(Forbidden Basement – You are
renting a room in someone’s house as you transition to living in a
new city. The owner tells you that basement is absolutely, 100% off
limits. You don’t bat an eye at this request, until you start
hearing noises from the basement at night. After several weeks of
this, you sneak downstairs to see what’s going on. Finish the
scene.)
My boss had asked my if I was
interested in taking a temporary assignment out of town to bring some
new staff up to speed. It would be in Richmond, Virginia, probably
lasting six months or so. With the project's per diem and having
nothing better to do, I said OK. My girlfriend hooked me up with
AirBnB and she found me an attractive house in Richmond, not too far
away from the university and the job site.
I flew down to Richmond and Uber-ed my
way to the house. I met up with Edgar, apparently the owner, and
we went over the ground rules. He had to be away for a while but I
would have the run of the house, except for the basement. Given the
cost of the place and my per diem, I said that would be fine. I might
even make some money.
The work was pretty straight-forward.
The company had done pretty well recently and hired a bunch of new
staff in the shipping group. I was training them. I've done it tons
of times, but it takes a while. After a few months or so, however, I
realized that my classes weren't running as smoothly as they had. I
was distracted; I was tired. I was sleeping poorly. I was waking up
in the middle of the night to some sort of weird rhythm. Everyone was
learning what they needed, but as the training progressed, I didn't
have that pep to present the way I used to have.
One night, right
before a double espresso and right after bedtime, I was wide awake. I
heard a sound. And it clicked. The sound didn't “click” but it
made sense now. When I was trying to go to sleep each night, there
was this Thub! Thub!! Thub!!! distracting me, coming from the
basement. That was messing up my sleep.
Ping! Now that I
knew, I had to explore. Edgar was an excellent host, but still I
needed to get into the basement... I heard the sound again.
It was coming from
in the basement. This Thub! Thub!! Thub!!! was coming from behind the
basement door. And now it was getting Louder! Louder! Louder! I knew
this was the distraction. I knew I had to find the source of the
thub. I knew, also, I wasn't allowed down in the basement. I knew
also, also, that Edgar wasn't home. I turned the knob.
I got to the bottom of the stairs. Now,
the noise was deafening. It seemed like it knew I was looking.
Thub! Thub!! Thub!!! It was coming from
the main part of the cellar - not in the corner workshop or over by
the coal bin. But it was loud. I couldn't quite place it.
Thub! Thub!! Thub!!! I looked around.
Under the snow tires. Behind the beer fridge. Near the washer and
drier. Nothing. As I looked around, I saw a spot on the ceiling where
the sound seemed to be coming from.
Curious, I found a chair in the corner
of the basement and dragged in under the thumping under the ceiling.
It was getting louder. I got off the chair and went back to the shop
area and found a screwdriver.
Louder! Louder! Louder! I went back to
the chair and climbed on.
Louder! Louder! Louder! Locating the
source of the deafening sound, I pried the ceiling planks down. Years
of dust coated my face.
And plop into my hands. There, there,
still beating, was the hideous heart.
