The Laundry Room Under the House

The house was a relic of a bygone era, a weatherboard cottage perched on stilts above the flood-prone flats of the Tasmanian midlands. It had a certain charm, with its corrugated iron roof and the smell of eucalyptus that clung to everything. Lara and her partner, Ben, had moved there from the city, seeking a slower pace and a place for their two border collies, Rex and Nell, to run wild.

They found it idyllic at first. The long, dusty track to the nearest town wound past paddocks dotted with sheep and the occasional wedge-tailed eagle circling overhead. The neighbors were few and far between, but always waved as they drove by. The house itself was a blessing: high-ceilinged, cool in the summer, with a wraparound veranda that caught the afternoon breeze.

But there was one place Lara couldn’t shake off her unease: the laundry. It was located underneath the house, in the open space between the stilts, enclosed with palings and smelling of damp concrete and mildew. To reach it, you had to go down a rickety set of wooden steps that creaked underfoot, and the light switch was at the bottom, so you had to descend into the gloom before you could illuminate the space.

Lara found herself making excuses not to go down there. She’d leave the laundry until Ben was home, or she’d just hang clothes on the line outside instead. The smell was the first thing she noticed–a musty, earthy odor, not unlike rotting vegetation, but with a chemical undertone that made her eyes water. ‘It’s just the damp,’ Ben would say, but Lara wasn’t convinced.

The dogs, usually energetic and eager, would hesitate at the top of the steps. They’d whine and pace, only going down when they absolutely had to, and then they’d do their business quickly and bolt back up. At night, they’d sleep in their baskets in the laundry, as was their habit, but Lara would hear them whimpering in the small hours, and sometimes a low, guttural growl that made her hair stand on end.

One evening, Ben was away on business, leaving Lara alone with the dogs. She decided to tackle the laundry, to air it out and maybe clean it to get rid of the smell. Armed with a bucket of hot soapy water and a scrub brush, she descended the steps, her heart thumping. The light flickered on, illuminating a scene of cobwebs and dust. She started scrubbing the walls, and as she did, she noticed something odd: a small, recessed panel behind the washing machine, almost invisible against the wooden slats.

Curious, she pried it open. Inside was a gap in the foundation, a hollow space that seemed to extend deep into the earth. A cold draft rushed out, carrying the smell of something ancient and damp. In the dust on the floor of this hidden cavity, she saw what looked like footprints–small, bare footprints, like those of a child, leading into the darkness. Her blood ran cold.

She backed away, her breath catching. She turned to leave, but the door at the top of the steps was closed, and the steps themselves seemed to have lengthened, twisted, become more like a ladder into a pit. The flashlight in her phone died, plunging her into darkness. She heard a scurrying sound, and then a soft, cooing voice, like a child’s, but warped and hollow. ‘Play with me,’ it seemed to say.

Rex and Nell began to bark frantically from above, their paws scrabbling at the closed door. Lara’s heart raced. She stumbled forward, feeling along the cold walls, but they seemed to move, to grow closer, and the opening above was now a dim, distant speck. The cooing grew louder, more insistent, and she felt a cold hand grasp her ankle.

She screamed and kicked, and then she was falling, tumbling down a long, dark chute, and then she landed with a thud on the dusty floor of the laundry, the light still on, the panel closed, the smell as strong as ever. Ben found her there an hour later, shivering, her eyes wide, and the dogs howling at the door. She never went down there again, and they left soon after, but to this day, she dreams of that cold hand, and the whispered words that promised to keep her company forever.”/