Tallulah Evelyn
Harper Keeper wasn’t supposed to go down to the basement. She knew that before she even set foot on the ladder. She wasn’t supposed to have the key. She knew that since she found it, hidden under grandfather’s pillow. She wasn’t supposed to open the door. She knew that since she was old enough to know anything.
“We are the Keepers,” her mother would always say, “We keep the door closed, no matter what.”
“But why?” Harper would ask.
“Because who knows what would come through if we didn’t.”
And yet, here she was. Everyone always said Harper was mature for her age. She didn’t have to listen to anyone; she could make her own decisions. She just wanted a peek, she just wanted to see. The door was warm, the door was welcoming. Harper wanted to open the door. She just wanted to see; what harm could it possibly do? She wasn’t bothered by the icy wind or the whispering in her ear. She paid no mind to the things she saw on the other side. The door was nice, the door was welcoming. She just wanted to see. She wanted to open the door.
Harper slammed the door shut, fumbling with her fingers to put the lock back on the chain. She stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over a pile of boxes. She steadied her breath as she stared at the door, once more locked behind iron chains. Once more kept closed.
It would be okay. Nothing came through. Maybe her mother was just making things up this whole time, maybe there was nothing on the other side afterall.
“Mom?” Harper asked.
“Yes dear?” Mother was hanging their laundry out on the line to dry.
“Why does the door have to stay shut?”
“Because who knows what would come through if it didn’t?”
“But what would happen if someone opened it? Just a little bit?”
“Is something the matter, Harper? Why are you talking like this?”
What would Mother say if she knew? Would she be mad? Don’t tell.
“No reason, I was just curious.”
There is nothing wrong with being curious.
“Don’t worry dear, nothing like that will ever happen. After all, we’re here. The door stays closed for as long as there are Keepers left to guard it.”
It started with grandfather, who died in his sleep the next day. He was getting old. They knew this was going to happen sooner or later.
“But he was so healthy!” Harper protested. “The doctor said he would live another ten years!”
“Sometimes, that’s just the way things go,” Father told her, leaning his axe against the splitting stump and resting a hand on her shoulder. “We were lucky to have him around for so long.”
“But Dad… But…”
“It’ll be okay, Harper. I promise.”
Harper Keeper did not like funerals in the family cemetery. The Keepers had lived in the same house for centuries, keeping the door closed for centuries. Their cemetery held dozens of graves, most of which had names that Harper didn’t even know. The names of Keepers from generations before.
As they were lowering Grandfather’s body, she wanted more than anything to leave, to be anywhere else… to be one specific place else. Would anyone stop her if she just walked off? Did it even matter?
The door called to her still. She could still hear the whisperings in her ear. A part of her wanted to get a better look through. Nothing got out the first time, right? What harm could she do?
Harper’s little brother sobbed into her, clutching to her clothes as if that would keep her from leaving too.
“It’ll be okay,” she promised. “I’ll stay here. I’ll never leave you, I promise.”
Harper Keeper awoke to the sound of thunder. How long had it been since the funeral? Days? Weeks? She was starting to lose track. Wind rattled against her window, howling as the storm grew worse overhead. She wouldn’t be able to sleep with all this racket, she might as well get up.
Everyone else would be asleep by now. That meant she could do whatever she wanted and nobody could catch her. She could go back down to the basement and—
“No.” She shook her head. “The door has to stay closed.”
The kitchen floor was cold against her bare feet. A part of her wanted to go back upstairs for her slippers, but not yet. There was something she had to do first.
She warmed up a glass of milk and took a big sip. That was much better, now she could finally get some sleep.
She stopped as she made her way down the hall. The hatch to the basement was right there. It couldn’t hurt anything just to go down there, right? Nobody would know and she didn’t have to open the door. She couldn’t open the door, even if she wanted to. She didn’t have the key.
She climbed silently down the ladder and stepped around the pile of dry bricks at the bottom. The door looked just like it did before. Rusted chains wrapped around it, with a big metal padlock keeping it closed. Something about the door called to her, it spoke to her in a way no one else could. She wanted to see what was on the other side, even if only for a second. She looked down at the golden key in her hand.
Harper gasped, dropping the key to the ground where it clattered noisily.
“How did I— When did I—”
It didn’t matter where she got it from, all that mattered was that the key was here now. All she had to do was use it.
She had no idea how much time she had spent down there, when the hatch started to creak open.
“Harper? What are you doing down there?”
The next morning, Harper Keeper’s brother was not in his bed.
Harper and her parents looked for him tirelessly, all through the day, but there was no trace of him to be found. They searched every nook and cranny of the house, from the basement to Grandfather’s room, where the golden key still resided. He was just gone.
“I got up in the middle of the night,” Harper admitted.
“You did? Did you see him anywhere?” Mother asked.
Don’t tell. If you tell her, bad things will happen.
“No. I just got some milk, then went back to my room. I’m sorry.”
Three days later, they found his body in the woods. By then, it had become a meal for the maggots. Nobody could tell what had happened to him.
Only three Keepers left.
“I can’t take it anymore.” Mother was on the brink of tears. “First your father and now this? I can’t lose anyone else.”
“You won’t have to,” Father promised her.
“But this place… doesn’t it feel like something’s changed? There’s something bad here, I can tell.”
“My dad was getting old and… well, kids get lost in those woods all the time, even when it isn’t storming. He must have snuck outside and—” Father couldn’t finish his sentence.
Harper didn’t dare make a noise. Even from the other side of the hatch, the smallest sound could give her away. If they found out, then she would end up alone, just like Brother.
“There are too many bad memories here.” Mother sniffled. “I can’t stay here, I can’t make Harper stay here. What if something else happens.”
“My family has guarded the door for generations, we can’t just leave. Nothing else will happen, I promise. This is just a series of horrible coincidences.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Harper Keeper wasn’t surprised when her father turned up dead.
“Come on Harper, Let’s go.” Mother led her by the arm.
“But our home, we can’t just leave!”
“We can’t stay here any longer. I boarded up the hatch, that’ll have to be enough.”
“But Mom!”
“That’s enough, Harper. We have to go.”
The motel room was dirty and it had a cracked window, held together by a strip of duct tape. It had one bed for Harper Keeper and Mother to share. All they had to do was try not to think about the bugs that might be crawling in it.
“There we go.” Mother sighed, putting their bags on the bed. “We’ll have a new start; just the two of us. It’ll be okay, Harper. Don’t worry.”
“But I am worried,” Harper protested.
Mother sat on the bed. “We’ll make it through this together, I promise.”
“Mom?” Harper’s voice quivered. “Do you ever hear voices?”
“What?”
“Like, in your head.”
“I— I’m so sorry, Harper. All of this must have taken such a toll on you. Do you want to talk about it?”
Don’t tell.
“I hear them sometimes. They tell me what to do… what to think.”
“You mean like your thoughts?” Mother asked.
Don’t tell her.
“No. It’s different. It’s… I dunno….” Harper opened her suitcase.
“Harper, why did you pack that?”
“Pack what?”
“I think I need to get you to a doctor. There should be a hospital nearby.”
Harper picked up the knife.
“What? No.”
“I really think you need to go to the doctor, Harper.”
Harper picked up the knife.
“I won’t do it!”
“Harper, please. Do it for me.”
Pick up the knife, Harper.
“I won’t!”
Then how come it’s already in your hand?
“Harper, what are you doing?” Mother took a step back.
Harper took a step forward.
“No! I won’t! You can’t make me!”
“Okay, you don’t have to go to a doctor. Just please put the knife down. You’re scaring me.”
I warned you bad things would happen if you told her. I warned you that you would be alone.
“I’m sorry! Stop, stop please!”
“Stop what, honey? Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”
Do it.
“I won’t!”
But you already have.
Harper Keeper looked down at her hands stained red with blood. Her entire body started to shake as she realized what she had done. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, she couldn’t do anything but keep staring.
“How could you?”
How could I? You’re the one holding the knife. You’re the one who opened the door.
“I— I didn’t do this! I wouldn’t!”
But you did, and now you’re alone. Now you’re the last one left.
“N— no.”
You know what you have to do.
“Why would I help you! After everything you’ve done!”
Because I’m the only one you have left. I’m the only one who could ever love you after what you’ve done.
Harper Keeper found the key under Grandfather’s pillow, exactly where she left it. She grabbed Father’s axe from inside the shed and tore down the boards that blocked the basement hatch. She used Mother’s knife to pry the creaky hatch open. She stepped around Brother’s bricks, still damp from when she used them last.
The basement looked just like it did before. The door seemed to hum with anticipation as she drew near.
“If I do this, promise me you won’t leave.”
I’ll never leave you, I promise.
“Okay.”
The chains clattered against the floor. Finally, she got to see what was on the other side.
Come in.
“Will it hurt?”
Only for a moment.
“Are you sure?”
Would I lie to you?
Harper turned back to look at the basement one last time.
“Last? What do you mean by la—”
The door slammed shut behind her. The chains rattled together as the lock clicked back into place.
And so the house was silent. There were no more Keepers, no fathers to chop wood or mothers to clean dishes. There were no brothers to play in the yard or sisters to watch from their room. Just the silent echo of a door that should never have been opened.
And somewhere deep beneath the house, I began to breathe.