I heard a clatter coming from the basement. As I muted the television, i stood slowly. Was there another family of rats down there or had something simply fallen. As I searched for protection for a potential rat attack, i heard the basement door click open. Upon realizing that I was the only one home and rats can not turn door handles, I panicked. What if this intruder was trying to rob me? Rape me? Kill me?
A basement is a very scary place. It is where all the fears of my childhood are housed. I can’t ever do down there because it is cold and dark with monsters lurking in every corner. The light never works and I fear the rickety stairs. Please do not ask me to go down there – I may never return.
Going down into the ground you never know what is to be found.
Is it your darkness full of fears? Enough to fill you up with tears or maybe a treasure full of delight that you can wonder at its sight.
I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of something in my basement. I had no idea what it was, or what it could be, I just knew it was there, I put on my slippers and crept down the hall to the doorway. I heard the noise again and slowly opened the door…
My eyes flit open. The first thing I notice is the smell, the rotting, musty smell. Then comes the damp feeling. From the stuffy, humid dark around me I conclude that I am in a basement. I walk around, feeling for a wall, blindly. I must get out.
I sat waiting for some time. Eventually the sun started to sink beneath the city skyline and the temperature dropped. It was a cold way to start the evening, but it would only get colder as the night took over from the day. After three hours I was freezing. My first night in the basement.
is the living place of the boys. i used to live in a basement and now i live incomplacent to everyones opinions but get awesome support from loving family and freinds
I live in my mothers basement. There is somebody for everybody? No this is a piece of writing, fiction if you will that someone that lives in their mothers base to give themselves hope to push until the next day…
I never really liked basements, i didn’t have any in the houses Ive ever lived in but i know my aunts and uncles have them in Utah, but they always freaked me out since they were like under the house and dark and creepy i felt like the whole house was going to fall on top of me if i stayed down there and the things was there were no windows! i was scared to ever go down there alone. i always thought that it would be cool to have like a whole basement as your room, like the ones where there is a kitchen attached and there are like three rooms! that would be cool.
The basement was dark, damp. The odor of burnt flesh, like sickly sweet chocolate grilled over a charcoal fire, filled the air. Walker could see the body in the corner, hidden in the shadows, away from the lone light bulb. He screwed his face up in anticipation. It wasn’t his first body, but it never got easier.
When I was a kid, me and my brothers loved our basement. It was like our sanctuary. All the happy memories from my childhood are locked up in that basement forever. It is now a part of someone else’s life, never to be seen by me again.
Don’t go in the basement. Whatever you do. Don’t go. If you do, the fungus and the mildew will get you. It will eat your lungs. It will suck your ears out. It will make you wish you had gotten that small timeshare condo in northern Alaska, where the igloos are impenetrable and hostile to microbial ife forms. Oh yeah, and fish poo.
Dark stairs, the bottom reached. Why didn’t I listen to what he said? Fear consumes me; my mind isn’t functioning. All I see is dark and my own demons. I’m facing them, but not by choice. Never by choice.
the basement is flooded. Jim is drowning, we dont know how it got this way, but we know that its all going to be ok tomorrow. we dont know what happened, but we know that somehow our feet will always be wet
My basement looks exactly like my grandfather’s. It’s large, with steep stairs leading down into it. It is so full of stuff that you can hardly move, let alone find a single pathway through the clutter. Mostly it’s composed of old gadgets that looked interesting at first but have turned out to be useless. Who knows why we keep them. There are old toys, too, memories left to collect dust but somehow still to precious to throw away. The cobwebs are everywhere, but you’ll never see a spider. They flee at the sound of the door…
i live in a basement in my residence. we barely get any sunlight and people pee in our windows if we leave them open. people watch me change if i leave the blinds open. welcome to university.
there will always be memories attached to my grandmothers basement, the slumber party virginia and i hosted as kids. the manequin scare on thanksgiving, and doing my laundry and chatting with my grandmother about life. yes, i did enjoy that particular basement.
the dark cold and dreary confinement in my grandmothers house, where the manequin and the cat lives. as a child i would have nightmares about two evil twin girls living under the basement stairs and the closet in the corner was always frightening. building blocks and having our slumber party will always be my fondest memory.
i was always afraid of the furnace that sat crouching in the corner of our unfinished basement. it beckoned to me, knobs and grill arranging themselves into a smirk, as if they knew i’d never have the courage to go over there and confront it myself.
the basement is the plae where many things can happen that involve creative powers. juices. flowing and for some reason underground. in the hiddneness away from the light. where no one can see hwat you are doing. the basement. the world where anything can happen as long as there is good ventiliation. the place that gets most dank. to the point of attracting spiders – espe
The dark scary place that no one wants to go. There are things down there, things that you keep hidden. Things that you want no one else to find. It can be metaphorical for your life and the things that you never want any one else to know about you. Your deep dark secrets…
dark and deep with stairs leading underneath and stairs that creek to the depths where all the secrets and loose ends are stored whose use is far outworn. Hidden in darkness with a light with a string ths
It was down in the basement that the accident occurred. Tripping over a tiny lego piece, then attempting ot doge a spider dangling in front of my yeses, I somuersaulted over the banister, landing hard on my feet.
in the dark depths of my mind the monsters weezed and hissed while the shadows danced across my face in the moon lit room. I found my broom and headed up.
isa scarey place, who knows what lurkes in the corners of the basement. Spiders, mice, rats, little mean creachers or maybe kindly brownies. Many people do laundry in the basement. Sumpumps are another suspicious thing one finds in the basement, what could be living in there, come in from the ground all hairy and scary. Basements sometimes are made to look like the rest of the house but always have dark corners anyways for the dark little creatures to gather and plot. Basements are always wet and smell of rot, no wonder it is hard not to run up the stairs as you leave feeling like you are being chased. I still can’t get up the basement steps fast enough.
One button. Two buttons. I exit the elevator only to enter the one beside me. One button for the basement floor. I reach to press it and think, Team Rocket will meet its demise soon.
last night my imaginary cat was stading in my basement and i saw it crawl up onto my banister. her name is sparks and sometimes she likes to go to great heights, and i mean literally. she often uses things like bannisters to get closer to the light so that she can capture the mini bugs.
My basement has been taken over by some unknown force.
It creeps around in the dead hours of the night.
It travels up the stairs only once a day or two to breathe some life back into itself.
Like a solar eclipse it’s a rare sight but a burning image if you look right at it.
I wonder if I’ll ever see my brother leave his game of COD before my life is over.
Video games. Time spent jamming with my brother. Instruments!!!! My childhood. It is cold as ice, but is warm in my heart. Red futons. Big TV!!! Fun times with friends. I love my Basement. Sleep overs!
so i was sitting in my basement huddling by the closet as the thunder struck outside. The weather had called for sever storms and my brother was beside me scared. I comforted him as i sat their hoping that every one was alright outside.
basement…it’s cold…reminds me of where my computer is…reminds me of all the times i’ve been on the old desktop talking to my “friends”…hmmm…the happiness…the sadness…the worries…all shared…but i guess now that that room has been moved around…it’s also like how my friends and my memories have moved…i wished i moved away.
Beneath the creeking joists and dripping pipes is a dark, damp room resembling the tomb of King Tut. It contains the furmace whos fire warms us. It stores the sundry dried goods and canned foods that won’t be cooked for a while. Its darkness is a welcome home to all sorts of spiders and vermin, yet is a comfortable place for me as well. It’s volume of earth was transformed into adobe blocks which rise from around the perimeter of this pit. Perhaps there are many secrets which do not manifest themselves without the lite of day. How many tears have been shed here, or how many kisses exchanged between the lips of lustful children as they explore the secret dark recesses of their souls. Perhaps many. Is there safety in the eeriness of this place? I think the basement affords the feeling of comfort, as it lies beneath the home that is so well known.
Maine, the new house. I was only six. My first time down the cement cracked stairs. The smell was musty and lingering. Ghosts lived down here, I was sure of it. Not frightened was I but intrigued. At the stories and life this old basement had been through.
I don’t like hanging out in my basement. There are a lot of creepy crawlers that emerge from the cracks sometimes. Especially under the heater-vent-things.
It’s also ridiculously cold down there. I guess it’s only good for the summer time.
Watch out bugs, I’m going to be armed with insect repellent/killer this summer.
I think about the things people dont always think oabout. itss seems to e some done have an open mind. I dont know how long its been.
I heard a clatter coming from the basement. As I muted the television, i stood slowly. Was there another family of rats down there or had something simply fallen. As I searched for protection for a potential rat attack, i heard the basement door click open. Upon realizing that I was the only one home and rats can not turn door handles, I panicked. What if this intruder was trying to rob me? Rape me? Kill me?
A basement is a very scary place. It is where all the fears of my childhood are housed. I can’t ever do down there because it is cold and dark with monsters lurking in every corner. The light never works and I fear the rickety stairs. Please do not ask me to go down there – I may never return.
Going down into the ground you never know what is to be found.
Is it your darkness full of fears? Enough to fill you up with tears or maybe a treasure full of delight that you can wonder at its sight.
I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of something in my basement. I had no idea what it was, or what it could be, I just knew it was there, I put on my slippers and crept down the hall to the doorway. I heard the noise again and slowly opened the door…
down under the house where the punk rock is coming out…loud and fast, rock n roll, give me the microphone i will sing some love songs
The lowest level of a house. Usually stores useless items. Often used in horror films. Terrified that spiders lurk in my own.
My eyes flit open. The first thing I notice is the smell, the rotting, musty smell. Then comes the damp feeling. From the stuffy, humid dark around me I conclude that I am in a basement. I walk around, feeling for a wall, blindly. I must get out.
I sat waiting for some time. Eventually the sun started to sink beneath the city skyline and the temperature dropped. It was a cold way to start the evening, but it would only get colder as the night took over from the day. After three hours I was freezing. My first night in the basement.
is the living place of the boys. i used to live in a basement and now i live incomplacent to everyones opinions but get awesome support from loving family and freinds
I live in my mothers basement. There is somebody for everybody? No this is a piece of writing, fiction if you will that someone that lives in their mothers base to give themselves hope to push until the next day…
I never really liked basements, i didn’t have any in the houses Ive ever lived in but i know my aunts and uncles have them in Utah, but they always freaked me out since they were like under the house and dark and creepy i felt like the whole house was going to fall on top of me if i stayed down there and the things was there were no windows! i was scared to ever go down there alone. i always thought that it would be cool to have like a whole basement as your room, like the ones where there is a kitchen attached and there are like three rooms! that would be cool.
The basement was dark, damp. The odor of burnt flesh, like sickly sweet chocolate grilled over a charcoal fire, filled the air. Walker could see the body in the corner, hidden in the shadows, away from the lone light bulb. He screwed his face up in anticipation. It wasn’t his first body, but it never got easier.
Use it as a safe-haven. But with instruments.
living down there wouldn’t be a problem. I’d prefer friends to be there.
To jam of course.
Let loose.
The more dim, the better.
I’d jam in it, personally. Even share it with another.
I think pairs when I think downstairs.
When I was a kid, me and my brothers loved our basement. It was like our sanctuary. All the happy memories from my childhood are locked up in that basement forever. It is now a part of someone else’s life, never to be seen by me again.
Don’t go in the basement. Whatever you do. Don’t go. If you do, the fungus and the mildew will get you. It will eat your lungs. It will suck your ears out. It will make you wish you had gotten that small timeshare condo in northern Alaska, where the igloos are impenetrable and hostile to microbial ife forms. Oh yeah, and fish poo.
Dark stairs, the bottom reached. Why didn’t I listen to what he said? Fear consumes me; my mind isn’t functioning. All I see is dark and my own demons. I’m facing them, but not by choice. Never by choice.
the basement is flooded. Jim is drowning, we dont know how it got this way, but we know that its all going to be ok tomorrow. we dont know what happened, but we know that somehow our feet will always be wet
My basement looks exactly like my grandfather’s. It’s large, with steep stairs leading down into it. It is so full of stuff that you can hardly move, let alone find a single pathway through the clutter. Mostly it’s composed of old gadgets that looked interesting at first but have turned out to be useless. Who knows why we keep them. There are old toys, too, memories left to collect dust but somehow still to precious to throw away. The cobwebs are everywhere, but you’ll never see a spider. They flee at the sound of the door…
i live in a basement in my residence. we barely get any sunlight and people pee in our windows if we leave them open. people watch me change if i leave the blinds open. welcome to university.
there will always be memories attached to my grandmothers basement, the slumber party virginia and i hosted as kids. the manequin scare on thanksgiving, and doing my laundry and chatting with my grandmother about life. yes, i did enjoy that particular basement.
the dark cold and dreary confinement in my grandmothers house, where the manequin and the cat lives. as a child i would have nightmares about two evil twin girls living under the basement stairs and the closet in the corner was always frightening. building blocks and having our slumber party will always be my fondest memory.
i was always afraid of the furnace that sat crouching in the corner of our unfinished basement. it beckoned to me, knobs and grill arranging themselves into a smirk, as if they knew i’d never have the courage to go over there and confront it myself.
the basement is the plae where many things can happen that involve creative powers. juices. flowing and for some reason underground. in the hiddneness away from the light. where no one can see hwat you are doing. the basement. the world where anything can happen as long as there is good ventiliation. the place that gets most dank. to the point of attracting spiders – espe
The dark scary place that no one wants to go. There are things down there, things that you keep hidden. Things that you want no one else to find. It can be metaphorical for your life and the things that you never want any one else to know about you. Your deep dark secrets…
dark and deep with stairs leading underneath and stairs that creek to the depths where all the secrets and loose ends are stored whose use is far outworn. Hidden in darkness with a light with a string ths
It was down in the basement that the accident occurred. Tripping over a tiny lego piece, then attempting ot doge a spider dangling in front of my yeses, I somuersaulted over the banister, landing hard on my feet.
in the dark depths of my mind the monsters weezed and hissed while the shadows danced across my face in the moon lit room. I found my broom and headed up.
isa scarey place, who knows what lurkes in the corners of the basement. Spiders, mice, rats, little mean creachers or maybe kindly brownies. Many people do laundry in the basement. Sumpumps are another suspicious thing one finds in the basement, what could be living in there, come in from the ground all hairy and scary. Basements sometimes are made to look like the rest of the house but always have dark corners anyways for the dark little creatures to gather and plot. Basements are always wet and smell of rot, no wonder it is hard not to run up the stairs as you leave feeling like you are being chased. I still can’t get up the basement steps fast enough.
I wanted to live six feet under.
This was the closest I could get.
One button. Two buttons. I exit the elevator only to enter the one beside me. One button for the basement floor. I reach to press it and think, Team Rocket will meet its demise soon.
last night my imaginary cat was stading in my basement and i saw it crawl up onto my banister. her name is sparks and sometimes she likes to go to great heights, and i mean literally. she often uses things like bannisters to get closer to the light so that she can capture the mini bugs.
My basement has been taken over by some unknown force.
It creeps around in the dead hours of the night.
It travels up the stairs only once a day or two to breathe some life back into itself.
Like a solar eclipse it’s a rare sight but a burning image if you look right at it.
I wonder if I’ll ever see my brother leave his game of COD before my life is over.
Video games. Time spent jamming with my brother. Instruments!!!! My childhood. It is cold as ice, but is warm in my heart. Red futons. Big TV!!! Fun times with friends. I love my Basement. Sleep overs!
so i was sitting in my basement huddling by the closet as the thunder struck outside. The weather had called for sever storms and my brother was beside me scared. I comforted him as i sat their hoping that every one was alright outside.
basement…it’s cold…reminds me of where my computer is…reminds me of all the times i’ve been on the old desktop talking to my “friends”…hmmm…the happiness…the sadness…the worries…all shared…but i guess now that that room has been moved around…it’s also like how my friends and my memories have moved…i wished i moved away.
Beneath the creeking joists and dripping pipes is a dark, damp room resembling the tomb of King Tut. It contains the furmace whos fire warms us. It stores the sundry dried goods and canned foods that won’t be cooked for a while. Its darkness is a welcome home to all sorts of spiders and vermin, yet is a comfortable place for me as well. It’s volume of earth was transformed into adobe blocks which rise from around the perimeter of this pit. Perhaps there are many secrets which do not manifest themselves without the lite of day. How many tears have been shed here, or how many kisses exchanged between the lips of lustful children as they explore the secret dark recesses of their souls. Perhaps many. Is there safety in the eeriness of this place? I think the basement affords the feeling of comfort, as it lies beneath the home that is so well known.
Maine, the new house. I was only six. My first time down the cement cracked stairs. The smell was musty and lingering. Ghosts lived down here, I was sure of it. Not frightened was I but intrigued. At the stories and life this old basement had been through.
I don’t like hanging out in my basement. There are a lot of creepy crawlers that emerge from the cracks sometimes. Especially under the heater-vent-things.
It’s also ridiculously cold down there. I guess it’s only good for the summer time.
Watch out bugs, I’m going to be armed with insect repellent/killer this summer.