Going Down by Ashley Greathouse
Another edition of October Stories; a short story by Ashley Greathouse.
Going Down
By Ashley Greathouse
I’d lived in this building for three years and never once thought about venturing into the basement… Until today.
I passed by the entrance every single day, either on my way to the elevator or heading through the lobby. Not once did I linger. I was too busy, and time was money.
Today, though, I had my first free day in six exhausting months. So, I took my sweet time. I noticed everything: the cream-colored swirled tile in the hallway, the long navy runner that covered the walkway, the antique pictured between my neighbors’ doors. I soaked in the aesthetic the property owner pain snakingly maintained all the way down the glass walled elevator.
Suddenly, I felt proud of busting my ass at the office to afford this place.
With my carefree, self-absorbed mindset, I daydreamed of how I would spend my day. It was rare for me to have a whole day to do whatever I wanted, and I wasn’t about to waste it lazing around inside. I needed fresh air, fresh scenery. No, I needed an adventure.
As the elevator stopped on the main floor, I stepped out, ready to find excitement in the city. But an odd scratching noise pulled at my attention. I looked over, and beside the elevator entrance was a deep red door.
How have I never noticed this?
Without hesitation, I moved closer.
Again, the scratching; like claws tearing against wood. There had to be a dog, or something stuck down there. I could see the door wiggle as the poor thing panicked.
I know it wasn’t my concern, but I wasn’t about to ignore it—not when I had the time to be nosy. Eagerly hoping for a noteworthy encounter, I opened the door. To my surprise, nothing was there.
“Well, that’s odd.”
I gazed down the empty stairs, straining my eyes to see through the thick shadows. Nothing. I shrugged it off, thinking that I’d probably scared off whatever was just there. With a sigh of disappointment, I closed the door. And just as it latched, the scratching continued, this time, sounding more distant.
I knew I’d heard something.
I flung the door open and descended the steps. “Here, puppy,” I called, venturing further into the darkness. Poor thing’s probably scared to death, I thought.
Finally, I reached the bottom, and just as my foot landed on the concrete floor, I heard a low growl from across the space. Fumbling for my phone, I tried to use it as a light.
“It’s okay,” I soothed the unseen animal, waving my phone around.
“You shouldn’t be down here,” a woman called out from behind me, scaring me half to death.
I whirled around. “Sorry, is that your dog?” An embarrassed smile covered my face. “I thought the little furball was lost.”
The woman met my eyes with a disgruntled scowl.
“Look,” I put my hands up, “I didn’t realize this was closed off to residents. Maybe there should be a lock on the door?” I offered, more helpful than defensive.
She laughed. “That wouldn’t be wise. I mean, you don’t lock your pantry, do you?”
Her comment threw me off. “Okay… Well, I’ll get out of your way,” I sighed, attempting to move past her.
“Oh, please stay for dinner.” She smiled, stopping me in place just before a sharp pain rippled through my thigh. My eyes locked onto hers just in time to see the woman-turned-beast lunge towards me.
Bio:
Ashley Greathouse is an author and paranormal investigator who resides in Indiana.
Despite her fascination with the paranormal, Ashley maintains a healthy dose of skepticism, fully aware of the mind's capacity to conjure illusions, especially given her diagnosis of schizophrenia.
This self-awareness brings a unique depth to her narratives, as she explores the psychological dimensions of fear and the unknown. Her stories, often categorized under horror, delve more into the psychological nightmares rather than relying on gore, reflecting her personal battles and insecurities.
Greathousehorrors.com
