Adam and The Serpent

His son Adam was quite a curious child. Now I know what you are thinking. What boy isn't curious? But Adam was more so then most. So much so, that it passed the point of annoying and just became purely fascinating to those in his life. While most eight year olds tend to ask one million questions everyday, Adam asked two million. His brown eyes were constantly drifting, his feet always attempting to follow them. His father never worrying, for he believed Adam was smart enough to take care of himself. So when the small family of two moved into an old home in the small town of Eden, New York of course it was to be anticipated that Adam would be overwhelmed with uncontrollable curiosity.

The house his father bought was an antique. Just like all the other houses in the forgotten farming community. But it was all that they could afford. Their house, number 59, had pale blue siding that gave the odd feeling of a retirement home and the back porch looked as if it would most definitely fall off if too much weight challenged it. The living room was actually carpeted -though it was gaudy and blue- and the walls were lined with grated heaters.

Now all children have a tendency to want to go where they never should. Whether this is an act of early defiance or simply ignorant curiosity, I'm not really sure. But I do know it's true. So when the child saw the wide open staircase leading down to the seemingly yet to be explored basement, the urge to go down there was completely overpowering to his senses making him unable to see anything else. In the back of his mind he could remember his father telling him "Do not go in the basement and be good." but he didn't listen. What could happen? So the first chance he got -which was while his father directed the movers into placing the chesterfield in the perfect place to coordinate with the other still inexistent furniture and wasn't paying attention to him- Adam slipped away unnoticed and took those first tentative, yet confident, steps down to the buried floor.
The steps creaked barbarically, which made each stride he took last longer then it could have taken him to have run down the entire case. So when Adam's feet finally hit the expectedly cold floor he let the ghost of a devious grin spread across the face most commonly dedicated to fake, naïve innocence.

He swiveled his head around and waited while his eyes slowly adjusted to the light. The hallway crawled forward to reveal a corridor to abandoned rooms. An old wood stove was blocking his path to what he assumed was the cold room from what he had heard his father saying. He was not quite sure of the purpose so he avoided the room. It didn't sound all that interesting in his opinion anyway.

Adam almost did a complete one-eighty turn, ready to take his now crest-fallen expression up to his father and demand he show him something worth his prior excitement. But as his legs twisted underneath him, his eyes came to rest upon an open area and soon the still maturing connections in his immature brain made the conclusion that this passage must lead to under the basement stairs. So he went to go take a look.

As Adam investigated it was quickly looking more and more like a storage area which extended to under the stairs, Adam almost dismissed the new discovery. There were boxes that he recognized from the old house. Labeled "Christmas decorations", "Books", "Adam's baby things" and many other various (and un-appealing) titles that made this seem even more like a reason to go back. That was until he saw the door leading to under the stairs.

Evicted to the dark by a slanted roof caused by the staircase and the small window covered in privacy film the door could go and did go easily overlooked. Adam walked up to it with quickening urgency and found that the door was shorter then himself. Now that doesn't happen very often. At four feet tall it was quite an accomplishment to be taller then anything at all. It was very uplifting.

His small hands timidly grabbed hold of the grey-haired door knob but he dare not turn it. Instead he remained very rigid and mute. His ears stretched out, listening for the distant familiar sounds of his father who was still placing the chesterfield in the "perfect" place. By barking orders at the workers. If he stretched out even further he could hear the sounds of the movers unloading boxes of what was probably his stuff. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped that they were taking special care of his stuff. He liked his stuff.

Once it seemed that this jeopardy would remain classified he flipped the attention switch. His left hand was placed firmly on the door knob. He told his hand to move and it did not. Truth be told, he told it to move then silently prayed he wouldn't. Then, when he finally became bold and twitched his hand muscles a loud bang from upstairs caused him to release the handle completely. He froze and faintly, but distinctly, heard his father curse loudly. It was a word he hadn't heard before (and his Dad swore a lot) but somehow he knew it was bad. After what seemed like an eternity of silence he placed a hand back on the door knob and turned it gently. Not wanting to go through the motions of a coward all over again. Fearing he would talk himself out of it.

When the wooden plank so laughably called a door swung open, the rasp was deafening but went unworried about and pushed back to the part of his brain where he stored unimportant crap. If the creak of the stairs went unheard (or at least uncared about) then no sound he made could possibly get him caught. He was pretty sure.
What first greeted his eyes was an abyss of black then as the sun shone through the film on the window and explored in wonder it reflected off rusted metal and it alerted David's attention. When his eyes shot down he saw what looked to be a railing.

He reflexively looked over his shoulder for a light switch and scowled to find no such thing. His brain scanned the wall then finally hit a string hanging above his head. He reached and pulled it with a good amount of force and scared himself with the blinding light. The clear light bulb giving off a flickering light, threatening to switch off once he descended down the stairs and leave him in the dark. But he figured he'd just be a minute. Maybe two at most.

Peering down, Adam could see the stairs extend a good ways. Adam figured there was at least fifty. Realistically there was about twenty. His hand touched the cold metal and he stepped down till his foot met with a step, then another, then another, and another, and another, and another. There was just no end.

SLAM!

The light was suddenly cut in half and Adam whirled around with enough fright and enough force that he had to catch himself with the railing. The door had slammed shut and had blocked the view to what seemed like modern society. Because as Adam looked back towards the bottom of the stairs all he could see was the dirt of the earth that made up the floor. But he continued downwards. The light bulb provided enough light to keep the curiosity alive.

His worn sneakers made a light thud when he finally left the stairs with an anxious hop to meet the retired soil. His hand moved from the railing to lightly touch the wall but it made him jump. The stone wall was wet with mould. He rubbed his hand against his jeans hastily with his face twisted in disgust and looked at an archway made of stone matching the wall.

He stepped through and looked back and forth and did a retake. A hallway greeted him. Adam blinked a few times. There's no way this is so big -no. There's no way something so impossible could be under our house. It was hard to see but for some reason this place just had a feeling which allowed one to know that this stretch was huge. The only light actually allowing him to see what looked like rock was what little light was being emitted from the bulb up the stairs. But after his eyes became comfortable, other archways also came forth to welcome him as well. Many number of archways, exactly identical to the one where he stood in awe. All lined with grey, patterned stone. The floor, the walls, the ceiling. All of it a magnificent tunnel of pure stone. Adam stepped out and looked down to the far left. The never ending tunnel stretched further then he could ever hope to see in the artificial night. He turned around and saw that beside his doorway was a carving in the stone. It was old and hard to make out. He stepped a little closer and could barely make out the numbers, what looked like a 59. He turned back to the archway directly across from him, about 10 paces away, and read the number 60 scratched into the side panel. The numbers of the houses… His head whipped to the right as his peripheral vision began working again and what he saw startled -and fascinated- him more then anything he had seen yet.

Adam started examining the archways as he started unconsciously walking down the hallway. They all seemed to be the same exactly except for the different numbers. All had a set of stairs, all had a door. Some of them also had a light shining under the door. Not all of them though. When he reached the previously sought out light he peered up the stairs to the source. The light bulb -which was also exactly the same as his own- was turned on with a confident light. He could see the door. There seemed to be more stairs then what he went down. And the door seemed older then his own. It looked to him like it could even be almost cracked.

What he didn't know was that what he was actually seeing were fingernail scratches. The screams of there maker still echoing on the stone from years before.

When in complete silence one is always listening, waiting for a sound, Any sound. So Adam easily heard the movement of rocks, of dirt. Of weight? Maybe it was that young defiance again, but most likely that ignorant curiosity, but whatever it was he started walking towards the sound. He walked and watched the numbers slowly get lower and lower and lower. He had just turned to look at number 27 when a hoarse voice broke the bitter air that had happened when he became immune the crunch of his footsteps.

"Who are you?" The, until now, unknown neighbor growled.

Adam turned and looked back at door number 25. Beside it sat a person who had been ignored because of the ever growing darkness. Adam walked backwards until he could peer down at the interesting man. He sat with his legs crossed, his arms twisted in unnatural ways. The man picked at his ripped ear with a hand that looked plastered to his head and could not be moved because the elbow was bent the complete wrong way. At first Adam thought the man was black but quickly dismissed the idea and found that instead he was just very, very dirty. His hair was rock hard, an entire black coal atop his head. His skin so wrinkly, as if he was two hundred years old. But his eyes shone with a youth that would never fade until the child dies. Amongst all the dirt the blue of his eyes popped out and it was if Adam had never truly seen color before. He was old but Adam figured it'd be rude to ask just how old. The old man was also was naked. David figured that that was just too absurd to not question that.

"…Where are your clothes?" .

"I don't have any."

"Why not?"

"Can't."

"But why not?"

"We don't care."

"We?"

"Yes. We."

Adam looked back down the dark underground street. "There's no one else here."

"That you can see."

"I don't get it."

"You will. Someday. Maybe today."

Adam dropped the subject, He wasn't sure why. But he did all the same.

"I'm Adam." He said instead. The man just stared at him. As if convincing himself what was he was seeing was what was really there.

"What's your name?" Adam pressed. The man continued to stare.

"Where do you live?" He tried again. The man looked him in the eye, startled.

"I live here."

"Here?" Adam asked, confused. How could someone possibly live here?

"Yes."

"Don't you have a home at the top of your stairs?"

"I live here."

"What do you eat?"

"Rats."

"Rats?"

"Yes."

Adam just nodded thoughtfully before asking "Who else is down here?"

"There is one other that I know of. A girl."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her since she left."

"Where'd she come from?"

"Same place you did. Except she couldn't get back, the door was locked. And ever since then she's been wandering I guess. Looking for a way out. That was so long ago… I don't know where she'd be by now. Or if she's even still alive."

"When did you get down here?" Adam asked nervously.

The man stayed quiet. He stayed quiet for a very long time. So long that Adam was about to open his mouth to speak again when so abruptly it made Adam jump, the old man turned as if he had heard something that the boy did not, or maybe could not. His eyes grew wide, till the point where more white was visible then blue and he looked as if he were about to get up, shifting his weight under his hands. Contemplating. Instead he looked back over at the boy.

"He's nearly here." The old man chocked, trying to hold back an abrupt, awful laughter. His voice was a mask. He stared into Adam and looked as though he saw nothing at all.

Adam took an unsure step back. This didn't feel right.

"Looks like your time is just about up." The old man began to chuckle, his chest bobbing up and down spastically as a smile of pure beastly amusement reached his ears. It very quickly evolved into his frail head being thrown backward in overdue, maniac laughter. It was now that Adam became afraid as he simply watched the man transform in front of him and become alive before his eyes.

Fangs sprouted from the mans toothless gums, tearing through the roof of the mouth slowly and stopping before ripping the flesh apart entirely. While the rest stayed pierced against the tips of the fangs. Dripping with blood and flopping with dying nerves. They grew past the length that of a cat's fangs and became what looked like would belong to a snake. His tongue shot out and twisted and for a moment Adam believed what he was seeing was two tongues but really it was just split. Spilt half way down. Hissing and spitting and avoiding being bitten as the mouth roared.
Adam started clumsily walking backwards again and looking back between the dark and… What ever the hell the old man was.

"AHA! THERE'S NO HOPE FOR YOU NOW BOY!"

At last Adam's feet reacted and ran. He ran and ran, whipping his head back and forth looking for that familiar number 59 or anything relatively normal at all. Adam's feet were no longer attached to him. All he wanted was to go home. But he ran so fast that the numbers became faint blurs, he sprinted until he looked over his shoulder and spotted the now terrifying number 63.

Adam turned on his heel and doubled back with slowed speed as the adrenaline failed him miserably. And when finally 59 came back he could already hear the lunatic laugh of the old man echoing through from down the hallway. Bouncing back and forth across the stone. He threw himself up the wooden, termite ridden stairs, incredibly faster then before. So much so that one of the boards nearly snapped under his foot.

He found everything the same. The light, the short door. But as he cranked the doorknob he could have sworn that this was all a terrible nightmare and he would wake up in the backseat of his father's car.

The door was locked.

Sealed shut and showing no signs of opening as if someone had padlocked it from the other side. He screamed and cried and made harmony with the now dying laugh from down the hall as he pounded on the door. He was done with this house. He wanted to go home now. Home. Not here. Here was not his home. Not at all.
When the screams from down the hall cut off his did as well. Adam did not want to be noisy. No, his father always hated it when he was noisy. He slid down in exhaustion and defeat to sit on the first step and traced his shaking finger on the light shimmering from under the door. The light was pretty and humble. The bulb above him flickered and as he looked up he silently prayed for the light to stop tricking him and fade into nothing. Maybe that way whatever was out there that wanted him wouldn't see him. Because suddenly he remembered the girl, and the old man saying how he wasn't sure if she was still alive. Adam didn't think she was still alive... He just wished the light would go away and leave him alone. Maybe that way he could find a way out of here and help his father with the chesterfield. He had an idea as to where it would look perfect.

Down the underground tunnel the click-clack from a pair of hooves could be heard echoing in against the stone (the sound reminded Adam of the horses walking down Main Street during the parade after the police cars and before the four year old baton twirlers), except there were only two hooves walking instead of four. David craned his neck towards the archway, where the hall he wished wasn't real could no longer be seen. Just black. I should have hid there. Unless he can see into the darkness. Only bad people who are what is scary in the dark could possibly want to see what else is there.

The click-clacks got closer and more distinct. Adam cringed against the stone, cursing at the light. Hoping to curl into a ball and go unseen from everything.

A dark silhouette passed by and Adam swallowed a gut-wrenching sob.

The figure came into view and what Adam finally saw was everything he could ever have wished not to see. A man with the legs and broken horns of a goat. His face torn, the remnants hanging with his decomposing flesh. The fur, which ran from the small hooves up to his navel, was matted with dried blood and sludge, and crawling with maggots. The beady eyes completely black. No white to confirm that he was looking at Adam. Drool pooled down the chin onto the bare chest and when mixed with the blood it made it look like a woman's lipstick. A hoof, black and coated with tar took a furious step forward while he smiled an evil smile showing his hard, black gums. The creatures thin, rotting arms hung past his waist and dangled as he slouched forward. He slowly reached a mangled hand towards Adam. The twitching finger with a long, filthy fingernail motioned- no, demanded him to come closer. To follow him back. Past where the light could never have any hope of finding them.

Adam's then ragged breathing turned into gasps which morphed into screams muffled by coughing sobs as his body caught up with what was going on. The sly, scary grin of the Devil suddenly vanished as Adam's vision blurred with knowing, childlike tears pouring down his cheeks. The odds were suddenly turned, but the outcome remained the same when the light finally went out.

Upstairs, Adam's Father walked back up from the basement and undoubtedly placed the padlock key in his back pocket.