THE THING IN THE BASEMENT

Tommy always knew there was something wrong with the basement.

It wasn't just the cold design that joked up the stairs at night. It wasn't the way the door rattles at that frame, as if something was being pushed from the other side. It smelled - thick and lazy, like meat spoiled in the sun.

His parents told him they were only old hists. "Don't be stupid," his father said. "Keller is always creepy."

But Tommy knew well.

1. The first night

Tommy hated the basement.

It was not just darkness. It wasn't just the damp, moldy smell that clung to the stairs. It was noise - wet noise that did not belong to an empty room.

His parents told him that the only place he had settled down was home. "The old house squeals," his father said. But Tommy knew well. Don't whisper the house.

He was in bed when he first heard it. Quiet Sitch Krich Krich behind the wall. The length of the nail pulls on the wood.

Then -

Thump.

Something that hits the basement door.

Tommy sat down and smacked his heart. The door at the bottom of the stairs was always closed. His father said it was to protect the cold. But now... there was something against it.

Thump. Blow. but.

The

Door trembled at the frame.

Then -System.

Tommy didn't sleep that night.

2. Second Night

Scratch is back.

It's big this time. I'm even more desperate.

Scitch. Sitting. scratch.

Tommy pressed his ears against the wall.

replied to his voice.

"let ... out..."

It didn't sound human. The words were wet, as if someone had spoken to a bloody mouth.

Tommy cried.

His parents quickly turned the light upside down.

"A bad dream?" asked his mother, stroked his hair.

Tommy nods, too scared to tell the truth.

When they left, the voices returned - this time under his bed.

"I...see...you...

3. Third night

Tommy couldn’t take it anymore

He needed evidence.

He waited for his parents to sleep before reaching for his flashlight. The wooden stairs moaned under his feet as he fell.

The basement door was slightly open.

That was impossible. It was always closed.

The rotten smell has oozed out - thick and sweet as rotten meat. Tommy Gagute. His hands shook as he pushed the door wider.

Flashlight beams turn off the darkness.

Empty shelf. A dusty box. Broken chair.

Then-fulfilled.

It's twitching at the

corner.

Tommy's breath.

Things have risen.

It was too big. His arms are too long. The skin was black and peeled off like burning paper. There are no eyes. Just a mouth - a huge mouth that stretches from ear to ear, filled with jagged yellow teeth.

Dry blood crust lips.

"You're here..." "It was pounding.

Tommy tried to run.

Door hit it.

4.Feed

The problem was wrong. His bones stumbled forward in an impossible way, breaking when he bent his limbs.

"Hungry...", hissing.

Tommy retreated to the shelf. The glass glasses were rattling. The thing smiled wider, her lips split into corners.

Then - it fell.

Tommy cried, wrapping his ankles as icy fingers. The grip of the thing was like iron. Cracked-

Crack.

Tommy's head hit the concrete. Warm blood ran down his face.

What protrudes above him and drips from his teeth.

"Mine..."

His pine.

Tommy stepped in and got a hit, but it was too strong.

The teeth of the

sunk into his shoulder.

Pain.

White hot, burning pain.

Tommy cried as he tore the flesh from his bones. Blood was sprayed on the wall. He bites things loudly and laughs.

"more..."

It was bitten again -

Tommy's scream turned to Gurgel as his teeth were torn to his neck.

5. The next morning

Tommy's parents discovered that the cellar door was wide open.

The

bed was covered with child-like sticky red footprints.

But Tommy is gone.

The only sound was wet chomming from the darkest corners.

Then -

Scratch. scratch. scratch.

This was still hungry.