The Secret of the Stairs

Normally this would be great, being able to wander around a big, old house with no one to say, ‘Don’t touch this’ or ‘Stay away from that.’ It should be foolish-cool. But this place feels way too creepy. Still, Aunt Enna did order me to take a tour, so I’d better poke around a little. I pause, trying to decide where to go. Across from the living room is the entrance hall with the front door. Rising up from that hall is a winding staircase.
“May as well start from the top and work my way down,” I whisper to no one. I square my shoulders, and slowly head for the stairs. As I climb I keep telling myself that besides Aunt Enna, Mom and her brothers, Uncle Billy and Uncle Wes, all grew up here. So regular human beings did live in this place once. The thick mahogany handrail feels cold under my hand and each stair creaks under my sneakers. I come to the landing at the top and see a series of doors with big brass knobs all closed.
I move towards the closest door. It moans as it opens. Inside I see a four-poster bed with a frilly comforter on it. There are lace curtains at the windows and on the walls, tiny red roses scattered across faded wallpaper.
“Maybe this was Mom’s old room,” I say out loud, my voice breaking the stillness. It is kinda girly-girl, which is Mom’s style, and completely unlike my room at home, where lace is banned.
Another daydream begins to wash over me. Strange. They usually don’t happen so close together. I close my eyes briefly, and then open them, as this room changes into what it must have been when Mom was here. I can see her right in front of me. She’s a young teen dressed in ‘80s style clothes, big teased hair on her head, sprawled across a bed listening to some old school music pounding from...what did they call that big square thing sitting on the dresser? Oh yeah, a boombox. She’s chatting on a funny phone with a curly cord coming out it. Suddenly, a noise jolts me out of the daydream before it can really start. What was that? I stand perfectly still. Okay, it’s nothing.
Then the noise starts again – a muffled ‘thump-thump’. I swallow hard and stay rooted in place. I can feel cold tingles run up my spine. Thump-thump. There it is again. Sounds like it’s coming from inside the wall. Is there some- thing—or someone in there? Thump-thump. Squealing in horror, I dash from the room with my heart pounding and race down the staircase as fast as I can. I can’t stay here! Old haunted houses with witchy aunts aren’t my thing! I’m gonna call Dad. But my phone’s in my backpack and that’s in the kitchen with her. Maybe there’s one of those last-century plug-in ones around.
I scan the hallway and see several doors. I rush over to one and open it. It’s a closet. I scoot over to another door and peek inside. It looks like a study, with book-lined shelves, a couch, deep-seated leather chairs and a small desk. There’s only one door left to check, since at the other end of the hall is the entrance. I scoot towards the final door and wrap my hand around the huge doorknob.
“Don’t go down there!” a husky voice yells out. I let out a little scream and spin around. It’s a boy; a tall, skinny boy. My knees start to rattle and my hands shake.
“You don’t wanna go down there,” the boy says. He has close-cropped hair, a milk chocolate face, a dirty blue shirt and jeans that look like they’re glued onto him. He has hazel eyes that might be kinda cute, if they weren’t glaring at me like I’d just stepped on his dog.
“ I – I was looking for a phone,” I manage to gulp.
“There’s no phone down there,” the boy tells me. “That’s the basement, and you can’t go down there. She wouldn’t want you to.”
“Wh...why not?” I stammer.
He pauses and leans forward, lowering his voice to a deep whisper.
“Because. There was a dead body down there. A man got killed in that basement.”