The front door let me into a small, dingy hallway.

​

I quickly discovered that the inside of the house was more decrepit than the outside. I saw a small table and a coat stand; both were beyond dusty – they were thick with pale brown filth. Webs hung from the arms of the coat stand to form a repulsive decoration; other silken constructions adorned the open doorways ahead and left and right of me. A glance left showed a darkened living room: once a showpiece of plush furnishings and modern conveniences; now a dismal, dirty hovel. The room on my right might have been a dining room, but again a pleasant space had deteriorated horribly.

​

Tom’s house stank too. It was not merely a smell of dirt. There was a damp clamminess to the atmosphere – dammit, I had to tense myself so I didn’t shiver in there – and some kind of nauseating decay. I’d once come home from a two week holiday to find the fridge broken and the contents spoiled: the smell here was ten times as potent. One of the reasons came to my attention via the light through the door’s windowpane... Black mould had grown across the corners of the small hallway, and this was slowly oozing down through the once-chic wallpaper of the room.

​

“This place is a bloody health hazard...” I hissed under my breath. “What the heck are you doing here, Tom? And why are you down in the basement?”

​

My eyes grew accustomed to the midnight gloom. When I looked down, I found the carpet was hidden by a layer of collected filth. Oddly, a set of footprints led from the doorway deeper into the house.

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In a horror movie, the person in my position – usually a voluptuous cheerleader – would proceed into the darkened lair without looking for a light switch... Often while I’m snarling “Turn the lights on, you damn fool!” at the TV screen... I was neither so brave nor so stupid. I squinted, found a wall switch and tried it. The hall light overhead sparked to life for an instant, fizzled and died. It occurred to me that I’d seen that happen in a movie too.

​

“Great.”

​

I followed the footprints through into a larger hallway, which was as dark as a tomb. When I found another light switch and tried it, I got no reaction at all. Withdrawing my mobile phone, I activated its torchlight app. A few seconds of arcing the bright beam around and I was wishing for darkness again.

​

The second hall was about a dozen feet wide and at least ten across. Stairs ran along the right hand wall to the upper level; a doorway beneath the stairs led into some kind of office-space – dark, dirty and criss-crossed by enormous webs. Another door stood open in the wall opposite me, leading through to a kitchen at the back of the house. I could make out a sink and a cooker amongst ominous shadows.

​

My apprehension about what the other rooms might hold was minor compared to my disgust at my findings in the main hallway. The left hand wall of the room had originally been home for a pair of glass units – the kind a collector might keep their prized possessions in – and a huge rubber plant. I couldn’t see what the units held due to the thickness of filth on the glass panes. And the plant was draped dead across the floor, half-smothered in dust. Some kind of insects scrambled between the tentacle-like limbs of the rotting plant.

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Worse was what lay near the door to the office: two empty feeding bowls and a long-dead cat. The animal was shrunken-in upon itself, as if partially mummified. I was lucky that the strong smells of the rest of the house obscured the odour of decay from the cat.

​

“Oh my God... Tom, how long did you leave the poor thing? Did it starve to death while you were down in the basement..?”

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The footprints continued through the dirt into the kitchen. No other prints existed. Even the stairs were thick with dirt, showing no one had gone up there for... a long, long time.

​

My natural instincts for survival were screaming for me to leave the house. Get out. Call the police, have them investigate. I’m not one of those people who can get drawn-in by curiosity – I had no desire to explore further... But the thought of Tom, needing me downstairs, made me cross the hallway and step inside the kitchen.

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Two things occurred to me on the way.

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First, the footprints were at least as large as my own feet. Strange – because Tom was smaller than me... And if the person who had walked through here wasn’t him, who else could it have been? And were they still here – which was suggested by the lack of prints leading back out?

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Second, I was following the prints. Yet, why? There was nothing to suggest they would really lead to my destination. I just had a feeling that following them was what I should do...

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I called out “Tom!” when I reached the doorway.

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No reply came.

 

*     *     *

 

I used my left arm to slash at the spider webs in my path. My light roamed around the new chamber, touching momentarily on details...

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A pile of plates, cups and pans in the sink, now swathed in black mould.

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Black stains running up the closed curtains...

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The silhouettes of mushrooms along a window ledge...

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Some kind of dark sludge oozing from the bottom of the dead refrigerator...

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How could a modern house get so damp and mouldy so fast? Was it in any way natural? And what state would Tom be in after living under such conditions..?

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At a movement to my left, I snap-shifted the light beam to find a four-inch long spider running up the doorframe. My torch cast its shadow onto the furthest wall, expanding its size to almost dinosaur-proportions.

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Under the sinister shadow, the footprints led to a recess in the wall and a door there. It looked like the right location for a basement entrance. I crept past the spidersaurus and soon had my fingers around the grimy handle.

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I turned the handle and pushed the door forwards. My light revealed bare stone stairs going down towards a brighter source of illumination.

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“Tom?” I yelled. “Are you down there..?”

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“Yeah, Steve... Come on down, will you?”

​