The stairs smell dank and musty and her nose wrinkles up, reluctant to go in. This is how every horror movie starts, isn't it?
No light. Of course. Creak of wooden tread and what if it gives way under her? What if she falls? Impaled on a broken riser?
Stop it! It's a basement. Dusty. Dark. But empty.
But it's not, and somehow, at the back of her mind, she knows it's not. Somewhere, down deep, where she's afraid to look, she knows that the noises and the cold draughts are not just the old house.
Something else lives here.