The house vibrates with laughter, rocking the walls. Mom looks like she is about to lose it, so I place my hand over hers to calm her.

I’ve been researching on Google, trying to learn what we’re facing. The last thing we need is for her to add to its power again. What I gleaned didn’t give me warm, fuzzy feelings. Whoever built this place did it under mysterious circumstances. 

As in—there are no records of its construction. One day it wasn’t, and the next day it was. Plus, the foundation is older than the structure. This doesn’t make sense because there’s supposed to be a paper trail to the landowners. 

I keep this from Mom any of this because anything I say to her will tell ‘it’ as well. The less it knows what I’m doing or planning, the better for Mom and me. ‘It’ will try to stop us. So, I apply pressure to her hand and will her to look at me.

She finally does, left eyebrow rising, questioning.

“Before you got here, I was planning to investigate the basement. Do you want to check it out with me?” Pressing her hand tight, then loosening my grip, I continued, “Or stay up here in the kitchen?”

Her voice shakes when she answers, “I’m going with you. I can’t stay up here alone.” 

A weight lifts off my chest with her response. She gets the message.

“No, Mom, I don’t mind. My investigation will go faster with the two of us checking it out than by myself. Let’s finish our coffee first.” My nonchalance will lure the house into thinking I wasn’t looking to escape so that it would relax. 

If it thinks I plan to run with Mom to the basement and escape, the activity will increase, and I doubt Mom can handle another round of paranormal activity. So, the plan is to keep both house and Mom calm while I looked for a way to get out.

The coffee is hot and strong, the way I like it. I savor every sip. My mind races, thinking of ways to escape. Once I place the cups in the sink after we finish, I turn to Mom. “You ready?”

Her eyes, reflecting shock earlier, cleared and focused before nodding, and I stand up. I clasp her hand in mine and walk to the cupboard. Opening the doors, I pull two Kerosine lanterns out, followed by a box of matches. I light one and hand it to Mom, which she accepts hesitantly. “Is this necessary?”

I don’t know what to expect since I haven’t been downstairs yet, so I’m not taking any chances. Then, feeling a little naughty because I want to scare her, I reply, “I don’t know if it’s even wired down there, so the lamps are only a precaution. Unless you want to go wander down there in the dark, not able to see anything like spiders or rats.”

She shudders at the thought of insects and rats. Considering the situation, I admit I enjoy her discomfort about bugs a little more than appropriate.

“You ready?” I ask, holding back the threatening smile when she sends me a glare.

Holding the lantern high, I open the basement door and proceed down the steep stairs. Each step caves in a little from my weight and groans, but they hold. Down we go into total darkness – I feel Mom close behind as I survey our surroundings, moving the lantern even more upward. The dust and cobwebs make me think no one must have come down here in months or years.

A plaid sofa with brown and orange cross-sections stood in the middle of the room. There’s an ironing board off in the left corner and a coffee table against the far wall. To the right is an antique washer standing next to a deep cast iron sink. My hunch about the wiring is turning out to be true, even though it’s unusual for a builder to wire the house and not the basement. I search for the circuit breaker, and I find it hanging from a foundation wall. I cringe when I get a better look at it. Old knob and tube wiring that is in need of serious renovation. 

These fuses can’t handle the power the creature is pulling from the house. That makes me stop and think. The monster gets its power from the place, but if the box can’t handle the load, ‘it’ is not getting fed. It pulls people in to keep itself from dying—it needs to siphon energy to continue its existence.

Mr. Keith’s house is dying from hunger—ah, poor little house, but now how to use this information to get me and Mom out? I knew I was close; I feel it. This basement holds the clue, and I need to find it.

The monster can’t produce enough self-sustaining energy because of the outdated circuit board. That means something, but for the life of me, I can’t connect how. I continue to walk around and discover a pantry full of cans and jars. The amount of rust on the lids didn’t make me confident about how safe it is to eat the food.

At the moment, I’m not interested in making a last stand; I want a way out. There is a cellar with no apparent exit, yet, there had to be a way out if they built the foundation before the structure. “Come out…come out … wherever you are,” I mutter.

Ready to call it quits, I circle back to the room next door when a breeze of air smelling like the outdoors wafts past me. The breeze is from behind me. I turn to discover a small hole behind one of the shelves. I empty the rack and pull the much lighter frame away from the wall, revealing a door.

It has to be a mirage. 

My mind refuses to comprehend what my eyes are telling me. This is a door and our chance to escape; Mom came up next to me, “Open it, Ramon, come on, let’s get out of here,” the last a heartfelt plea, “Please.”

“Mom, hold it together a little longer, alright? Let’s make sure it’s safe to open the door.” She nods, and then I slowly pull the door open as quietly as possible to see daylight.  I put one foot out, then another, until I was outside.

I stand there gulping large breaths of fresh air and notice Mom is, too. We did it. Except, I will not let this house get away with all of the deaths it had caused.

Mom strides away from the house until she feels safe before returning. “Ramon, come on, let’s leave.”

I think of Kyle standing in the upstairs window, perpetually a kid, never escaping or going free for eternity. No, I can’t leave my brother in limbo inside a house that eats people. Then I remember the Kerosine and the black streaks on the wall.

 Of course! The other owners tried to burn this monstrosity down, but the foundation stayed. Not this time; everything is burning tonight.

“Mom, I’m going to burn it all down, so I need you to go out front, where I know you will be safe.”

“Ramon, I’m sorry I blamed you for everything, and I’m sorry I never told you how much I love you and how proud I am of the man you grew up to be.”

I feel the tears in my eyes, and if I don’t get a move on, mom’s apology will reduce me to blubbering mush, but I knew she wants to hear me say something similar. I still feel anger and resentment toward her, even though I thought I had gotten over it. 

Groaning, I turn back and hear myself say, “I’m sorry too, Mom, and I love you too.” A little gruff, “Now get out of here so I know you’re safe when I burn this sucker to the ground.” 

I ensure she is out of range, then I go inside and splash Kerosine everywhere. When enough was in the basement, I load my arms with as many cans as possible and went upstairs.

It is quiet, so I pour the accelerant on the furniture and walls. Once I complete the living and dining rooms and head upstairs, something slams into me, and I flew back downstairs. 

I hit the floor hard; the wind knocked me out of me as I sprawl on the ground groaning. Everything hurt, including my hair, and I saw a tall solid black form manifest at the top of the staircase. Red glowing eyes stare down at me, and I question my belief the house is causing the problems. This apparition is the real culprit, and I know I have to move – do something, but I can’t get my body to obey my commands.

Not looking away from whatever was glaring at me. I search for the matches with my fingers. It is grinning well; its lips stretched into an imitation of a grin. That is more a grimace than a grin, and I know the end is here because I can’t move to save myself. 

That is fine because it ends today; my fingers latch onto the box and I bring it to me. I quickly fumble for a match as the figure growls, rushing down the stairs at me. 

“Too late, Asshole,” I strike the match, and it flares to life before tossing it toward the Kerosine puddle.

It throws its head back, howling, trying to fight through the flames to attack me. The intense heat prevents him from reaching me, and as the building burns, streaks of sunlight shine through its body. 

The atmosphere feels lighter and lighter as the thing burns. Everything hurt, making it difficult for me to keep my eyes open, but I want to see the shadow thing burn. I smile with each shriek and scream until that fades, and I sink into darkness.

I don’t know how long I drift in Stygian black, but my eyes open to find myself in a hospital and Mom sitting beside me. Her eyes were misty looking.

My voice sounds like a frog. “I thought I told you to go to safety.”

It was a soft smile in response, “I did, sweetheart.” 

“Then how did I get out of the house?”

The tears fall then, but not the sad ones this time.

“Kyle,” she said as I lay frozen, feeling the chills running through my body. “It was Kyle.”