Prose: The Basement

Living in an apartment, I have always dreamed of exploring the basement in our community. 

In old apartment buildings, the basements are usually storages and parking lots. Sometimes, people also live down there. This particular basement in building two is used for bike parking. It has an entrance from the ground–a gradually descending tunnel, with a slope in the middle for bikes and stairs on both sides. To all the kids in the community, the tunnel seemed mysterious because its ceiling shed off sunlight and the basement lights were voice-activated and very insensitive. It was always dark inside, and the sound of the wind through the tunnel was not pleasant. 

As a kid who dreamed every day, I had a lot of experience with that tunnel. More than once in my dream some monsters came out of that basement through the tunnel, and more than once I saved myself by keeping at a  distance from the tunnel. In reality, however, I was curious but had never dared to walk down the stairs and see what was in there. The kids in the community have all climbed onto the top of the tunnel, but none of us have actually gone inside.

Our community is only composed of four apartment buildings in a circle, surrounding a little square lawn in the middle. It is small enough for every kid to know one another and remember their room numbers. Every night after dining, someone would go downstairs and call us one by one through door phones. We could have a lot of fun just playing games, but exploring the community in the dark was always an interesting activity to consider.

That was another ordinary night. We had just finished a round of “cops and robbers” – a chasing game, and we were resting on the lawn. It must have been some guy who sat near building two that first suggested exploring the basement, which was echoed by someone else. At first, I hesitated. I was afraid of darkness and the tunnel was already gloomy enough under daylight. I tried to persuade them to check it out tomorrow, before the sunset, but everyone else seemed resolved. One boy even said with a grin, “you’re not afraid, are you?”

That did it. Whether my curiosity–or something else–overcame the fear, I went with them, wondering what we would find and whether or not dreams were predictions of the future.

There was a light hanging from the ceiling at the entrance of the tunnel, lighting up the path a little. We peered into the tunnel. I could vaguely tell the stairs and the slope, and I could estimate where the slope met the wall on the far end, marking a turn to the basement. It was indeed darker than the morning hours, but it was also intriguing. We felt like we were the characters of adventure stories, and were on our quest to discover some unknown secrets.

The wind blew at our back and into the dark, rubbing the walls with a strange sound. The light swayed a little, and I consciously stepped away from the entrance.

It didn’t take us long to decide the order we were to enter in. The bigger kids just shrugged and walked in, while the younger and timid kids inching their way forward. I was not at the rear, but I made sure that whatever happened, I could get to the ground as fast as I could, another thing I learned from having nightmares. Our footsteps echoed in the tunnel, mixing with some conversations from time to time.

The kids in the front reached the wall first. The basement was on their left now. 

Someone stomped. Nothing happened, but the echoes got louder. 

Many feet stomped again. This time the lights picked up the sound and started working, followed by dozens of stamping sounds filling the tunnel. The lights in the basement were faint; the one closest to us was yellow, while the lights in the inner rooms were blue. There were many bikes, some looked old and dusty, some were piled up against the wall. The first room that appeared in front of us was already crowded with bikes, save for a path in the middle to walk through. The basement had a smell of concrete, which I surprisingly found not too bad.

We were all at the bottom of the stairs now and peeked into the basement, trying to see what was in the other rooms. After all, it wasn’t something unexpected, just a parking place. Disappointed, I looked around and saw a piece of darkness on the left.

“Hey, what’s over there…” I reached out a little to look over the other guys.

Just then, we heard something crack. It was from one of the inner rooms. We froze. In the silence, a series of footsteps came to our ears. Something was coming out.

Without hesitation, we turned around and ran out as fast as we could. I was not a good runner at that time, but I remembered being truly scared and was the third person to reach the exit. We returned to the lawn and kept some distance with the tunnel, our eyes locked on the entrance.

A middle-aged man came out. He stared at us, confused, as if asking if he did something wrong. Then he turned and entered apartment building two. After the door was shut, we all let out a huge wave of laughter. Some started making fun of how the others ran in a panic. One guy was complaining that someone pushed him on his way out. The strolling parents smiled at us as we quarreled noisily about who ran out last.

I have gone down two or three more times to the basement after that–in the daytime of course. The dark space on the left turned out to be a small space between two walls which has no light in it, and I assume it is filled with unused things.  The farthest I’ve ever gone is the middle of the first room in the basement, so I’ll never know how big it is or how many rooms it has. Perhaps it is better to keep it a mystery.