I was terrified of our basement when I was little. I would always hear sounds coming from down there, and my dad convinced me to never go down there, he told me that there are monsters down there.
I know right? What an a*****e. Tells his kid that there are monsters in the basement. Anyways, one day my mum told me to go get our clean laundry from the washer. The thing is, that the washer is in the basement.
I was 14 at the time, and I had never gone down there before, since my dad told me not to. I was really scared, but didn’t want to look like a coward in front of my mum, so I went down there anyway. I opened the door and flicked on the lights. To my surprise, it didn’t look bad at all.
I stepped down the creaky, old wooden stairs and started stacking our laundry into a basket my mum gave me. I heard scratching and what sounded like muffled shouting/weeping coming from a locked iron door across the room.
This was dad’s “workshop”. He had told me since I was 3, to NEVER EVER go down there, like EVER. So I decided to brush it off. I was still a little bit creeped out by the scratching, so I rushed out of there as soon as I was done with the laundry. It took 3 years for me to go down there again. This happened the day after my mum and dad had a huge fight.
I cried myself to sleep that night, and in the morning I had to go get the laundry since my dad was working on something in his “workshop”. This time I heard loud as hell screams and a disturbingly high pitched drilling noise coming from the room. I decided it was time to check these sounds out.
I slowly creeped close to the metal door, wrapped my sweaty hand around the cold handle, and swung the door open. What I saw, was horrific. Bloody chains swinging about. Body parts scattered all around the floor.
But what haunts me most, is what I saw next. My dad was pinning my mum’s weak body against the wall, using a drill. He then turned his head around to face me, smiled, and said: “Thomas, this is where the bad people go. I am god. I told you not to come down here. But you did. Now you’re bad too.”
His grin widened, as he started sprinting towards me. I ran out of the basement and pushed a nearby dresser against the door. I proceeded to book it out of the house and into my dad’s old Subaru. I drove off as fast as a fighter jet.
I obviously called the cops, and there was a 2 year long investigation on this case, but they never found my dad. Turns out my dad was a serial killer, complete maniac. He skinned people and sold their skin on the black market, he sold body parts, etc. My mum was found 4 hours after I left the house, cut into huge chunks of flesh. My dad might still be out there somewhere, killing people just like he did before.
The ironic thing is, he always told me to stay out ’cause there were monsters down there. The only real monster was himself.