Real Encounters

*The Neighbor With Chains*

My first ever creepy experience occurred when I was about five or six years old. At the time, I lived in a cul de sac, so the streets were always pretty isolated and there was very little traffic. This meant that my parents were usually pretty comfortable with letting me go outside for short periods of time. After all, there was virtually no cars that drove past, so no dangerous strangers. They probably should have been more concerned with the neighbors than anything else.

One of my favorite neighbors was a really kind old man named Henry. He was in his 90's, and had a terrible, hacking cough. I only knew him for five or so years. He developed lung cancer and died, but my parents told me that he had simply moved away. His youngest son had found him dead in the basement. Now, basements had always creeped me out, but this one was terrifying. It was massive, with high walls, cold floors and unending darkness. It was a major source of childhood night terrors for me.

After Henry's death, his two sons decided to sell his house. It didn't take long for people to take interest in it, as it was a large house in a nice area. The house was eventually sold to a lady, her bedridden daughter, and a really old woman, who must have been the lady's mother. The lady's name was Carol, and my first impression of her was that she seemed pretty nice.

A couple of months passed, with Carol becoming good friends with my parents.

They obviously trusted her.

What a mistake that was.

One day, I was playing outside, when I heard Carols voice call to me across the street. She asked me if I wanted to come over and come play with her new puppy. I agreed, as I believed that the "stranger danger" rule didn't apply to neighbors. As soon as I walked through the doorway, a sense of uneasiness hit me like a bus. Her house was completely normal, but something was just off. She quickly, excitedly told me she wanted to show me her basement. I agreed, and followed her down the stairs that led into said basement.

Inside, there was a grimy wall with chains, handcuffs, ropes, and some sort of place where you might be able to secure someone to the wall. Carol then casually asked if I'd like to "get on the wall and play doctor" with her. I probably would've agreed, had I not been scared of basements, so I politely declined and ran back home. I didn't find the courage to tell my parents about Carol's wall of chains and almost "playing doctor" until almost a month later. My parents called the police and they started an investigation. When the cops finally got a search warrant and entered the house, there was a small boy chained to the wall, malnourished, bruised, and covered in bodily fluids. Carol was instantly arrested and sent to prison. It turned out that she had a history of child abuse and sexual harassment.

My parents now tell me how grateful they were that I was scared of basements.