Other monsters

When I was very young, back before my mom married my step dad, I spent a lot of time at my grandparents house. My mom worked and my grandparents babysat me in the summer and before and after school. They had a nice 1950’s era ranch style house, with a front porch and a detached two car garage. In addition, the house sat on a little over two and a half acres, a large portion of which my grandfather had turned into a vegetable garden and small orchard. I spent many a summer day out in that garden with my grandfather, or in the house with my grandmother. Or I might go see what my great aunt (who also lived there) was doing. Sometimes I would wander off on my own to play. But there was one place in that house where I had to exercise the utmost caution, especially at night. This was the basement. Most of it was unfinished, though there was a family or rec room on one side. In that room there was a sofa, some chairs, an air hockey table and a huge old cabinet style tube radio that didn’t work. I would play in there fairly often if it was cold or rainy outside. That is where I normally kept my dollhouse. Other things that were down there in the basement in the unfinished parts were canned goods, and a pencil sharpener, which was mounted to an exposed wall stud next to the chest freezer. As well as one room that held the washer, dryer, sink, water heater and the doorway out to the backyard.

A serious problem often arose when my grandmother was fixing dinner and she asked me to go downstairs and fetch a can or two of something. Or, if my colored pencils dulled and I needed to sharpen some of them. Especially if it was dark outside. The stairs themselves leading down into the cellar were of the open style, and in the dark there was only a black void behind my heels as I made my way down. Most of the canned goods were on shelves within this void as the stairwell light could not penetrate the inky darkness that lurked there. Therefore, the only way to shed any light in that area was to descend the stairs and then pull the string that dangled from the only light bulb in the laundry room. Needless to say I went down those stairs as fast as I could run! The less time I spend on the stairs was less time something had to seize my ankles. I grabbed what I came for and bolted back upstairs to the safety of the brightly lit kitchen. But what was worse was when I either had to sharpen a pencil or procure a jar of home canned vegetables. That necessitated a trip to the black hole…. Which was the other side of the basement containing the chest freezer, the home canned goods and the furnace. To get there, first I had to navigate the scary stairs, and then there was the gate that barred entrance to the black hole. To unlock it, I had to reach up over the top and fumble for the latch, which meant putting my hand into the darkness. Once that gate was open, the next challenge was to turn on the light. A single naked bulb barely sufficed to light the black hole, but I had to jump up and down to be able to grab the pull cord, as it was almost out of reach. One, two, three jumps – if I could not get a hold of it on the third try, I’d run back out into the light shaft of the stairwell and gather my nerves to try again. Finally, once I got that bulb burning, I’d run to whatever I had come for, pencil sharpener or a jar of tomatoes or green beans. The canned goods were a bit worse of a destination, as the shelves they were on were opposite of the furnace. The space behind and around the furnace was far beyond the event horizon of this basement dwelling black hole. And like its interstellar namesake, it seemed to suck the already feeble light deep down into it, to disappear forever. Once I had what I needed, I reversed those entrance procedures as quickly as I could and galloped back up stairs, sighing with relief. Whatever might have been lurking down there didn’t get me this time! It was as though I was a wildebeest that had just crossed a crocodile infested river without getting attacked.