Scary Stories, Rituals, and Urban Legends

The man in my basement takes one step closer every week part 1

I couldn't help but laugh as I read the typo-ridden laundry list of absurd rules left on my doorstep. Obviously written by someone with too much free time. I had to give them props for creativity though:

He will begin in the furthest corner of your basement. If you see him, do not overreact. He may decide to move on.

If the intruder decides to stay, he will take one step closer each week.

Do not attempt to speak with him, hurt him, or get third parties involved.

Any violation of rule three generally results in several quick steps forward (Depending on severity of transgression.)

Barricading the doors is acceptable. This will slow him down, but the process will be very loud. (Difficult to sleep)

To others, the intruder will appear as a mannequin (or a rubber dummy, or a coat hanger etc.) Do NOT let guests near him.

The intruder will not move so long as you have guests in the house (Guests who actually want to be there) Once I had an old friend sleep on the couch for three months and the intruder didn't move a step.

You can leave the house, but NEVER sleep anywhere else. NEVER make plans to move (even browsing for houses online etc.) The importance of this rule cannot be understated

GENERAL NOTES: None of these rules are set in stone, the intruder seems to evolve and react depending on your actions. Personally, I recommend measuring the distance from him to the furthest corner of the house, calculate how long it will take him to reach you, set up your bedroom as far away as possible. (once established, do NOT move your bed, you must sleep there from now on.) Please note that sometimes he will leave his station and wander up into the house, do your best to ignore him (He will always return to the last place he left off.)

________

I stepped back inside, folded up the note and tucked it away. Having just moved in, my guess was some neighborhood kid was pranking me. Either way, it was preferable to getting toilet papered. I slumped back onto the living room couch and resumed watching the game.

Owning a place of my own had been my life's goal since 18. Now, after fifteen years of working, saving and taking on crippling debt, I finally had a house. A killer deal on a modest 1980 two story with a basement and a backyard swimming pool. The main floor was an open design, kitchen, living room and an entrance hallway that led to the upstairs. Upstairs was a short alcove with three doors, master bedroom, guest room and washroom. This house was the only thing in my lonely life I felt proud-

-Something caught the corner of my eye. Across the living room, in the front entrance hallway: the basement door was cracked open. A slit of pitch dark. Okay. I thought, turning back to the TV. Must've forgot to close it earlier. I shook it off and focused on the game. As much as I could. The cracked open door lurked in my peripheral all the while. The feeling of being watched crept over me.

"Fuck." I said. Finally pushing up from the couch, I strolled across the room, pulled the door the shut and strolled back. Embarrassed, I slumped into the couch and swung my feet up on the coffee table. Maybe that note was getting to me. Maybe whoever wrote it wasn't done messing with me yet. Maybe-

-KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

I almost jumped at the pounding on my front door. I muted the TV, got up and hauled over. When I opened the door, a smiling man greeted me. Five-foot-tall, round and wearing a bright green Hawaiian T-shirt with matching cargo shorts. He vaguely reminded me of the Batman's Penguin.

"Sir," he said, a forced smile plastered to his face.

"Hello..." I replied.

"I'm so sorry to bother you." He said, looking down at my shoes, Studying. "Someone's been leaving notes on the doorsteps out here and since you're new..." he looked up, glanced back over his shoulder, then back to me, "I just wanted to ...warn you."