The Cellar

Being from the southwest my family was used to the early summer tornado outbreaks. Every year there were two, sometimes three violent weeks of severe weather. This weather would keep us up all hours of the night with the unpredictability.

At first I didn’t mind going down in the cellar, sometimes we’d sit all night long. The sirens would start and my dad would usher us all down there. I’d carry my pillow, blanket and some form of entertainment. There was an old bench we’d sit on and that old transistor radio dad would try to listen to. There were candle stubs on tinfoil and matches that had gotten too damp and wouldn’t strike. We were happy dad smoked those nights and would pull out his bic lighter to light the little candles that we said we would always replace but never did.

No one could say just when that old cellar started leaking and retaining water. I just remember that one night dad ushered us down there. It smelled of mold and mildew and when i saw that dead frog floating upside down there was no way I was going any further than the last step. I was not getting my feet wet. My sister and I were screaming and crying and my dad was doing his best not to lose his temper. My brother was splashing around in the water just making the whole experience worse than it had to be. With the screaming and crying and splashing all the sounds were bouncing off all sides of the cellar causing a loud disorienting cacophony.

After that I remember my dad renting a pump to try to get the water out of the cellar and he did. He also replaced the candles and matches. But every time it rained the water would be back. It would seep through the cracks and pool in our cellar.

That one day though when I got home from school and was by myself and the tornado sirens started blaring, I did what I knew to do. I headed to the cellar. It was flooded, it reeked of stagnant water and dead frogs. I was scared, but I could do this. It didn’t dawn on me to get shoes or a flashlight and I really wanted to see. As I stepped into the murky, slimy water my foot slipped on the nastiness of the floor. I fell back and hit my head on the last step. I still recall the crunch my skull made as my glazed eyes stared up to the cellar door hoping someone would come and find me.

I can’t say for sure how long my body lie there, rotting in the stagnant water. I do remember seeing my dad find me there. He ran down the stairs screaming. “I found her! Oh my God!”

It’s been a very long time, since anyone has been down here in this cellar. I hear all kind of stories about it being haunted...but I’m just lonely.

image is of indeterminate source; I found it through an article that linked back to this Reddit thread, where it is mentioned as having been scattered around the net with various descriptions as to its provenance: https://goo.gl/KBRm8I