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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/CallMeStarr on 2024-09-14 13:00:57+00:00.

It happened on July 5th. I’ll never forget that day, nor the hangover that came with it. My eyes were swollen, glistening red. My head felt like a Metallica concert. Ugh. Why did I stay out so late? Truth be told, it wasn’t my fault. It was Rowan’s fault. She’s my girlfriend. She wanted to party. Don’t judge her. Unlike me, Rowan is very smart. She studied Biology.

My boss, who’s also my uncle, made me work that morning so he could have the entire weekend off. Needless to say, I partied my face off the night before. It was Independence Day, for Christ’s sake. What did he expect?

Uncle Ray owns Brews & Wash, a laundromat which serves alcohol. It’s located in the old part of town, where the buildings are ramshackle and derelict. The clientele is, well, suspect at best. But for the most part, they don’t bother me much.

First off, I’d never been in the basement before. It’s Off Limits. Plus, I’ve never opened the store. That’s Ray’s job. But he gave me the keys, and told me not to do anything stupid. Now don’t get me wrong, it’s an easy job. Even an idiot like me can do it. Still, it would’ve been nice if Ray had warned me about the door.

The basement is where Ray keeps the beer. Judging from the empty fridge, we’d sold a tonne of beer the day before. Like, who does laundry on the 4th?

First thing I had to do was stock up the beer fridge, so I went downstairs to the basement. It’s a good thing I’m short, or dare I say: Vertically Challenged. I had to crouch. The basement has a low ceiling, the walls are dry-laid stone. It smelled like piss and mouse droppings. Cobwebs covering every inch of the mossy walls. Ugh, I hate old basements. There was only one light bulb, dangling vicariously at the bottom of the stairs. Probably not safe.

At the bottom of the stairs was a stack of empties with fruit flies zooming in and out of soggy cardboard boxes. As I searched the basement, looking for the beer, something scurried across my foot, causing me to jump and smash my head on the low-lying ceiling. It hurt like hell, lemme tell ya. The sooner I found the beer, the better. Already, the basement was giving me the heebie-jeebies.

I turned on my phone’s flashlight, and scanned the tight quarters. Mostly, the basement was filled with junk. Soap boxes galore. Several cases of beer were stacked against the furthest wall to my right, next to the broken mop bucket. I shoved my phone into my pocket and grabbed a case, then I scooted back towards the stairs, careful not to trip on anything.

I stopped.

There was a peculiar door hidden behind the stairs, roughly four-feet tall and covered in filth. Around the handle was a derelict sign declaring DO NOT ENTER! In the middle of the door, behind a curtain of cobwebs, was a human skull. It was painted, probably red, but it’s hard to tell. It was severely faded, ravaged from time. Just looking at it creeped me out. But the door held me prisoner. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. Attached was a sizable silver lock. Without knowing it, I was fumbling the key ring, and discovered a bazaar key shaped like a human skull. It looked extremely old. As old as the building, at least. I’ll bet that weird-looking key fits that lock.

For a moment, I stood stupidly, grappling with the key ring while balancing the beer, wondering about the DO NOT ENTER! sign.

BZZZZ.

Something buzzed, startling me. I sprang upstairs like a scared kid in a cheesy horror story.

Stupid phone. Rowan texted me, asking how I was feeling. Deeply embarrassed, I replied with a thumbs up and a series of hearts. I’ll send a proper message once I finish prepping the store. It was nearing nine o’clock, opening time. No more dilly-dallying.

Before putting my phone away, I texted Ray, asking about the strange door. Not surprisingly, Ray ignored my text. Probably still sleeping. Ray can be a jerk when he wants to be, let’s just say. But I didn’t care, I just wanted to get this shift over with so I could curl up next to Rowan and snuggle.

Fighting a sore head, I stocked the fridge, prepared the till, and did the paperwork. Ray is old, he still prefers paper over computers. Says it’s safer that way. Whatever, at least I’m getting paid extra for being here, I reminded myself. I could use the money.

I made myself a coffee, then switched the sign to OPEN, wondering who does laundry at this godforsaken hour. On this day, no less. Three cups of coffee and two restroom breaks later, I started getting antsy. My mind kept returning to the door with the DO NOT ENTER! sign. Since there were no customers, I could dash downstairs, open the door, and have a peek. I pondered this for the better part of an hour.

Still, no customers.

The key ring danced between my fingers, beckoning me, until finally, I submitted. Just a quick peek, I reminded myself.

If only I resisted. If only customers came. If only…

The stairs protested under my weight, creaking as I crept. The light from my phone made strange shadows, which skittered across the stone walls, like cockroaches. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, my heart suddenly stopped. The door was shimmering. The skull seemed alive, its empty eyes sizing me up. I fumbled the keys, dropping them. When I scooped them up, they were sticky and gross from the gooey floor, which probably hadn’t been cleaned in a hundred years.

The skull was taunting me, daring me to enter. It was pulsating. Breathing, perhaps. I knew this was impossible, that the darkness was hampering my better judgement, so I laughed, teasing myself. But damn, was I jittery.

Go on, I told myself. Can’t chicken out now. Just a peek. Maybe I’ll discover long-lost treasures. Classic baseball cards, perhaps. How cool is that? I wiped my sweaty brow, which made my face dirty. Every inch of the basement was filthy. Ugh. It’s now or never, I told myself, so before I could chicken out, I jammed the strange key into the silver lock. It clicked. The door swung over.

Thick fog wafted into the basement, which had a distinct smell, like rotten eggs. I gagged. Cautiously, crouched as low as possible, I poked my head inside the door. Just one peek, I reminded myself.

It was pitch dark, icy cold. Laggardly, I passed through the door. My heart was racing, sweat stinging my eyes. I snatched my phone and turned on the light. All I saw was fog. Disappointed, I shook my head, cursing my stupidity. Careful not to smash my head, I crept back upstairs, both relieved and disappointed.

Halfway upstairs, the door dinged. A customer! It was Maybelle, an elderly lady who does her laundry once a month. She’s nice enough. I watched her load the machines, then sit by the big bay window and start reading a paperback. She lives across the street, in an apartment complex. Once, when I asked her why she doesn’t use their facilities, she told me she liked getting out once and a while. Besides, she doesn’t trust their machines.

Panicking, I realized I hadn’t shut the basement door. Who knows what could crawl out of that tiny crevice? Cursing my existence and nursing a headache, I inched downstairs. Then I stopped. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing: Snow!

It rarely snows in my town even in the winter. But in July? In a basement? This made zero sense. The snow was wafting in from the half-opened door. My trembling hands found the key ring, while my eyes stared in bewilderment. I’d better shut the damned door before the entire basement fills with snow! I took one small step and slipped, smashing my head against the stairs. My entire body protested, especially my head, which already hurt.

Shivering and sore all over, I crawled towards the door, complaining the entire time, and slammed it shut. WOOSH. Immediately, the snowstorm ceased. When I shoved the key into the lock, however, nothing happened. The door wouldn’t lock, no matter how hard I tried. Again, I cursed myself. What on God’s green earth have I gotten myself into?

That’s when I noticed the skull. It was grinning. For a moment, I stared, mesmerized. It’s not every day you find a skull-clad door grinning back at you with a DO NOT ENTER! sign. When I jammed the key into the lock – this oughta do it! – the door spat it out. Not to be deterred, I dropped to my knees, grateful I’d worn jeans, and searched through the fresh layer of snow, but I couldn’t find the key. I went for my phone, and I dropped it too. Frustration was getting the best of me. Losing a key was one thing. My phone on the other hand…

Bewildered, I swept my hands across the icy floor until I found my phone, which was lying on top of the key. I grabbed both, then bolted upstairs. I could care less about locking the stupid door. Whatever was down there was Ray’s responsibility. Not mine.

Standing behind the counter, pretending to be busy, I fidgeted with my phone, hoping it was okay. It wasn’t. None of the apps seemed to work. Great, like I needed this. I did nothing for an hour except pout, while Maybelle neatly folded her laundry. Moments after she left, a middle-aged man entered, asking about the beer prices. When I responded, he left, shaking his head, grumbling.

As soon as the place emptied, I started shivering. It was getting colder by the minute. Automatically, I reached for my phone, and tried texting Ray again. Of course, my phone wouldn’t work. Worse, my screensaver was now a skull. Same skull as on the door. It was laughing at me.

Anger fueled my next decision. I may not be the most intimidating guy…

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