Hey readers! Welcome to this little collection of one-shots. As the summary stated. These are horror stories that borrow the Yu Yu characters. Think of this as an exercise in my favorite genre, similar to "Underground."
As always, thank you for reading, and please feel free to leave a review.
Before my mother passed away, my family and I lived in a two story house located in a small neighborhood that was near the city park. While not large, there was more than enough room for my parents, myself, and my infant brother. Three bedrooms, a cozy, carpeted den and a kitchen with an island. The house even had a sizable backyard that I could run around in. It couldn't have been more perfect. Except, that is, for the basement. I know, I know, creepy basements are rather cliché, but the entire room was just…strange. No matter how much air freshener my mother sprayed, it always smelled like damp earth. As if someone had left one of the windows open after it rained. We also never had any bug problems. No spiders, no cockroaches, no centipedes, but for some reason, my dad and I were always finding a rather large accumulation of dead flies on the window sills. Every week we would have to go down and sweep away a carpet of tiny black bodies. Dad always just laughed it off, saying that we must have had one very lazy wolf spider who didn't finish his meals.
I never disagreed with my father, but his explanation never made any sense. After all, wouldn't we be finding the carcasses on the floor as opposed to the window sills? Whenever I had to go down by myself, I could never shake the feeling of being watched. Sometimes, when I would get up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, or use the bathroom, I would hear strange scuffling noises coming from the basement. Once, when my dad sent me down to grab something he'd left, I saw the bottle of glass cleaner my mother kept down there had been opened and spilled all over the floor. My parents however, never shared my trepidations, and my dad set up a card table down there and would sometimes have his friends over on the weekends where they would play all sorts of card games late into the night.
So, late one afternoon while my dad was at work, my mother gets a wild hair and decided it was a great day to deep clean the whole house, top to bottom. Being a typical kid, I didn't want to partake in an endless series of chores, but my mother managed to talk me into it. After a couple hours of vacuuming bedrooms and dusting every surface on the upper and ground floors, my mother went off to prepare dinner but not before giving me the order to clean the basement. She also asked me to take my brother down with me so I could keep an eye on him. I didn't want head in to the basement, but having Kazuma made me feel somewhat reassured. And so, with my baby brother in my arms, I managed to snag a broom and trekked down into the basement. Once there, I set Kazuma down, placing him over by the far wall beneath a window.
It's here I should mention that the basement had a stone floor with only a few furnishings, those being the card table and a few chairs. The room only spanned half the house, with a small, sort of walk-in closet sized room in the far back. Since we never kept anything in there, Mom saw no reason to keep the door closed. This made going into the basement even more eerie because the first thing you saw was that small, dark room staring back at you from across the basement.
At any rate, once getting my brother situated, I moved the table and chairs and got to work sweeping the floor. About ten minutes had passed when I noticed Kazuma had begun to fuss. Thinking that he might have been tired, I ignored him and kept sweeping. However, his fussing only grew worse until he broke out into these horrible, blood-curdling wails. Shrill enough to shatter glass, these weren't the normal cries of a fussy baby. Whipping around, I saw my brother sitting against the wall, wailing, and pointing. I followed the direction of his finger and found he was pointing towards the small room. As I stared into that dark little chamber, I could feel something watching me from inside. Clutching the broom, I stared back, paralyzed by fear. Kazuma let loose another cry and the door slammed shut. Taking that as my cue, I threw the broom to the ground, grabbed my brother, and ran upstairs. My mother met me in the kitchen doorway, as she had heard my brother's screams and became concerned. I explained everything. My mother frowned, not sure if she wanted to believe me. However, seeing her two children terrified out of their minds, my mother decided she'd go downstairs to investigate. After minutes that passed like hours, she came back upstairs, face drawn and a bit pale. She took my brother from me and led me into the kitchen, bidding me to sit at the table. I did, and she sat across from me. Reaching forward, she took hold of my hands and held them for a long time. Finally, she looked me dead in the eyes and said,
"Shizuru, from now on, we don't go into the basement."
I could only stare back at her and nod, too scared and confused to question her. My father came home shortly after. Later that night after I had gone to bed, I could hear my mom talking to my dad in the kitchen. I'm not sure what she said, but the very next day, dad moved the card table and chairs from the basement to the far corner of the den. Mom never told me what she saw. A couple months later, my mother fell ill and passed away. Finding it hard to move on, surrounded by so many memories, my father sold the house and we moved to a small house further in the city. A few years later, I was passing through the park and on a whim decided to visit my old neighborhood. While walking the streets, I came upon my old house. In the driveway sat a pale blue Hyundai. Curious, I walked up to the door and knocked. I stood on the front step, waiting for the door, admiring the rose garden that they'd put in. The door opened and a dark-haired woman looking to be in her early forties blinked, surprised to see a teenager standing on her doorstep. I smiled and introduced myself, explaining that I used to live in the house. The woman smiled back at me and we made small talk about the neighborhood, how good the neighbors were, the convenience of its location, etc. Eventually, my curiosity overcame me and I asked her if she'd ever experienced anything strange while down in the basement. When I asked her that question, the woman sort of jumped as if I'd shocked her. She dropped her gaze to her feet and remained silent for a few minutes. Finally, she looked back up at me, and in a small, timid voice replied,
"My…my husband and I…we don't go into the basement."
Well? How was it? Drop me a line, guys!
