Grey Matter

Every building has a basement if the foundations are in a city. Some basements are still maintained with high usage, some are left with barely working lighting and left to dust. Usually, those are closed off from the outside world with seldom a person venturing into their space.

Below my studio is such a basement. It is old and home to the HVAC system that needs to be replaced. If you don't have breathing problems before going in, you will as soon as you hit the steps down. Concrete dust lays on the floor. Locked doors hide secret spaces. It is hard to tell where the monsters dwell as the whole place is a wasteland of darkness.

A few of us ventured down one afternoon when we discovered the lock to the basement stairs was left unlocked. We were armed with only our loud merriment of adventure and the flashlights on our phones. The stairs leading down was a narrow trip to an open mouth of black. We laughed about not touching the walls because of the weird dark stains on them. That was our first missed hint to turn around.

Once we all made it to the foot, we surveyed the massive space we stood with the light of our cell phones. The potential that could be housed down there; electric kilns, electric furnace, classroom space. It would have been wonderful! 

One of the group walked ahead, admiring the long wooden rack made from 2x4's. It looked like someone had been sleeping there, an old cloth was folded where a head could rest. That was our second hint to get out immediately.

"A perfect place to store canvases!"

It didn't move when he tested its stability.

"Oh wow!"

We turned to look at the only untouched white wall in the room at the exclamation of someone else. A massive doorway was split in the cement brick. Another room a little bit smaller was waiting the other side. This one had 4 foot high built-in wooden shelving. It looked like an old machine shop was down here at some point in the building's history.

Hint number three stood out as bright as the daylight in the floor above us. In the back corner of this room, the light dared not venture. The closer we got, the colder the air pressure became. We tried to shine our lights on it, but seven flashlights would not break through the grey.

The biggest one of us suggested we all slowly back up and leave. It was time for us to go and not look back. He brought up the rear. I wasn't far ahead of him. We walked briskly through the cement doorway and nearly slammed into each other. On the wall that was once untouched, bright white, a grey handprint was slapped on the wall.

It didn't take long for us to run up the stairs. We made sure the door has been locked ever since that day and that there is always something is pushed in front of it. You know, just in case.