Down There

"I'm not going down there." He clutched his pillow tighter. It couldn't really be called a pillow any more; all the goose down feathers inside had shriveled and clumped together with years and years of use. It was more like a lumpy pot holder now than a pillow. He shook his head and looked down into the darkness. "Uh, uh!"

"Aw, come on, Anny," David said, taunting his little brother. "It's just a basement."

Andy's mouth turned down at the mention of his nickname and his lips pursed together in a defiant scowl. Anny was a girl's name. Besides, it wasn't just a basement. It was like no room he had ever seen before. The rickety wooden stares looked like the spine of a dinosaur leading down into the dark pit below. Just below the entryway, he could see the concrete foundation and the dirt beyond. And the smell! The odor coming up from those dark depths reminded him of his great-grandmother's closet and her tobacco-stained lips whenever she tried to kiss him.

Andy shivered at the thought.

"Look, Anny. It's just a hole in the ground." David leaned in and flipped a light switch. Andy thought he heard a painful groan as the darkness retreated from the weak light.

He could hear the wind moan too; adding its harmony to the symphony of creaks, cracks, and pops played by the haunting within the old house. A storm was brewing outside; thunder rolled like the sound of a tympani drum. Down the stairs, the wind from outside whistled through cracks in the foundation and caused the hanging bulb to sway. Shadows and light moved across the walls and little Andy grew nauseous at the sight of the movement.

"See?" David continued. "It's like an underground clubhouse." As if to emphasize that he wasn't afraid, he took a step down. The wood creaked beneath his weight and Andy held his breath. He expected something to reach out between the stairs, grab his brother's ankle, and pull him through. Nothing grabbed his brother though; he just stood on the steps and grinned as if taking a single step down was going to convince Andy to come along.

"I'm not going!" Andy squeezed more life out of his pillow and he clutched it tighter to his chest.

"Fine," David said, taking another step down. "I am."

What was that look? In the briefest of moments, David's resolve collapsed around him. His eyes blinked rapidly and his head shook slightly as if a shiver had run up his spine and he was doing his awful best to keep Andy from seeing it. Andy saw it though, and he could not believe it. His big brother was supposed to be fearless; unafraid of anything. In that same moment, Andy saw the fear his brother carried; it was a fear to match his own. David just hid it better.

Seeing David's fear actually made Andy feel brave. His brother needed him! All this time Andy felt like he was the one that needed David, but it was the other way around; David needed HIM.

Andy took a tentative step toward the door. "Are you scared?"

David sucked in a breath of air and puffed out his chest. He was about to say something to Andy; probably a lie, but then thought better of it. He deflated like a balloon, glanced down behind him, and weakly said, "Yes, a little."

"Me too."

Built in the mid-1800s, the big stone house had plenty of history. A local cattle man by the name of Rice built it with quarried stone from a nearby creek bed. Thousands of acres separated him, his wife, and three children from the nearest neighbors. They rarely went to town because all the farmers that surrounded the ranch would come by every few days and trade their freshest vegetables for a side of beef or liver. Others would bring eggs to trade too. Trips to town were only for those specialty items that was not grown or raised within a ten mile radius and included foodstuffs like flour, sugar, and yeast for bread.

On one particular afternoon, the Egg Man was due to call but he was running late. He pulled up in his buggy just after noon and called to the stone house, announcing his arrival. Nobody answered.

He jumped to the ground and glanced toward the barn. The Rice's own buggy was still in the barn and the four horses they owned were still in the corral. He pounded on the screened door with a sun darkened fist and called hello again. Still no answer. The Egg Man pulled open the door and tentatively stepped across the threshold. A sudden aroma flooded his sense of smell: boiled cabbage. He crossed the porch and peeked through the inner door, which led to the kitchen. He pushed open the door and stepped in.

There, on the table, was an untouched feast. Boiled potatoes steaming in a clay dish; fresh bread smothered by a small towel (he knew if he touched the bread it would be warm as if it came directly from the oven...which he was sure it had); another clay dish filled with kernels of corn and a pat of half-melted butter on top; char grilled steaks on a platter; and to confirm what his nose had first noticed when he entered the kitchen, a pot full of boiled cabbage.

The Egg Man heard a creaking behind him and spun around. He expected to see one of the members of the Rice family but there was nothing there. The door leading to the basement was moving ever so slightly, but he could not feel any sort of breeze through the house. It was a hot summer day but the Egg Man had a sudden chill as he watched the door. It was as if the basement was breathing; each inhale pulled the door open and each exhale pushed the door almost, but not all the way closed. He stepped to the door and pressed his ear as near to the crack in the door as he could without touching it.

He listened and heard nothing from below.

On the counter to his left was an oil lamp. He fished his lighter from his pocket, lit the lamp, adjusted the wick and pushed the door to the basement open.

There are many varying stories as to what the Egg Man saw in that basement, but only he knew for sure. When he returned from that darkness, his salt-and-pepper hair had turned completely white. What the surrounding community did know was that the Rice family mysteriously, leaving a fully prepared meal still sitting uneaten on the dining room table.

As little Andy approached the door leading to the basement, he remembered the story that David had told him and he paused just shy of the first step. David's version of the story (obviously made up, Andy told himself) had the Egg Man descending to the basement and finding the entire family stuck in the walls of the basement, as if the dirt had grown hungry and decided to eat the family in slow motion. Only portions of each body was visible: a couple of arms and hands, some feet, Mr. Rice's entire upper body embedded in the wall with only his legs visible.

Andy imagined that they were still down there and that they were waiting for him and David. He imagined that the walls were hungry again and that he and David would be the basement's next meal. David stood in front of him now; his face no longer reflected that brief glimpse of fear, but was set in stone and brave. He was ready to make the descent. His hand stretched toward Andy who was not about to let his big brother down.

He took David's hand and crossed the threshold.

The basement was not as bad as Andy thought it would be. Yes, the walls were dirt and had probably not changed a whole lot in the last 100 years, but at least there were no human body parts sticking out of them. Shelves full of various types of supplies camouflaged most of the dirt. Cans of fruit covered one complete shelf and cans of vegetables covered the shelf right above it. More foodstuffs filled the remaining shelves. The shelf on the right was full of blankets and batteries of every size. Another set of shelves covered the far wall. It contained cans of camping fuel, boxes of safety matches, paraffin (whatever that is, he thought), and boxes upon boxes of thick white candles.

Andy just noticed that his brother was no longer beside him. David walked the perimeter of the basement and touched many of the items on the shelves. His fingers came away covered with dust; cobwebs spread from almost everything on the shelves. David swirled his finger through some and when he held his finger up to Andy, Andy could not help but think that his finger looked a whole lot like white cotton candy on a stick.

Andy looked up. He stood directly beneath the single light bulb and he could not help but think that it looked really, really old. As if on cue in a movie, the light bulb flared a little brighter and popped. Darkness descended on the basement.

Andy clutched his pillow to his chest and quietly called, "David?"

No answer.

"David?"

Andy sniffed. There was a sudden odor in the air.

Cabbage.

Andy spun in a circle and looked back to where he thought the stairs would be. The darkness was complete in all directions. He could not find the door; it must have closed behind them as they descended.

"David?" he called again.

Still no answer. He could not hear anything but his own breathing. He stepped forward with his hand outstretched. The smell of boiling cabbage was overwhelming now; the odor so strong that it stunk.

His hand found a shelf and he used it as a guide as he made his way around the basement. He sniffled again and realized that his cheeks were wet with tears. He reached the end of the shelf and dreaded what came next. He could keep walking and reach blindly about him as he stumbled through the basement, or he could step forward and continue walking by using the dirt wall as his guide. Something about touching the dirt frightened him but he stepped forward anyway.

As he touched the wall, he felt his fingers begin to sink inward, as if the wall had suddenly turned into mud. It sucked at his fingers and gently, slowly, tried to pull him in. He jerked his hand back and was surprised that he was able to pull his hand away from the wall.

"Andy?" It was David! His voice came in a hoarse whisper, and it came from the wall in front of him. The basement had his brother!

He backed away and sat down on the floor. He gently rocked back and forth and tried to be brave and not cry, but he could not contain his fear. (It wasn't until too late that he noticed the dirt floor was gently turning to mush and he was slowly sinking.) He struggled against the pull but could not free himself.

Andy screamed.









         

1899 words