Scary Stories, Rituals, and Urban Legends

The man in my basement takes one step closer every week part 2

I stood at the living room window, waiting. Finally, the garbage truck pulled up to the curb and a heavy-set man in a bright orange vis-vest stepped off the back. He spat dryly onto the pavement and hoisted my garbage into the back-compactor. Climbing onto the truck, he unceremoniously tossed the aluminum bucket back onto the road. My sense of relief vanished-

-Inside the bucket was a foot-long splinter. A lingering remnant of the coat-rack. Bursting out through the front door I yelled after them. The truck lurched to a grudging stop. Blood rushed into my face as I forced a smiled, embarrassed. I strode across the yard, bent over, reached into the can, grabbed the splinter of wood and tossed it into the truck. The heavy-set man blinked disinterest as they drove off towards the next house. The truck's compactor pressed down with a satisfying crunch.

Goodbye Coat-rack.

There was strange comfort in it, as though the coat-rack held some special power. A special power which, upon its destruction, had lifted. Strolling back toward the house, I caught myself smiling, humming. Almost feeling happy. I wrapped my hand around the front doorknob and- a sharp pain shot up my wrist. My hand swung back like an electric shock. Gritting my teeth, I turned my palm around. A splinter about the size of a blood-test needle was lodged in between my thumb and pointer finger. I breathed in, yanked it out, exhaled and tossed it back over my shoulder. I stepped inside.

When I pulled the door shut, red smeared across the brass knob. I turned over my hand again- A thin line of blood trailed out from the puncture-hole, snaking down towards the tip of my thumb. Wrapping my other hand around the 'wound', I marched back towards the kitchen.

The bandages were in a tray on top of the fridge. I pulled them down and wrapped my hand up. Turning around I leaned my back against the fridge, marveling at how quick my good mood soured. All it took was a wooden splinter. At that point, another thought crept into my head. Part of me, the paranoid, irrational part, wanted to go back and find the splinter, take it out past city limits and burn it. I actually had to fight the urge to go back and do this. It's a coat-rack, I reminded myself.

Either way, I took comfort in the new security systems. Motion camera's outside, alarms on every door and window. Big stickers advertising the system to any would-be intruders. I even checked every corner of the house just to ensure nobody was hiding inside. Looking back, I still hadn't fully processed the fact that somebody took the time and effort to sneak into my house and set a coat rack in the basement corner. Not steal anything, not even move anything, just set a coat rack in the basement corner. The fact lodged into the back of mind like a stubborn popcorn shell stuck between teeth.

Hunched over my laptop at the kitchen table, I took a sip of bitter black coffee. Thanks to the pandemic, all work was homework now. That was fine by me. I always preferred staying at home to just about anything else anyways. Typing away furiously, I was finally falling into that ever elusive zen state of work. Coding line after line until-

-My cell phone buzzed against the plastic vinyl tabletop. Unknown number. I reached over and froze. Something told me not to answer it, something told me to block the number. I shook it off and answered regardless.

"Brandon Miller" Said the voice on the other end. I couldn't tell if it was question or a statement.

"...Speaking."

"I'm calling about the note," he continued. He sounded young, early twenties maybe. "The one on your doorstep."

"...Okay."

"Yeah, I was the one who left it there."

I didn't respond, I didn't know how to respond.

"Look. I know it's weird, trust me, I know better than most. The thing here is to make sure you understand what's going on. To make you to take it seriously. Does that make sense?"