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Hello everyone and welcome to our brand new paranormal prompt! This week, we're featuring a word prompt. Remember that you can interpret it as literally or as figuratively as you want, provided that there is a clear link between your entry and the prompt provided. You're also free to use any of our prompts in your own writing - be it to incorporate it in an existing story or to start a brand new one. For more information, check out our guidelines below!
WORD PROMPT:
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WINNERS:
Please note that winners are not listed in any specific order. You can read the rest of the amazing entries in the comments section below!
Ever since I was a little boy, there was only one rule in my father's household: to never, ever go into the basement at night. I hated that rule. It made me curious, and the more curious I became, the more I wanted to enter the forbidden lair below the house whenever the sun died and the stars descended.
One day, surrounded by the tin soldiers I had long gotten bored of, I decided to break that rule. My itch to know about the basement's nighttime secrets had finally overcome me, and my father's words would now fall upon deaf ears.
Gathering my metal baseball bat---just in case---I crept down, down the stairs, down to the little door under them, down the tiny steps that resided beneath. It was dark, and I knew my parents were asleep. My father, with his bristling beard and terrible temper, would not be awake to make sure his rules stayed unbroken.
Of course, I'd seen the oakwood door that opened to the basement many times before, but in the glow of my only light---the creaky lamp that swung above it, it seemed so much larger. The shadows cast over it by the lamp's yellow glow seemed to beckon to me with their dark claws.
I turned the knob, bat in hand. It was unlocked.
It took a moment for my eyes to get used to the gloom, but I finally realised that the pulsing blob of white light in the centre had limbs---and a face. I drew closer, close enough to make out shackled limbs, terrified features, and blonde hair. It was a boy--- no older than me, his wrists manacled, eyes pleading, and mouth gagged. He was glowing, lighting up the dark like a beacon that would not have shone as brightly if it had been day.
Then I saw it: the blood that splattered his back, two deep incisions streaking across the bare skin. And I realised the ugly truth: I was not allowed to go into the basement at night, for in the day, sunlight would mask his light. But in the dark, the boy could not hide his glow.
For my father kept angels in the basement, and he cut off their wings.
Our big, few centuries old family house was on top of a hill that towered over a small town by the sea. The town was almost dead, most of its population being old people. I respected my father's decision to stay here, but I didn't understand why he didn't let me leave. I wanted to see the world, not be stuck here forever.
I walked down the spacious, empty hallway. Father left the house earlier this evening due to his meeting with an old friend. Again, he warned me to not go in the basement under any circumstances. He's been doing that since mother left us 14 years ago. He'd give me the keys whenever he had to leave and say I had to keep them somewhere safe. I was a good kid. I listened to him every time. But now, I allowed curiosity to tickle my brain.
I'm 21, I'm not a kid anymore. Why not take a peek? Taking a big, rusty key from my pocket, I made my way to the door that lead into the basement. I pushed the key in the keyhole and twisted it until I heard a click. The door opened on its own, slowly, with a creak. Darkness, that's all I saw. Cold and somehow too thick to breathe. Suddenly, I got a bad feelings in my gut. I reached for the knob, ready to close the door. I couldn't, it was stuck.
''Opened...Finally opened!'' I could hear hissing that made my blood turn to ice. It was distant but it sounded like it was getting closer. My hand trembled. I pulled the door again. Nothing.
''Guileless son... Loyalty...Loyalty only to me!''
It was a song. A beautiful, spine-chilling voice mixed with the hissing.
''No...no...'' I keep pulling as more haunting voices joined together. Out of nowhere, a big hand curled around mine and pulled the door, slamming it shut before quickly turning the key. I turned to see angry face of my father.
''Father, what-'' He slapped me.
''I told you to never open the door! You almost opened the Gate between our worlds, son!''
''I-''
''Our family has guarded the Gate for centuries, and you-''
My mom and my brother disappeared when I was young. I was never taught any manners, living my life like a thug, smoking weeds, drinking vodka with the college fellas when I turned 12. My dad, he grew tired of me, left me, let me be as I wanted to be. He just provided me with a place to live, food to eat, and fees for my school (which I always bunked). He used to call me a spoilt brute, but I never gave a damn. I still remember he told me to never go to the basement when I was 6. But now is my chance. I told the fellas about it and they pressurized me to go in.
I picked the lock, and with a torch in my hand, I entered the pit black stairway. I turned on the torch and went down, the darkness quietly engulfing on the light. As I reached the bottom, I saw a shadow move and flashed my torch all around the room just to discover some old wax mannequins. They looked realistic, nevertheless, they sure did send chills down my spine. The door closed with a thud. I bet it was the college boys. As I turned back, and started walking upstairs to escape from those creepy mannequins, I felt a hand on my shoulders. I turned back, but it was too late to scream...
Father's POV
Got rid of that spoilt brute, thankfully. I can see the entire lot in the basement through the hidden CCTV camera, those lovely mannequins. Got to transport them to France, will earn quite a lot of cash, not like these people will ever be reported missing by me. 'Cause they are my family...
