So the house I grew up in was/is really fucking old. Like, built in 1880 old. Because of this, the basement was unfinished and had totally concrete walls and floors, and it constantly smelled musty. There was this one area toward the back of it, but actually at the front of the house if you oriented yourself correctly, that was my dad’s work area. It had all sorts of neat stuff in it, stuff from when my Great Uncle Tony used to live there, but really, most of it was power tools.
I would sometimes go down there to explore. But it always made me uneasy. There was this one little alcove - for lack of a better term, off to the right side, that always remained a mystery to me. It was always difficult to find the light switch for my dad’s work area, but this alcove, it had no light switch. Whenever I got near the doorway of it I would become nervous. My imagination would race with all sorts of creatures that could be hiding in there. They featured in my nightmares quite often in the 13 years that I lived there. The hallway seemed to stretch forever into a winding labyrinth, twisting into itself in impossible ways. I don’t think I ever stepped foot in there.
At work I’ve had to traverse the narrow stairs (my feet barely fit on the steps) into the basement twice, and it has the same concrete and musty smell that I haven’t dealt with for a decade. There’s a door just off to the left of the stairway. It is the same as the little alcove.