My daughter is the absolute love of my life, she is my spitting image a little mini me that likes to follow me around and do all the “guy” stuff a father would do. When I work on the house she is the one that hands me my tools, though she is only 7 years old she already knows what a pair of channel locks look like, she even knows how to properly use a measuring tape; I find it to be the most adorable thing whenever her little finger counts how many 1/16's or 1/8" of an inch something is. I know most parents probably wouldn’t feel safe with their 7 year old handling tools but I’m always there to supervise her and make sure she learns how to respect said tools, me telling her as usual
“These are what?”
“They’re not toys” she would always respond in her cute soft voice bringing a smile to my stoic face.
Whenever we do finish a project together my little helper would gather up all the tools and place them carefully into my tool box, trying her best to pick up the container to hand it to me. Her little arms would just aggressively shake with effort; trying her best to lift the heavy box, so I would usually let her try for several minutes, me watching on with enchantment at her ambition. Finally after giving her several minutes to try and seeing her huffing and puffing from exhaustion I will bend down to her level and kiss her little forehead and then pick up the heavy box taking down into the basement where I house the rest of my equipment. She always wants to go down there, an idea I am not to fond of; knowing I have way too many tools and construction material out in the open where she could easily get hurt. This only made her curiosity grow and for being a small child I could imagine how much her imagination must of built up what was down in the basement, so I decided to use that wonderment to my advantage, I told her there was a monster living in the basement. I figured this would be the perfect deterrent to discourage her from ever wanting to go down there.
I know what your thinking, what kind of father tries to scare their 7 year old kid, well I guess me, and I know what probably bothers you even more why wouldn’t I just put a lock on the door. You see, that’s where I have an issue I don’t like locked doors; for the longest I didn’t even lock our front door something my wife would always scold me about, but for the sake of my daughter when she was born I did comply in locking the front door; to my wife’s delight.
When I was a kid I was captivated with the game hide and seek, I would always badger my mother to play with me, something that I could clearly see annoyed her. So I would a lot of times just hide from her and eventually jump out of my hiding spot to scare her, the times my mother would jump I would feel a sense of victory as if my 'stealthiness' deserved some award. My mother unlike me seem to always lock doors in fact almost every door had a lock on it even our closets. So one day while my mother was cooking I decided to hide in my parents closet and jump scare her whenever she came upstairs to find me for breakfast. I quietly tippy toed into their room not wanting the floor boards to squeak, I then unlocked and slid open the closet door, I walked in and shut it behind me. I crouched down and waited quietly in the darkness giggling to myself already envisioning my mothers reaction and that’s when I heard the growl, it was coming from behind me. It was a horrid sound as if a rabid dog was snarling at me ready to pounce, I turned my head to the noise trying to figure out what it was and to my dismay it was pitch black I couldn’t see a thing.
That’s when I heard my mother enter the room and I guess she had seen that the closet door was unlocked and came over to lock it, me enthralled with the devilish sound that was protruding from the darkness left me unaware at the time that she had locked me in there with whatever was making that sound. I tried to get out but the door wouldn’t budge, I banged on the door and screamed for help, tears falling down my cheek I could hear the sounds of that growl growing closer. I even wet myself from terror as I felt a heavy warm breath permeate on the back of my neck and that’s when my father finally opened the door, I fell to the floor crying hysterically him looking on with befuddlement. Ever since that day I hated the idea of locked doors I guess you can say I was traumatized as far as whatever the hell that thing was I just accept the fact that my imagination got away from me.
So as I told my daughter about the monster in the basement I saw her eyes light up, not with fear but with excitement. I quickly realized my mistake but didn’t feel like crushing my daughters heart after I told about some monster so I continued playing along.
“Really a monster in the basement” she asked.
I nodded.
“But you gotta promise me not to go down there okay” I told her.
She happily nodded her head up and down; she had the hugest smile that I had ever seen.
As the weeks passed I didn’t even give much thought at what I told her I figured she would forget about it, but I would catch her every once awhile just staring at the basement door, I wanted to tell her the truth but seeing how enthralled she was with this imaginary monster made me hesitate from the idea of breaking that dream for her.
As time went on I started to notice a weird smell coming from the basement, it was a foul scent as if perhaps a critter died in the wall; but every time I would go down there to acquire the source of the smell I could never find it. My daughter always at the top of the stairs would tell me its because of Harry,
“Who?” I remember asking.
“He's the monster” she told me back.
I wasn’t too sure if was cute that she gave her imaginary monster a name or was it getting out of hand. The smell grew worse with each passing day and I was determined to find the root cause, I was ready to demolish the walls and find that dead creature that was inundating my house in its horrid stench, but my wife reminded me of our yearly camping trip, I was a bit perturbed knowing the smell would only grow worse but I didn’t want to disappointment my family and we went on our little getaway.
Returning home I had completely forgotten about the smell, that was until I stepped inside the house, the stench had grown worse and I vividly could tell it was coming from the basement. I told my family to wait outside as I headed towards the basement door, I cautiously opened it and the foul smell hit me like a bag of bricks I nearly fainted; it was terrible I felt myself begin to gag. It was as if dozens of animals had died down there and their rotting corpses drenched the air with their stench. I turned on the light to the basement but the bulb didn’t illuminate
“Perfect” I told myself.
I covered my nose the best I could with my hand and proceeded to head down the stairs into the darkness until I heard my daughter walking towards me.
“baby I said to wait outside” I told her.
“Its Harry, its what he eats” she told me.
“What?” I asked back with a perplexed expression.
“I feed it cats” she responded back.
And that’s when I heard it; the sound that terrified me when I was a kid, it was that growl, it was coming from the bottom of the stairs. I slowly turned my head, sweat inundating my body, my heart rate began to accelerate.
“No not possible” I whispered underneath my breath.
I stared down into the dark basement trying to make out anything and that’s when I saw it, 2 ghastly eyes glowing in the dark staring right up at me.
“It’s just Harry, don’t be scared” my daughter said, me barely making out her words since I was too engulfed with the presence of this demon, then what my daughter said next chilled me to the bone and my eyes widened with utter terror,
“I haven’t fed him since we left, he’s…just…hungry”.
I shut the door after that and grabbed my daughter, retreating back to our vehicle. We haven't returned home in a few days, my wife thinks I'm going crazy and my daughter well, she misses Harry. I'm not sure what the plan is but I know one thing for sure and that is I'm not returning back to that home anytime soon.
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