Short Horror Stories

Basement Horror Story

(718 words)

When my grandparents passed away, instead of my parents selling her house they just let me live in it instead, since I was of moving out age anyway. I just had to pay the taxes and monthly expenses. At first I really enjoyed living alone, given that I could have whoever I wanted over whenever I wanted. But it quickly go lonely being alone, so I got myself a two year old German Shepherd dog named Rocky. He was named after Rocky Balboa. Rocky's a very calm and gentle German Shepherd, he hardly ever barks, only when he feels threatened or if he's playing with another dog. I bought him a doggie bed the day after I adopted him and put it next to my bed . After I got Rocky I always left the bedroom door open so that he could go get water at night if he were thirsty. One night soon after I adopted Rocky I woke up to his barking coming from outside my room and down the hallway. I dizzily got out of bed to check what the hell he was barking at. I rubbed my eyes as I walked down the hallway and when I opened them I saw Rocky maniacally barking and clawing at the basement door. I didn't know what to do, usually I'd call my dad to deal with something like this but now it was on me and I was terrified. I had to ask myself if I wanted Rocky to go down there with me and I quickly realized there was no chance of me going down there alone. I opened the door ever so lightly, but it was enough for Rocky to push it open with his nose and run down the stairs. I flipped on the lights and followed close behind. Rocky was silent now, which I found a bit concerning. I looked around for him calling his name and then I saw him standing still with his tail between his legs looking up at something in an opposite corner of the room that was blocked by a wall. Rocky looked at me and his tail slightly raised as I approached him. I could now see what he was looking at. It was a closet door. Rocky's apparent bout of confidence was obviously short-lived and he seemed to be back to his common timid self. All that was passing through my mind at that moment was "do I dare open this closet door right now" and "who or what could be in there". I didn't know Rocky too well just yet, but I had a feeling he wouldn't attack whoever or whatever was in there. I'm still not sure whether I made the right move or not but instead of opening that closet door I took Rocky by the collar and walked with him back upstairs. He kept looking back at the corner of the basement until we got to the stairs. I shut the basement door and then dragged him back to my bedroom and shut the bedroom door. Then I went to the kitchen to call my dad. I had to call three times before he finally picked up in a groggy voice. I explained the situation and asked him what I should do. He said I should go back down there with a huge knife or some kind of  weapon and see what's in the closet. I told him I was too sacred to and somewhere deeper into that conversation with my dad, I realized the basement door was open. I put the phone down for a second to listen to what I felt were footsteps and I was right, loud and clear were footsteps heading towards the front door. I ran to my bedroom and told my dad. He told me to hang up the phone and call the cops and so I did. By the time the cops showed up though, whoever was in the house was obviously gone already. Unfortunately I left a large amount of cash down there by the bar. All of it was gone. The basement window was wide open so we found the method of entry pretty quickly, just turned out to be a break-in burglary when I happened to be home.