The thing at the bottom of the stairs

“I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not scared.”

It’s always the same. I love the sunroom. I always come down here to play. Even when my friends are over I always want to play down here. From morning to night. But every night when it comes time to turn the lights off and go upstairs, it’s always the same. I always panic and race up the stairs. Suddenly sure there’s something waiting there to get me as soon as the lights go out. It’s ridiculous, I’ve slept down here more than once, always when my friends are over, but still I find myself panicking and running across the room and up the stairs.

I wouldn’t really call the sunroom a basement. The ground slopes down outside the wide windows turning what should be a basement into the lowest floor of a two-storey house, but the bare concrete of the place always makes it feel cold. The only light switch is across the room next to the door to the garage. If you want to go upstairs you need to cross the room and climb the tight spiral of stairs leading to the staircase. Only the first four steps curve after that it’s a straight narrow corridor of steep steps to the door at the top of the stairs. For as long as I’ve lived here, I’ve always bolted straight for those stairs any time I had to turn off the lights, but not tonight.

Tonight, I am going to be brave. I’m going to prove to myself that there’s nothing to fear once and for all. I’m going to turn off the lights and wait. I’ve got my watch set to ring after five minutes. If I can stay down here for five minutes without running away or turning on the lights, I’ll never have to be afraid again. There’s nothing to fear down here. The sunroom is my favourite room in the house. There is no reason for me to be scared, and I’m going to prove it.

I make my way over to the light switch. It’s just a plain grey box sticking out of the wall. You can even see the thick set of pipes where the wires run up to the pair of fluorescent lights hanging from the roof. I check to make sure my toys aren’t in the way. That the door to the garage is shut. That my watch is still working. I check a thousand things, still afraid of what comes next. Taking a deep breath, I flip the switch.

The room is pitch black. I feel that urgent panic to run. The same as always. I even feel myself pushing off the wall to start running back to the stairs. I barely manage to stop myself. There is no reason to be afraid. I stomp my feet, forcing myself to stay still. I have to do this. I push the button on my watch and a faint green glow lights its face. It’s only been ten seconds. It can do this.

“I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not scared.”

In the dark, the room seems miles wide. I’m not sure where I am. I reach my hand out feeling for the wall, but I’ve already moved too far. I don’t know where the light switch is even if I wanted it. I know which direction the stairs are, but I will not let myself baby out of this. Five minutes. That’s all. I just need to keep myself from panicking for five minutes. Five minutes and I’ll never have to be afraid again.

Sounds spring out of the darkness around me like snakes. I can hear the creaking floorboards above me as my parents walking around upstairs. I can hear the gasping hiss of the spare fridge out in the garage. I can hear the quiet ticking of the lights cooling off. I can hear my own ragged breathing as I struggle to stay where I am. I can hear the soft brushes of breeze outside the windows. And I can hear something else. A dim rustling sound that I can’t place. Like rotted cloth over concrete.

“I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not scared.”

Shuddering, I push the button on my watch again. One minute down, four more to go. The faint green glow of my watch does little to light the darkness around me. For three seconds I can see my own arms and legs again. The sickly green glow makes me look like a ghost. The light dies and all I’m left with is a fuzzy orange afterglow that dances before my eyes frozen on the last second it showed. After a few more seconds even that fades too.

Maybe five minutes was too long. I’m sure I’m going to get bored long before I finish. Maybe I should just go upstairs and watch tv. There is no reason for me to stand here in the dark the whole time. I take a step towards the stairs and frown. I’m just trying to chicken out of it. Being bored is better than being afraid. I sit down where I am and wait.

The cold stone floor beneath me sucks at my heat, trying to make me cold like it. I’m so tempted push the button again to see how much time has passed, but I know if I do that I’ll just end up watching the seconds drag on. The more I do it the longer it’ll take. Besides what I really want is light. I want to turn on the lights and show myself that the rustling I keep hearing is nothing. But that won’t prove anything, except that I’m too scared to even last five minutes in the dark.

“I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not scared.”

I decide to work out what is making that noise and show myself that there is nothing to be afraid of. First, where is it? I listen trying to pick out that sound from amongst all the other noises around me. I hush my breath, listening. The rustling scrape of ratty cloth scraping against concrete comes from the furthest corner of the room. The back wall away from the door and the stairs. The far corner where it’s too cold to bother playing.

I try to think what might be over there. Past the cheap foam couch. Past the ancient tv set Dad set up for us. Past all the toys and bric-a-brac scattered across the floor. In the corner where no one ever goes. The corner of the room that’s too far out of the way to be used. Nothing. We don’t put anything over there because everyone likes to keep close to the door or the stairs. Why go over there when here is just as good?

I can’t think of a single thing that we’d put over there that could be making that noise. Maybe I left one of the windows open and it’s just one of the curtains moving. But that can’t be right, we haven’t been able to open the windows since we got broken into and Dad had to replace them. Besides the windows are on the other side of the room anyway. The rustling shifts and stills. Maybe it was just my imagination after all. Jumping at shadows, trying to find any excuse to give up and run away.

I reach out my hand and drag my fingers along the floor for something I can use. Something clangs against my fingertips and almost goes rolling off into the darkness. One of my toy cars. I hold up the small lump of metal and plastic and listen. The rustling happens again, softer this time, like it’s waiting to see what I’ll do. Sucking in a breath, I chuck the little car as hard as I can in the direction of the rustling. I hear it clatter off the far wall and rattle to the ground. I’ll have to go find it again tomorrow, but at least that proves there’s nothing back there.

I press the button on my watch and check how much longer I have to be here. Just under two minutes to go. I’m almost done. After this I’ll never have to be afraid of the dark again. There’s nothing here. The sunroom is no different than it is in the daytime. Just because I can’t see anything doesn’t change the fact that this is the room that I love most in this house. I have my bedroom upstairs, but there’s just something about this giant space that is mine that I like more. Light or no light, there’s nothing down here that should change that.

Sssrrrrrrccchh.

Something bumps into my leg, rolling to a stop in front of me. I reach down blindly and squeeze it, too confused to worry if it’s a mouse or something. It takes a few seconds of holding the small lump of plastic and metal for me to realise what I’m holding, but when I do I feel a chill rush through me. In my hand is a toy car. The same toy car I’d just chucked across the room. I hear the rustling again, but this time it’s closer. The soggy scraping of ratty cloth against stone reaches my ears from over near the tv.

I jump to my feet, suddenly sure that I’m not imagining things. I stand frozen in place afraid to move. Afraid to breath. Torn between wanting to race for the stairs and wanting to race for the lights. Whatever is making that rustling is getting closer, I’m sure of it. The terrible scraping of that unseen thing against the cold floor is getting louder. I can hear it brushing against the toys scattered across its path as it drags itself forward.

“I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not scared.”

I mumble the words, trying to convince myself that this is the trick of my overactive imagination trying to scare myself out of staying here. Trembling, I raise my watch pointed in the direction of the sound. Sucking in a breath I push the button, sure that when I do I’ll see nothing and be free to laugh at my own stupidity. The green light springs from my wrist casting a sickly glow across the air in front of me. In my few seconds of light, I glimpse the hideous thing dragging itself over to me. Its legless body scraping the floor as it reaches its long withered arm towards me.

I turn and bolt for the stairs, no longer caring if I’ve lasted five minutes or not. I don’t care if I never come back down here again. Just so long as that monstrous thing doesn’t touch me. Something hard smacks me in the head and I go tumbling to the floor. My head thrums and for a moment I forget the thing crawling after me. The pain of running into whatever hit me blacks out everything else as I struggle to pull myself back up. Feeling out with my hands I find the thing that hit me. The underside of the stairs. The thudding in my head intensifies as the raspy scrape of that creature’s trailing guts pierces the air behind.

Staggering, I pull myself across the stairs and into the tight bend that marks the base of the stairs. Something brushes against my leg and I throw myself up those four crooked steps. I stumble up the narrow staircase, banging my shoulders against the thin walls around me. I reach the door, pulling at the knob, but it won’t budge. I hammer desperately against the door at the top of the stairs, hearing that hideous thing dragging itself around the bend, thumping heavily on each step behind me.

Trapped between the locked door and the thing crawling after me, I feel hopelessness wash over me. All I wanted was to prove that I was brave enough to do it. To spend five minutes in the dark without running away. To prove that I wasn’t a scaredy cat. I can sense the thing reaching out one rotted hand to drag me back down. It’s close now. It’s going to drag me back to whatever dark corner of the sunroom it holds claim to. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

De-det De-det De-det.

My alarm blares, echoing loudly in the tight staircase. Drowning out the awful scraping of the thing pulling itself up the stairs. I did it. I lasted five minutes in the dark. I feel my fear turn to anger at the creature trying to rob me of my victory. This is my room, I’ve earned it and I’m not going to let some thing take that from me. Slamming the button on my watch, eerie green light floods the narrow corridor of stairs. The thing freezes in front of me, its wicked arm outstretched to drag me down. I look the hideous beast right in the eyes and shout.

“I’m not scared. I’m not scared! I’M NOT SCARED!”

I shoot out my leg and kick the creature down the stairs. It clatters and crumples in the curve at the base of the stairs, tangled in its own trailing entrails. I stare down at it, savouring my triumph. Watching as the thing struggles to right itself, I feel the door unlatch behind me. Warm golden light fills the staircase as the door pulls open behind me and I go tumbling into the well-lit hallway above.

“I’m sorry, James. I didn’t know you were still down there, buddy. I thought you were off in your room.”

Dad helps me to my feet and I catch one last glimpse of the thing at the bottom of the stairs shrinking back from the light, glaring up at me, before Dad shuts the door and turns the lock again.

“That’s okay, Dad. I wasn’t scared.”