Crappy picture, but trust me these basement steps at my Dad's house are steep. The railing is "okay" and yet feels a tad precarious. The top fluorescent light takes forever to flick on (if it does at all), which adds to the bad horror movie atmosphere.
These are the steps down to the washer and dryer in the unfinished section of the basement. The finished section is total retro stuck-in-the 60s with panel walls, off color stick-on tiled floor, leftover saggy furniture, and a television with an antenna (I don't think it works). It's the land that time forgot and is musty.
The unfinished section has always creeped me out. The hulking furnace groans in the corner. Thousand leggers roam the concrete floors, and huge spiders could stroll by. One meager light bulb flickers overhead. Shadows are eerie and noises echo.
Something always creaks, crackles, or whistles. (and no, I don't mean my knees)
I managed to swallow fears and conquered laundry here in PA. (Once again up to help Dad - more stories to tell)
But the words, "Go to the basement" bring a chill down my spine.
Joanne Faries, originally from the Philadelphia area, lives in Texas with her husband Ray. She considers herself fortunate to be able to pursue a writing career after eons in the business world. Joanne enjoys reading and movies, and is the film critic for the Little Paper of San Saba.