backpack before I had to wait hours to go back down.
So I stepped out of the elevator. I heard the dust on my shoes once again, and I immediately lost sight of my entire body, as the elevator doors, like they were waiting for me, began closing. As soon as I registered that noise, I felt that same rush of adrenaline and distress as last time I was here, and immediately stepped back inside, pressing the "doors-open" button. Still don't know what to call it. The doors opened once again, and I stepped out, my breathing incredibly stilted. Just find the backpack, I told myself.
Knowing I wouldn't want to run around in the dark, I took my phone from my pocket—I noticed the lack of data down here—and, with a complete lack of what to expect—turned on the flashlight.
I was greeted with a doorway. Past that doorway was a path that stretched both directions. The walls were made of concrete, and the ceiling was much taller than I was. The floor was coated in dust. Around the room with the elevator were some shelves with nothing in them, cobwebs on some corners but no spiders, as well as the shaft—there was a button there in case someone—God knows who—needed to go back up. It was deathly silent, but I was still terrified that something could see that light. The worst part of this, however, was that the backpack was nowhere to be seen.
It wasn't where I dropped it. I knew I dropped it just ahead of me, but it was missing. That immediately made my eyes widen, and my heart stop. I really did have to go in deeper, huh? I dreaded that concept since the moment I lost that backpack, and yet here it was, a reality, and an unavoidable one at that. I couldn't ditch that backpack, I didn't want to leave so much away, but... this was the worst place I could've lost it in.
I looked at where it was for a moment before I noticed something—such a subtle difference, but one I could notice—on the floor where the backpack was supposed to be, was a trail leading somewhere. Most likely, to where my backpack went. This gave me a sense of relief for only a moment, then it was immediately taken over by horror. Pure, unadulterated horror. This meant one thing. Something dragged it away.
Once again, I instantly wanted to desert this expedition—God fucking knows this was the most unsafe thing I would've ever done—but fuck me if I wanted to explain to my parents that I lost at least a month's worth of income from some basement dweller that can't even be proven to exist. I'd rather take the risk of getting it back—am I being irrational? Fucking probably, but I don't care in all honesty. I just want to get my bag back, damnit.
So I followed the trail. It stretched down multiple winding hallways, full of shelves and crates and other junk that didn't serve me a purpose. There were many hallways—some large, some small—and some even looked like parts of the school. Some parts, though, they looked right at home in some unholy mix between brutalist factories and baroque hotel buildings. It felt like I was in the Navidson's closet, and less like I was in the basement of a school building.
This could hardly be called a basement anymore, anyway—this was just some kind of labyrinth. It was like I was a rat stuffed into a maze for some cheese, and the cheese was just my school supplies. And as a rat would probably feel in those mazes, I was always unnerved and uncomfortable—scared that at one moment something could just jump out and maul me like a hyena, or something. The trail led far away from the start, and had stretched on for miles, and all I could depend on for visibility was this flashlight that slowly drained the life out of my phone.
At some point, I heard something in the far distance. It sounded like a stone grinding against the concrete floor. I immediately flinched, turning off my flashlight and staying completely still. I don't know why I didn't just run somewhere else, but I kept myself frozen solid as I listened to the sound completely fade away. It was a miracle that the noise didn't get any louder, but it was still terrifying—especially since it was so goddamn fast.
The darkness ahead of every hallway gave my stomach a feeling I don't think I'd ever felt there before. It felt like something was twisting my intestines, and it gave me such a strong feeling of lightheadedness. I was lucky enough to have never passed out during the trek.
As I kept walking down, I noticed that everything started... changing. The halls grew less and less linear, with their layout becoming more sporadic and jagged as I progressed. The crates, shelves, furniture, and other junk had also become bashed and broken as if something had torn through these halls. I hadn't seen scratch marks, but it'd feel right at home in this desolate and—unfortunately for my ass at the time—occupied basement. Nobody had been down here before... but that didn't mean it was untouched.
Eventually, I found myself in a room. Not another hallway, like most of the other 'rooms' I'd been through—this was an actual room. It looked like an intersection—four pathways, both with their own trails. The room had also looked much more worn down than the other rooms. In the room were the typical clutter I'd mentioned earlier, as well as some other miscellaneous stuff. None of those were important, though—as finally, I found the backpack. The incredibly dust-riddled backpack. It laid atop a chair, sitting by a corner. Relieved, I took it right out of the table and began retracing my steps. Then I realized how long this would take, and how much harder it'd be with this heavy bag, and I sighed so hard I could've blown away the dust.
And so I began the long walk back. Since it was just the same shit but backward, I won't bore you with the details. I'd already given enough. I was still on edge the entire time, though—probably even more, considering now I knew that if I needed to run, this backpack would have to go again, and I did not want to drop this thing, even if it meant my life depended on it.
Walking down the hallways I'd already seen, still following the trail, I began to wonder what the deal of that room was. It had been noticeably more beat up than the rest of the rooms. Sure, there were some cracks and stuff here and there as well as some broken shelves and other debris, but they were all sporadic and spread out—plus, that room made those rooms seem spotless in comparison. Entire chunks of wall had fallen out, exposing rebar and leaving rubble on the floor. There were also trails on each pathway. Whatever's been here before, they've been there a whole lot more.
Come to think of it, the sound of the rock scraping on the ground I heard earlier came from somewhere nearby that door.
After a while of walking and sweating, the halls finally returned to normal. As normal as this place could be, at least. I forgot that this place was even meant to be a basement until I reached these halls. It was strange to find myself comforted by the sight of linear hallways and sharp corners, but here I was—free from the unpredictable nature of the cavern-like paths earlier. I still felt like something would go wrong eventually, though.
Then I heard a wail.
Immediately, I picked up the pace as I processed that sound. It was the same sound I'd heard last time I went here—it vaguely sounded like a bull, but with the same visceral pain as the unnatural sound of an Aztec death whistle. Its echo struck me to my core. My heart began to race far faster than I'd ever felt it as I just kept running, trying my best to continue following the path back as I gripped my phone even tighter than glue ever could to this thing. I must've muttered several "no, no, no"s throughout that, but I can't recall. It's a fucking miracle I didn't get lost, or that I ran out of breath.
I just kept running. I tried my best to follow the same turns as I did earlier. I heard the wail again and felt the ground shake. The dust began to move with it, and I immediately felt my nerves unfold. I feared the possibility that I'd lose track of the trail and get lost, but I just kept following my gut as I heard the same sound of rocks sliding nearby. It was growing louder this time. It was growing closer.
At some point, I nearly lost my balance and fell onto the floor. I managed to grab onto a shelf last minute, but I felt my life flash before my eyes at that moment. I would've been face-first in the dust, and that thing behind me most likely would've caught up. It was as if fate wanted me to live through this, just so I wouldn't have to find out the fate I would've faced otherwise.
Eventually, I reached the hallway leading to the elevator room. Without a second thought, I ran through the elevator doors, repeatedly pressing the close button like my life depended on it. I stared in fear as the doors slowly closed, my light still pointing at the hallway. Before they fully closed, I saw a short glimpse of what that thing was—and it had never left my mind since then. It wasn't much, but I saw more than anyone should ever see.
When the doors shut, I nearly fainted. I heard it bang on the elevator doors, its roars sending chills down my spine. It just wouldn't let up. Even when I got high enough to pass over the ceiling, I kept hearing it try to break through. I was paralyzed from the waist down, backing away as far as I could from the banging. I felt relief wash over me as it completely faded, but my heart beat at 200 beats per minute. I'm unfit, so having a fast heartbeat isn't anything new, unfortunately, but this was different. It felt like my heart was banging on my chest as hard as that... thing was earlier.
Throughout the five-minute ride back up, I felt my heart thump in my chest—constantly bashing on my ribs and the skin on my chest, as if it were trying to escape. I couldn't stand up throughout half of it. My backpack had been left on the floor, tossed aside as soon as I stepped inside. I was drenched with sweat—I didn't want to deal with this shit because of how it felt when it dried, but it felt like it was worse than yesterday. My hands were shaking, my eyes felt glued open like I was the guy from A Clockwork Orange, and I could barely breathe consistently—I couldn't even keep a breath for longer than a second.
Eventually, I reached the first floor, and lo and behold a group of people happened to have seen me panicking inside. I would've felt embarrassed if I wasn't still in distress over that whole ordeal. A good samaritan among the group brought me to the school wellness center where I took a breather—it took me about ten minutes to fully calm down. I couldn't explain to them what happened—I doubt they would've bought what I was rambling about—so I just ran with the idea that I had a panic attack. I mean, it wasn't a lie.
During that walk, I noticed how much darker the sky had gotten and realized that I must've been there for like, five hours or something. I asked the guy I was with what time it was, and he said it was 4:23 pm. My jaw went slack as he said that—I knew for certain that I didn't stay down there for so long. Sure, it took a while for me to find the backpack and go back, but I knew it didn't take me more than an hour. I didn't make a fuss about it—I've already made a scene earlier—but throughout that time I felt severely out of the loop.
I must've looked like a mess after all of that, because when I came back to my dorm my roommate stared at me with narrowed eyes, like I'd done something wrong. I asked what was up while putting my stuff away, and he said "What do you mean 'what's up?' You look like you came out of a hurricane, dude."
"Sure I was, today was a nightmare."
"Yeah? No shit, Sherlock—now what the hell happened? You took way longer than I expected, dawg."
I paused. "It's hard to explain."
His eyes got narrower. "I'd like a bit of an elaboration."
"If I told you, you'd think I was crazy."
"I already think that about you, dude, just spill the beans."
"No no, this'll just make it worse."
He scoffed. "Oh, really now? You're just intriguing me more." He turned his chair to face me better, leaning on it with a leg on his thigh. "I promise I won't make fun of you."
I debated telling him for a moment. My eyes wandered as I thought—on one hand, he was the only other person I can talk to about this (outside of you NoSleep fellas, but I don't know any of you personally) and I really do need to get this out of my system, plus he wouldn't stop pestering me about this bullshit 'till I did, but on the other hand, he'd absolutely not let me live this down if I told him. I had the photo, sure, but that didn't explain everything else I saw. So I decided to tell him "Not now."
He looked at me, disappointed. "Come on, Kam, things were just getting interesting!" I didn't reply, just sighed as I took some clothes from the closet and went to take a shower.
It's once again the middle of the night as I write this. Everything that had just happened today, even though I barely showed it to the roommate, really took a toll on me. I can't sleep without thinking of that fucking goat-bull-man-thing in there, and just the basement in general. I still had next to no clue what the fuck that thing was doing down there, or why that entire place was down there at all, but finding out is something I do not want to do. I probably won't be able to go back to school without thinking that, somewhere deep below the floors I stood on, were things that, no matter how hard you tried, couldn't be rationalized. It was fascinating, but it was horrifying to think about. What if it got out?
I need to get to bed soon. It's late. It'll take a while since I'm 100% sure I'll just see that thing again—whether in my dreams or somewhere else—but I'm sure I'll be fine. Stuff like this goes away eventually, I know that much.
Here's hoping I get to sleep tonight.
III
And I thought it couldn't get any worse.
It started with me not getting everything I saw down there out of my head. I couldn't stop thinking about that basement, or that thing down there, or the fact that all of it was under my goddamn school. Even when I was supposed to listen to the lectures our teachers were spewing, I couldn't get my head out of that labyrinthian nightmare. I couldn't even stand near an elevator without clamming up. It was pitiful. I'm 100% sure people stared at me during all of that.
Even seeing something that merely resembled that thing set me off. During our theology class, our teacher discussed Greek mythos and I nearly had a panic attack when she showed a photo of a satyr on the projector. I tried my hardest to keep my composure, but I'm sure the fact that I was scared shitless leaked through somehow. I just knew someone looked at me funny when that happened. Thankfully, she never showed that slide again.
Then my roommate found out about it.
After a while of me coming back to the dorm looking like an asylum patient, he obviously got concerned. Normally that guy was a goof but this whole ordeal showed me a side of him that—honestly, looking back, was completely reasonable for him to have—but still, a side that I didn't expect to see from him. I came back to my dorm after a really bad day. Imagine everything I previously mentioned but multiply it by ten. I immediately flopped onto my bed as soon as I tossed my backpack aside. Didn't even change or anything. It was silent for a solid five minutes or something before he broke the silence.
"Okay, dude, what the hell is going on with you recently?" He turned to face me, eyes narrowed. "You've been freaking out about god-knows-what since you got your backpack back. Genuinely, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?"
I rolled over, exposing my face to the air. I barely kept my eyes open. "It's complicated."
"I know it's complicated, Kam, but just say what's happening with you." This was when he began to soften up to me. His sincerity still puts me off until now. "I'll get off your ass as soon as you tell me, alright? Cross my heart and hope to die."
His genuineness made me consider telling him, but I still didn't know if I wanted to dump everything I saw. After all, nobody would've believed it, much less him. I just stared for a moment, trying to visualize what'd happen if I did one or the other. All the while, the roommate stared at me, impatiently waiting for me to answer.
"Are you sure you want to know?"
"I've asked you this, what, every day since you got the backpack, dude. Yeah, I wanna know."
I hesitated for a moment, but eventually, I just spilled it all out. About the basement, the five-minute ride, the seemingly endless layout, and that... that thing. Letting all of this run out my mouth gave me such a strange, mixed feeling. It felt so gratifying, but horrible all the same. And by the end of it, we were silent for way longer than needed. He stared at me—but he didn't look at me like I was crazy. He looked like he'd just witnessed Pandora's box opening. After a while, he said to me:
"You're joking."
"I—I told you it would sound crazy, Jonah—"
"No, no, it absolutely does," he said. "...but this is so intriguing to me."
Immediately, the weight over my chest eased. I feared that he'd just laugh it off, passing it off as a joke—which, in fairness, it does sound like one—but I didn't know what I would've expected otherwise. Whatever it was, I didn't think it'd be him being interested. "You... believe me?"
"Oh, how could I not? This is too batshit crazy for it to just be your fucked up brain," he said, leaning on his chair. "Plus, I doubt you could've just pretended you were losing it for, what, a week now? There's no way this is an elaborate prank!" He raised an eyebrow. "You aren't pranking me, are you?"
"Wh—of course not! Are you crazy?!"
"I dunno, you seem to know what 'crazy' is like!"
I couldn't respond to that.
He probably spent an hour constantly asking questions. About the basement, and what it was like, and that thing down there (when I described it, I could tell he didn't believe me), and all that stuff. It started innocently enough, with him concerned about me and what I had went through, but as it continued I felt this sinking feeling in my stomach. Like something bad would happen if I kept talking. I wasn't completely sure why I thought it at the time, but now it seems clear to me.
And looking back, I shouldn't have told him so much. Even If I mentioned or elaborated on one less thing, things most likely would've gone differently. It's too late for that now, though.
My suspicion was all but confirmed when he asked me how I got there. As soon as he asked that, I dropped the subject and immediately told him to stop. Even if I wanted to not feel crazy, I did not want anyone else to go down there—especially now that I know what's down there. Even if he just wanted to figure out the cause, I did not want to risk him going down. Going down, now that that thing knows where I came from, is a death sentence.
I barely slept a wink that night. I had at most 2 hours of sleep. At least I didn't have to go to school tomorrow. I thought dumping all of that shit would've eased up on my insomnia, but now I was worried that my roommate would go down, and it just made it fester. I think I had a dream about that during the night, but dreams are dreams and I can barely remember it anymore. That entire night, though, I was worried. I had never cared for his safety this much until this moment.
The next morning, I woke up and he was gone. It's not unusual for him to be gone when I woke up, but we weren't meant to go today. He was just gone. I was confused at first—I had just woken up, after all, my brain wasn't exactly the best at reasoning at that time—but when I pieced it together, I felt horror surge through my body.
Oh, God.
I wish I could say I immediately knew what to do, but it took me way too long to figure out my plan. I just sat there, like a sitting duck, with fear flowing through my veins. Why I didn't think of messaging him, I'm not sure, but the sleep deprivation and impending doom probably took my mind off it. After what felt like ages, I finally got out of bed and prepared for what could've fully been my last day.
It went against all of my prior judgment. I refused to go back there after what happened—I don't know anyone who would—but this... this wasn't something I wanted to happen. Even if I wasn't entirely close to him, I didn't want him to die—not down there, and especially not to that thing. Even thinking about it now forms a pit in my stomach.
I rushed through everything. Barely dried my hair after taking a shower. Slapped on some random outfit as an afterthought. The only things I thought of were wearing my ID and bringing a flashlight—why I didn't bring a weapon, I'm not sure. I probably saw no point.
Before I left, I saw a note on his table that I presumed he left there—but I was too stressed and distracted to pay it any mind. I flew out the door and left the dormitory—I was in such a rush, I don't even think I locked the door. Everything in between leaving the dorm and reaching the elevator was a blur.
My head was spinning, only kept in place by my goal to get my roommate out of the basement. The highway and the buildings on the way were streaks in my eyes. The school buildings were fuzzy blocks of white, and the students had become nothing more than incomprehensible noise in the background. The sun's heat and the air conditioner's chill never hit my body. It was just the goal, and nothing else.
At some point, I bumped into someone. The person happened to be someone my roommate knew—I believe from a filmmaking club—and someone that he'd usually be around, or at least when I saw him. And he was not with them.
"Oh, hey," they said, backing up after we collided shoulders. "Aren't you Jonah's roommate?"
"Uh, yeah," I replied, attempting to regain composure. Sure, I probably looked pale and sounded like a zombie, but most students did. I stumbled on my words when I talked, even though all I said were simple sentences. I just needed to get what I needed to know out of this person. "That's me. Why, what's up?"
They looked around, avoiding eye contact just as much as I did. "I was just wondering where he is."
I immediately felt my heart drop. I was right. I had to leave as soon as possible, but if I ran immediately after I found that out, I'd just leave them confused. Nobody else needed to know about that, so I tried to keep it together. I saw how they were looking at me, though—and I knew I didn't do well enough. "What's up? Are you looking for him too?"
"Yeah."
"Do you need help with that?"
"Oh, no no, I'll be fine on my own." I wasn't, but I doubt I could go down there with them. Nobody else needed to die down there.
"Well, if you say so. Good luck."
I chuckled, trying to mask my impatience. "You too, I guess."
And we parted ways. I kept sprinting as soon as it felt right. I hadn't seen them since, but I hope they're okay.
I eventually reached the elevator. Stepping towards the doors, my movement halted. I was afraid. Even with my mind being covered in fog, I still knew that going back down there would be like walking into a bear trap you'd already lost a leg to. I knew what lie below the tiles, and I knew that it could've ripped me apart if it tried. I knew that if I went down, I would've been subjected to a fate worse than death, and then some.
I knew, though, that Jonah would experience that too if I didn't go down.
So I called the elevator.
It didn't take very long before the elevator arrived. When the doors opened, I was greeted with an empty room. I immediately stepped inside, shutting the doors. I'm not sure if it was just my barely-functioning brain fucking with me, but the room looked much darker than usual—like the lights broke or lost power. I stared at the basement button and pressed it. The elevator began going down, and I braced myself for the long wait.
The slow descent was never comforting, but it felt much more distressing now that I had a time limit. Every second in that box felt ten times longer, and the dim lights didn't help. My hands were shivering. Knees were weak. Eyes were darting from one corner to the other. The feeling of anxiety and unrest was unending. The lack of stimulants didn't help. I was stuck alone in this metal prison with my thoughts, and they were all about what could've been my tomb. Five minutes was more than enough.
Eventually, the elevator finally stopped. Even though I braced for impact, I still froze at the sight of the Hadean darkness ahead of me. I knew what was to come, and I knew why I was here, but I couldn't escape that fear of the darkness that kept me rooted to the ground like a tree to the soil. I must've gone pale seeing it again—I'm not sure—but I felt the blood in my body turn to ice.
I had to snap out of it, though. I was a sitting duck in the domain of an impossibility. Prey in the den of a predator. I didn't want to die—not until I got Jonah out of there, anyway—and standing still would've marked me for death.
So, after turning on the flash on my phone, I ran. I ran as fast as I could, barely paying attention to the halls I was roaming, looking for Jonah. I called out to him. Yelled at the top of my lungs, calling his name, searching for a response. I didn't get any. Every time my screaming came without anything back, I felt my heart tighten a little more.
There was no sign of him.
Where was he?
I kept roaming the halls, absentmindedly if it weren't for the goal in mind. I wish I could say it blurred in my mind like the highway and the school, but no—it was all there, in clear view. I couldn't escape the visual of the desolate, brutal concrete walls, the trashed shelves and crates, the cracks in the walls and the rebar that stuck out of them, and the feeling that I would be stuck here. The feeling of despair was heart-wrenchingly strong, and I could only barely focus on my goal. If I escaped alive, my sanity wouldn't.
It would be a lie if I said I never wanted to abandon this mission. I wasn't close with Jonah—not enough to risk my life for him, anyway—and I already hated this place more than anywhere I'd ever been to. The first time it was unnerving, harrowing the second time. The third time, I was fearing for my life, and if that thing didn't kill me it would've been cardiac arrest. Despite all of this, though, I had to get him out, because I knew I wouldn't be able to live with that guilt. So I kept going.
My yells fell on deaf ears. My screams echoed in the empty halls, and I never knew if my calls had reached a receiver. I just kept doing it. Kept yelling for a person who might've not been here, or who might not have heard. Was it instinct? Desperation? I'm unsure, even now. My emotions were strong enough to drown out any other thought. Fear and anxiety puppeteered me towards my goal, and everything I did was a byproduct of it.
And then my calls were answered. Something else received it.
My life flashed before my eyes as I heard its wail in the distance. I turned back immediately after as if all that bullshit about Jonah disappeared into a puff of smoke. I didn't know where I was going, I was fully ready to depend my entire life on luck—as effective as hanging over a ravine with a string for a rope. And I was going to run aimlessly—that was until I heard something else immediately after.
Jonah screamed bloody murder.
I stopped in my tracks. I snapped to face the direction where that scream came from. It was dark, but I felt like I could see everything. Hearing Jonah so horrified—down here, no less—shook me to my core in a way I'd never felt before or since. And that scream, until now, cannot escape my head. But there was no time to introspect—I had to get him out of here. He fell into a rabbit hole that he shouldn't have, and I needed to keep him out of this.
So, once again, I ran. I felt like a car speeding through a dirt path in the middle of the woods. I yelled for Jonah once again, not even looking for a response—I just needed to get shit out of my system, and that was the best way I could do it. I didn't even care that it brought attention to me—I needed to yell, or I wasn't making progress.
The aura of consternation around me made me dizzy. There was barely any noise, but it felt like a cacophony of incomprehensible screams enveloped me. I could barely breathe—the mix of the thin air, my poor health, and the fear that raced through me made for a horrible combination that made everything going on oh so much worse.
After trudging through the dilapidated passages, the roars and screeches echoing from a distance, I reached the intersection where my backpack was. Everything looked so much worse than when I last saw it—being just a few days ago. The walls and ceiling were falling apart, the shelves and crates were completely torn to shreds, every single surface had some form of scratch mark left on it, and the worst—a streak of blood was on the floor. The sight of blood nearly made me faint.
I immediately feared the worst, but I still heard Jonah in the distance—as if to keep me from leaving. I saw it as there still being hope to save Jonah—but now, I realize it was a sign for me to turn back immediately. In my hysteria, I ignored the signs and I chased after his voice, following the trail of blood that I knew couldn't have been anyone's but his own.
The halls grew more and more twisted. Less like a ruined building and more like a cavern. Everything vaguely resembled the first few sets of corridors, but it was irregular. Misshapen. Like it had no solid foundation. Less and less did it feel like a basement, and more like a labyrinth. An endless, boundless maze where I'd be lost until the end of time. And I was following a trail of blood—so of course, it didn't help in the slightest.
Eventually, I saw light coming from one of the passageways. The trail of blood led in that direction. The noises came from this direction, I was sure. And I had no idea if I wanted to look. Why that was even a decision I had to make is lost on me. I should've just booked it as soon as I saw the trail of blood. But I decided I wanted to get closer...
...and immediately regretted it.
It roared so loudly, it would've deafened me if I were any closer. I began running back faster than ever. Jonah was dead, I was sure of it. I didn't care that I didn't see what happened, or that I heard him scream just seconds before, he was dead. And that thing killed him. I just kept running. I kept running. Nothing else mattered, I had to leave or I would be next. I kept running. Running down the passages, barely keeping my phone gripped in my hands, and with something right on my tail. I was going to be dead if I stopped for even a second.
The halls turned into a blur once again. The chase in its entirety was a blur. I feared every second, and I can still feel the sheer horror I felt and the adrenaline that rushed through me in that moment, but I can't remember what happened during it. It's probably for the best.
I can only remember what happened after I reached the elevator. I thought I had reached my worst the last time I went—but when I fell into the elevator, shutting the doors as fast as I could, staring at that thing dead in its bloodied eyes before being covered by the doors—I fainted. My heart rate sped up to the point where it would've shot through my ribs. Vision went dark, and I went limp.
I had no idea. I didn't even realize I fainted until I heard the ding of the elevator, and I was sprawled on the floor like a corpse. I shot back up, sweating bullets, my heart rate remaining as fast. I didn't know what had happened until around five seconds after I stepped out of the elevator. I felt a pit in my stomach the rest of the day, and then the rest of the week. Even after sleeping, I felt disgusting. Nothing would help me at this rate.
I neglected to read Jonah's note when I came back—I was too tired, too scared, too overwhelmed. I wanted to sleep, and I did. For three hours or something. I couldn't get a single hour of sleep without seeing the light of his flashlight, and the trail of blood turning the corner. I couldn't get an hour of sleep without seeing that thing covered in blood.
The next few days have gone by and I haven't gotten any better. I kept forcing myself to go to school, even though I probably should've just checked into wellness and called off going to school for a week. People obviously took notice of my state—I looked like hell, after all—but I couldn't elaborate further than "I barely got sleep" or "I had a bad day."
Eventually, people noticed that Jonah was gone. Someone I knew asked about it, and I (very poorly) tried to convince them I had no clue. They bought it, but it was clear that suspicion arose around me. Police investigations happened. I got interrogated a lot, but I genuinely couldn't say anything—if I did, I would probably have been shoved in a psych ward or solitary confinement. Nothing arose. Not even the CCTV footage helped—Jonah entered the elevator, and that was the last they saw of him.
They never knew of the basement. That, or they deliberately avoided it. I'm not sure anymore. It didn't matter to me, though. Jonah was missing. I saw his face plastered on every wall. "MISSING — JONAH PARANTAR. CONTACT ... IF YOU HAVE INFORMATION" and shit like that.
I was alone in my dorm one day when I remembered that I hadn't read the note. It had been on his desk, collecting dust for at least a week now. I finally read it that day, even though I felt hesitant to. I didn't want to rip a scab open and let blood seep through, but I had too much in my hands already.
So I read it.
"Hey Kamryn.
I know you told me not to go. I understand why you didn't want me to. But I had to. This has nothing to do with me not believing you—in fact, I probably believe more than you do.
Something important's down there. An answer to a larger question, a bigger conspiracy, that probably goes further than just that basement. I knew as soon as you said that there was a basement that didn't exist that this would get me closer to knowing more. I needed to find something down there, and from what you've said, I'll get it there.
You have no idea what kinda shit goes on in this part of the country. You've probably heard stories around a campfire, but myths are always built off of something, yeah? Valderrama ain't the only one, dude. Kriste Sanctor has some weird shit too. Not to mention that abandoned town nearby (the one with all the cemeteries, I think you know what I'm talking about). Insidious shit's going on down here, and this is just a part of the puzzle.
Sometimes, myths are kinder than the truth. You just have to believe.
- J.P."
