The Challenge:
In 3000 words or less, write about a girl who finds a body in her basement. When she tells her parents, it's no longer there...
The Result:
Occultus Sepulchrum
By
Lawrence BoarerPitchford
I’ve had the
unfortunate experience of seeing a dead body three times in my life. One
evening, when I was thirteen and getting some laundry from the basement, it first
happened. I could see it in darkness, lying on its side, near the drain, and
the dryer. My heart raced, and my mouth became instantly dry. I can tell you –
honestly, I never ran so fast up the stairs in my life. I ran through the
doorway, picked up a splinter in my finger from the jam as I passed, skidded to
a halt on the white linoleum and turned back to look at the dark doorway. Was
it a dead body, or worse, a monster?
My mother came
into the room and looked down at me, “Sheila, close that door. Were you born in
a barn?”
“But mom – there’s
something down there!”
“What something?”
I hesitated, “A body I think…”
“Don’t be silly. You saw a pile of your father’s old
clothes bunched up. I assure you there is no body in the basement.” She went to
the refrigerator and took out a bottle of milk, which instantly began to sweat,
and put it on the table. “I said close that door,” she indicated with her eyes.
I slowly went
over, put my hand on the knob, and pushed it shut. It clicked into place, and I
turned the lock. There was a body down there, but I wasn’t going to go back
down there without an escort. I was quite familiar with horror movies and how
they ended up. I was sure that thing in the basement was just waiting to kill me. My God, I thought, it could
try to come up in the night. It might slip under my bed, and reach up while I
sleep and grab my feet… I’d better tuck in my sheets.
After dinner we
all went into the living room and sat. My father insisted that we all read, and
not watch the ridiculously large flat screen television they bought for
Christmas. This night, I decided to forget the collection of works published by
Alfred Hitchcock, and instead open an old Agatha Christy work. Just as I was on
page eighty two, my father said something that stunned me.
“So, you saw a
body down in the basement today?” His voice was thick with fatherly knowing.
“Yes,” I said
stunned.
“Shall we have a
look?” His eyes sparkled as he said this.
“Okay,” I looked
over at my mother who was smirking.
“Come on, before
we have to go to bed.” He stood up, and we all followed him into the kitchen and
to the basement door. He unlocked it and looked over at me and smiled with a
sardonic expression. “Let’s get this done,” and he started down.
He flipped the
black light switch on and the bare bulb at the bottom of the stairs illuminated
the end of the basement and the junk that was strewn about. The wood creaked,
and the whole stairs swayed with us on it. Getting to the basement floor, my
father looked around the cement room. Nothing. No clothes on the floor. No
body. Just old junk, a peddle car, boxes of old toys, skis, some tools, and
three empty coolers, one stacked on top of the other at the far corner.
“Take a good
look,” father said. “If you find a body, I’ll eat my hat.”
There was none.
When I was
nineteen I returned from college for the summer. My parents were now traveling.
I had my friend Tina staying with me that night. That evening as we were
watching an old episode of Fawlty Towers on channel twelve, there was a tremendous
sound that resonated through the floorboards. Tina jumped from the couch, “What
the hell was that?”
“Sounded like
something fell over in the basement.” I looked at Tina and she was truly
scared. “Don’t worry. My parents store a ton of junk down there, and every once
in a while, it topples,” I said. “Come on and we’ll check it out.” I went into
the kitchen and got the flashlight from the pantry. As my hand touched the lock
on the basement door a cold chill ran up my spine. I suddenly felt like I was
thirteen again. Tina saw it in my face, and I saw a streak of panic in hers.
“Don’t worry, there’s two of us,” I stated.
Flipping the lock,
I opened the door. A waft of cigarette smoke hit my nose along with a strange
scent of cheap aftershave, and the odor of some chemical. I turned on the light
and we descended the stairs. As we rounded the stair wall, I thought I heard a
voice say, take care of it, then the
bulb flashed out. Tina and I froze. I switched on the flashlight and the beam
was shaking, then I realized I was shaking. A cold sweat came over me and it
took all my energy to force my steps downward. At the bottom, I angled the
flashlight toward the washer… then down at the floor. It was there, the body.
Tina screamed; I dropped the light, and we both nearly killed each other trying
to be first to the top of the stairs. Once I got into the kitchen, I slammed
the door shut and locked it. Tina was on the phone to the police.
Ten nerve racking minutes passed until the first of
two police cruisers arrived. Sargent Haywood took our statements and two others
went into the basement. They returned shortly after and shrugged their
shoulders. “Nothing down there but a lot of junk,” one said.
The Sargent smiled and nodded at his officer, “You
sure you checked every inch?”
“Honest Sarg, we checked everyplace. There’s nothing
down there that’s alive or dead.” The young officer tipped his hat to me.
“Sorry mam, we didn’t see anything.”
Tina’s face was stern, “We saw a body down there.
Don’t you tell me you didn’t find anything.”
“Perhaps you psyched yourselves out,” the Sargent
stated. “It happens. We get two or three calls a month regarding people seeing
things that just aren’t there. Were you watching anything scary, or
suggestive?”
“No,” I said.
“Okay, keep the basement door locked, and if you hear
anything else down there, call me and I’ll come by,” he handed his card to me.
“I’ll be on duty until nine in the morning.” He tipped his hat and went out
onto the porch.
“Could you leave a car here for a while,” Tina nearly
begged.
“Sure; for a while,” the Sargent said.
We watched them go. Outside the Sargent spoke to one
of his other officers and the fellow went to his car and sat inside. Tina and I
checked throughout the night, and the officer never left the driveway. In the
morning, Tina brought him a cup of coffee. He drank it and left. When she
returned to the house she packed up her things and called a cab. “You should
come with me,” she said.
“I can’t. I promised my folks I’d watch the place
while they’re gone.”
“You’re crazy to stay here after last night,” Tina
stated.
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”
“There’s no way I’m staying in that house again.”
Tina’s jaw showed the stress she was feeling.
After she left I prepared my resolve and went back
down into the basement. I replaced the bulb and stood there looking around.
There was nothing to indicate a body, or old clothes, or even justify the loud
bang we’d heard the night before. I shrugged my shoulders and went back up stairs.
For the next five days, I heard no further disturbances.
Six years later, I was working in Los Angeles,
California. I was at work when I got a call from my mother. She was upset, but
not frantic. “The house burnt down last night,” she said.
“Oh my God, what happened?” I stated. “Are you and dad
okay?”
“We’re fine dear. The firemen are going to do an
investigation, but he said it looked like an electrical fire that started in
the basement.”
“The basement?” I was shocked to hear her mention it.
“Your father and I were scheduled to travel to France
in two days. Is there any way we could impose on you to come out here and help
us find a contractor to rebuild the house?”
“You have got to be kidding?” The request was a
surprise. Why me? Couldn’t it wait?
“We’re worried that while we’re gone someone might
fall into the basement. If you could just come out and make sure the contractor
puts up a fence or something…” her voice cracked and I could hear she was on
the verge of tears. “This is so upsetting!”
“I know mom. I’ll get some time off and come out. You
and dad, don’t worry about anything.”
“Thank you my darling. You’re so sweet to do this for
us.”
“That’s because I love you two. I’ll get a flight and
be there on Tuesday. In the meantime, where are you and dad going to be
staying?”
“The Partmore Hotel. Dad got the room this morning.
We’re in room four-fifty-four.”
“Okay, I got it. See you guys on Tuesday.”
I made the arrangements and took two weeks off work.
Once I landed, I got a rental car and drove first to the burnt wreckage of our
old home. There was nothing left of the structure. It looked as if a contractor
had begun to remove the twisted pipes and metal work from the basement. Indeed,
it looked like a burnt hole in the ground. Even though I was shocked to see the
ruins, I chuckled out loud at the thought of the body in the basement. I
remembered how scared I was when I saw it, and how foolish I felt when I
couldn’t find it again.
After checking into my room at the Partmore I found my
parents and we had dinner. We reminisced, and even talked about the body in the
basement. I suggested that they sell the lot, but they insisted on rebuilding.
I asked about the contractor and was surprised to learn that it was Glen
Hobart; a friend of mine from when I attended high school. After dinner we
retired to our rooms and I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. When the alarm
went off, I was a bit disoriented.
I showered, dressed, and drove over to the house. I
was filled with bitter-sweet nostalgia. As I arrived, I could see men pulling
wreckage out of the basement and piling it up to the side of the foundation.
“Glen!” I shouted. He looked different, older, and a
bit plumper.
“Sheila?” He looked at me as if he was seeing a ghost,
“What brings you here from L.A.?”
I looked at him and gestured toward the basement, “My
parent’s house burnt down,” I said.
He laughed, “Ya, I guess it was a dumb question. I’m
glad to see you,” he added.
“I’m glad to see you too. So, any idea what caused the
fire?”
“The place was a fire hazard. Junk in the basement
pressed against some shorting electrical wires; at least that’s what the Fire
Marshal is suggesting.”
“Hey Glen, come have a look at this!” shouted one of
his workers.
We both went over to the edge and looked down. Around
the charred concrete and rubble, there was a clean area. “What is that,” I asked.
“Looks like another floor,” Glean stated as he climbed
down into the hole. “Bring a couple of picks and a shovel,” he said.
They began clearing away the burnt debris and after a
few minutes it was quite clear that there was clean cement under the burnt
cement. “It looks like someone poured a second layer of cement over the
original floor,” Glen called up to me.
“Holy shit!” a young blond haired man with a shovel stated.
“Look at that.” He was pointing at some blue cloth.
Clearing away the rest of the cement it became clear
there was a body there. The blue cloth turned out to be a suit, and as they
scraped away the debris, a skull and hand bones of a corpse became visible.
“Call the police,” Glen said. “You’d better stay back Sheila for now.”
I called my parents, but there was no answer. I left a
message on their voicemail. The police arrived as did a crime scene truck. They
taped off the area and descended into the basement. I climbed up on my rented car
and could just barely see into the hole. A man was pulling the suit jacket
back. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a leather wallet. Opening it he
gasped and stepped back. “Lieutenant, get over here!” he shouted. “You’re not
going to believe this!”
Three other officers came over, and they too looked
surprised. “My God, who would have thought,” the Lieutenant said. He climbed
from the hole and approached me. “How long did your parents own this house?”
“Forty years maybe,” I said.
“Your parents must have bought it after the body was
buried,” he stated.
“What?”
“That body down there,” he looked as if he was about
to bust open, “is the crime scene of the century.”
“What are you talking about?” I was in little mood for
foolishness at this point.
“The name on the license… it says James Riddle Hoffa!”
To this day my thoughts drift back to the body lying
there, and the police standing around. What did my parents say about this whole
affair? They had little to say on the matter. And, as it turned out, my parents
didn’t travel to France, they actually went to Bolivia. They have a nice house
there, and aren’t planning on coming back.
For More on Lawrence BoarerPitchford:
Lawrence BoarerPitchford, Author
Thadius
Sawbones
The Lantern of Dern Blackhammer
In the World of Hyboria
Tales of Mad Cows and Brothels
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