Hurry. Turn off the lights, take the stairs two at a time, propel yourself up with the railing -- don't even think about looking back. Hurry. Hands are clammy, heart is racing, mind is spinning. Hurry. Can't simply run, must dash side to side and hop and skip -- got to avoid the hungry hands of creatures that grope for the stairs behind you. At the landing, half run half walk through the kitchen to the dining room, where you finally breath a sigh of relief.

Ten years later. Hurry still. Turn off the lights, thunder up the stairs, let your feet be a stampede that drives the hungry hands of creatures back into the shadows. Hurry still. Heart is racing, mind is spinning -- don't even think about looking back. Hurry still. Bound side to side, like a skier, avoid the hungry hands of the most daring creatures. From the safety of the kitchen, turn and smile defiantly at the darkness you once again escaped.

Nothing is particularly frightening about the basement itself: white plaster walls, rough navy blue carpet, worn out leather furniture, dusty workout equipment. Plenty of ones childhood could be spent down there, whether it be tumbling off of Little Tikes play sets, dressing up dolls, or watching a movie. But when ascending the stairs, beware.