Whispers from the Basement

Warning. Something is living in our basement and it knows my name.

Three days ago I heard scratching behind the old furnace. Then whispers. My name repeated

over and over in a voice that sounded almost human but not quite right. The pitch was off.

Too many syllables. Last night I went down there with a flashlight. The scratching stopped

the second my foot hit the bottom step. Dead silence. Then I saw it pressed against the furnace

grate. Long fingers. Too many joints. Its eyes reflected my light but they

were facing the wrong direction. Sideways somehow. It smiled at me. Every tooth was

a needle. The door to the basement locks from the outside. I reinforced it