Behind the Staircase
A short horror story with an open ending
"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."
Supernatural Horror in Literature by H. P. Lovecraft
Clara’s son’s favorite red water bottle had dropped in a niche behind the staircase. The niche was at least two feet deep and it was pitch dark inside. She supposed it led to a narrow space under the staircase, which led to the opening for the landing between the basement and the first floor.
“Forget it, Mike!” she snapped. “The bottle is lost!”
“No!” her seven-year-old son’s voice was high-pitched like his father’s, and when the boy was angry or desperate, it reminded her of a shrill horn.
Mike was squirming like a worm under the light of a zoologist’s lens.
“Let’s go, Mike!”
“It’s my favorite red bottle! I’ll get it!”
“I know it’s your favorite red bottle, but you can’t get it! It’s too deep and too dark down there; who knows what thrash they’ve thrown under the staircase and…”
Clara didn’t finish. While she was talking, she had got a bit caught in her own words, as it would often happen, and her son had taken advantage of her distraction.
He had grabbed the railings and had jumped down there, down there in that dark hole where nothing could be seen and nothing could ever
survive
be taken out of.
“Mike!” Clara screamed. Her heart pounding in her chest, she bent over the railings. “What are you doing? Mike!”
‘I found it!’ she heard his excited voice. She saw the dim outlines of a hand brandishing a big water bottle like a magic sword. “I got my bottle, mom!”
Then he fell silent.
Then he spoke.
“How do I get out of here now?” this time his voice was less excited. Clara could imagine the furrows on his high forehead. She could imagine his pursed red lips.
She stretched out an arm, groping in the darkness below.
“Can you reach my arm, Mike? Hold out your hand and try to reach my arm! Jump if you need to! I’ll pull you out!”
The boy didn’t hold out his hand. Instead, he plunged under the staircase.
Clara heard horrible noises.
Wood falling.
Glass breaking.
Screams.
Her son’s screams.
Her own screams.
Universe’s screams.
Then she saw something crawling out on the landing between the basement and the first floor.
Staircases creep me out. I avoid them at night. I might be on to something.
This is such a vivid scene—“squirming like a worm under the light of a zoologist’s lens” was such a cool image. You really feel the emotion between Clara and Mike, especially over something as simple but meaningful as a red bottle. That last line cut off made me want to keep reading!