EPISODE 11 — THE BASEMENT
1326 Words
“Run.”
Leah’s voice came from behind Nora.
But Nora couldn’t move.
The screaming from the basement had stopped.
Everything was silent.
Too silent.
Nora looked at Leah.
“Was that my mother?”
Leah nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then why did you tell me to run?”
“Because she’s not alone down there.”
A heavy sound came from behind the basement door.
THUD.
Nora stepped backward.
“What is it?”
Leah whispered:
“The thing that answers when nobody does.”
The door slowly opened.
Darkness filled the staircase.
Nora’s phone vibrated.
She looked down.
A message appeared.
COME DOWN.
Another appeared.
YOUR MOTHER IS WAITING.
Nora looked at Leah.
“She wants me to go.”
Leah shook her head.
“No. It wants you to go.”
Nora swallowed.
“How do we stop it?”
“We don’t.”
“Then what do we do?”
“Find the first phone.”
“What happens if we find it?”
Leah hesitated.
“We destroy it.”
They walked down the stairs.
Each step creaked beneath their feet.
The basement smelled of damp earth and something metallic.
Nora covered her nose.
“What’s that smell?”
Leah didn’t answer.
At the bottom, Nora saw chains hanging from the ceiling.
Old photographs covered the walls.
Hundreds of them.
Children.
Adults.
Families.
Some smiling.
Some crying.
Some with their faces scratched out.
Nora moved closer to one photograph.
A woman was standing outside the house.
She looked exactly like Nora’s mother.
Underneath it was a date.
1999.
Nora touched the photograph.
The woman turned her head.
Nora jumped back.
The photograph was moving.
Her mother looked directly at her.
“Nora…”
Nora froze.
“Mom?”
The photograph whispered:
“Don’t trust the girl.”
Nora looked at Leah.
“What girl?”
Her mother pointed.
At Leah.
Leah’s face went pale.
“No.”
The photograph changed.
Now it showed Leah standing beside the house.
She was thirteen.
Beside her stood the little girl with the red balloon.
Nora stared.
“You knew her.”
Leah nodded.
“I told you.”
“You never told me you met her.”
“I didn’t know who she was.”
The photograph changed again.
Leah was holding the little girl’s hand.
Then the image showed something else.
A third person stood behind them.
Nora’s mother.
Her face was terrified.
Nora whispered:
“What happened that night?”
Leah stepped away.
“I don’t remember.”
The photograph suddenly burned.
Leah screamed.
Nora grabbed her.
The flames disappeared.
A voice came from behind them.
“You remember.”
They turned.
The little girl stood in the corner.
No red balloon this time.
“What do you want?” Nora asked.
The girl looked at Leah.
“I want my sister.”
“Leah?”
The girl shook her head.
“No.”
She pointed toward the wall.
Nora followed her finger.
A photograph hung there.
It showed a baby.
The same baby from the third bassinet.
Underneath it was a name:
ELARA.
Nora whispered:
“Who is Elara?”
The little girl smiled.
“Me.”
Leah stepped backward.
“No.”
The girl looked at her.
“You promised.”
“I was a child.”
“You promised.”
“I was scared!”
“You promised to bring Nora.”
Leah started crying.
“I tried.”
The girl’s face became angry.
“You brought the wrong one.”
Nora’s stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
The girl pointed at Nora.
“She isn’t the second daughter.”
Nora stared.
“What?”
Leah whispered:
“Nora…”
The little girl continued.
“She is the third.”
Nora couldn’t speak.
The basement lights suddenly turned on.
A telephone sat in the center of the room.
Old.
Black.
Dusty.
The first phone.
Nora knew immediately.
“That is it.”
Leah grabbed her arm.
“Don’t touch it.”
“That’s why we’re here.”
“We don’t know what it does.”
“We know what it has done.”
Nora walked toward it.
The telephone rang.
Ring.
Nora stopped.
Leah whispered:
“Don’t answer.”
The ringing continued.
Nora looked at the receiver.
Then she heard her mother’s voice.
“Nora…”
She closed her eyes.
“Mom?”
“Please.”
Leah shook her head.
“It’s not her.”
Her mother’s voice came again.
“Sweetheart, I’m trapped.”
Nora reached for the receiver.
Leah grabbed her hand.
“No!”
Nora pulled away.
“My mother is down here.”
“She isn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw her.”
Nora stared.
“What?”
Leah’s face was covered in tears.
“I saw your mother die.”
Nora froze.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
“You said she disappeared.”
“I lied.”
Nora stepped toward her.
“What happened?”
Leah whispered:
“She tried to destroy the phone.”
“And?”
“It killed her.”
Nora stared at the telephone.
“Then why is she calling me?”
Leah shook her head.
“Because it has her voice.”
The phone rang again.
Then the voice changed.
It became Leah’s.
“Nor…”
Leah covered her ears.
“Don’t listen.”
The voice changed again.
Nora’s father.
“Nora.”
Then her own voice.
“Help me.”
Nora backed away.
The receiver lifted by itself.
A black cord twisted across the floor like a snake.
The voice whispered:
“You came back.”
Nora couldn’t breathe.
The little girl moved closer.
“Ask it where your mother is.”
Nora stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because it can’t lie.”
Leah shook her head.
“Don’t.”
Nora stepped toward the phone.
“Where is my mother?”
Silence.
Then:
“Under the house.”
Nora’s eyes widened.
“Is she alive?”
The telephone crackled.
“No.”
Nora’s heart broke.
“Did you kill her?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
Leah started crying.
Nora looked at the little girl.
“Why?”
The phone answered:
“She tried to save the wrong daughter.”
Nora’s blood ran cold.
“Which daughter?”
The receiver crackled.
Then a voice whispered:
“Leah.”
Leah froze.
The little girl smiled.
Nora turned toward her.
“Why did my mother die trying to save Leah?”
Leah shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
The telephone rang once.
Then the receiver whispered:
“She knew.”
Nora stared.
“Knew what?”
The voice answered:
“That Leah was already dead.”
Nora’s face went blank.
She looked at Leah.
Leah didn’t move.
“That’s not true.”
The telephone repeated:
“Leah was already dead.”
Nora stepped backward.
“No.”
Leah’s eyes filled with tears.
“Nor…”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Nora.”
“Stop.”
Leah reached for her.
Nora stepped away.
The little girl whispered:
“She died seven years ago.”
Nora shook her head.
“I’ve known her for years.”
“You’ve known what looks like her.”
Nora stared at Leah.
Leah slowly smiled.
Not the warm smile Nora knew.
Something colder.
Something empty.
“You finally remembered.”
Nora’s heart stopped.
“What?”
Leah’s eyes became completely black.
“I died.”
The lights went out.
Nora screamed.
When they came back on—
Leah was standing beside the telephone.
Her body was covered in blood.
The little girl was gone.
And behind Leah stood Nora’s mother.
Her face was pale.
Her throat was cut.
But she was smiling.
She looked at Nora and whispered:
“Don’t let Leah answer the phone.”
Leah slowly picked up the receiver.
And smiled.
“Too late.”
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