The Basement
For 22 years I didn’t know what was in our basement. My father had always kept the door locked and my younger sister and I were always told never to go down there so we didn’t. We’d often hear noises like screams or groans coming from there too but as younger kids those were just kind of scary and helped push away any curiosity of what was down there. Our mom had passed away not long after my sister was born and Dad never remarried, there were plenty of women who would come and go but none of them ever committed to him. One summer I was home from college, I found myself in the house alone and spotted the basement key sitting on the kitchen counter, it was always on an over-sized red plastic …