A wealthy benefactor gifted a house to a mother of many children. When she entered, the woman found a note on the table and froze in terror upon reading those words…
Suddenly, early in the morning, John Smith appeared, waving some keys and shouting: “Get ready, Tanya, and call the kids! Today is your celebration!”
The children were equally astonished. Seeing the most important man in town shouting throughout the house was unprecedented.
They had never seen him so enthusiastic. But today, he seemed unstoppable. “Come on, don’t just stand there; soon you’ll be moving into a new house!”
When they arrived in front of a large and luxurious house, solemn words were heard: “Welcome to your new home! From now on, it’s yours! The paperwork is almost ready!”
Tanya couldn’t believe her eyes. “But how is this possible? Mr. Smith, I just recently appeared on television!”
Shrugging, he replied: “A benefactor came forward and bought this house for you. By the way, he’s supposed to arrive soon!”
When Tanya entered, she immediately noticed a note on the kitchen table, containing just a few words…
“Never go down into the basement. No matter what happens.”
Tanya stood frozen, her trembling hand still clutching the edge of the note. Her eyes were fixed on the eight words, written in heavy ink, large letters seemingly scratched onto the paper. A cold shiver ran down her spine.
The children were running through the bright rooms, excited, unaware of anything amiss. Little Eli was shouting from the upstairs room that he wanted the bed by the window, while the two girls were already arguing over the closets.
Summoning courage, Tanya took a deep breath. She then took the note and slipped it into her pocket, hiding it from the children’s view. Perhaps it was a bad joke. Maybe someone had left the note there from another context.
Still, something about the way it was written—quickly, chaotically, as if penned in haste—made her feel it wasn’t a joke.
In the following days, life seemed to settle into a peaceful routine. The children went to school happily, the house was warm, bright, and neighbors visited daily with gifts and smiles. No one asked about the mysterious benefactor, as if everyone accepted the miracle without questioning.
But on the fifth night, Tanya was awakened by a strange noise. A muffled rumble, like chains dragging on cement, echoed from deep below. She started. The sound was coming from below. From the basement.
She rose slowly, passed by the children’s rooms, where they all slept soundly, and descended into the kitchen. The floor was cold. The basement door was closed, but a cold, unnatural draft seeped from behind it.
She approached. Pressed her ear against it. Nothing. And yet, her instincts screamed to turn back. She remembered the words from the note. Never go down into the basement.
But what could be down there? It was her house now, wasn’t it?
The next day, when she told her neighbor about the noise, the woman’s face suddenly darkened.
“The basement?” she asked quietly. “I don’t think it’s wise to meddle with such things, Tanya. The people who lived there before… they didn’t stay long.”
“What do you mean?” Tanya asked, straightening her back.
“The house was sold four times in five years. Always to young families, with children. And they all left unexpectedly. Without taking their belongings.”
Tanya felt her knees weaken. What had she done? What kind of gift had she received?
That night, the noises returned. Louder. More insistent. The children began having nightmares. The eldest daughter said she saw a woman standing on the basement stairs, wearing an old dress and hollow eyes.
On the seventh day, Tanya made a decision. She called a priest. When he arrived and entered the house, he suddenly stopped in the doorway, looking toward the basement.
“Who gave you this house?” he asked, without greeting her.
Tanya shrugged. “A benefactor. I don’t know who, Father. He just told us it was a gift.”
The priest frowned. “It’s not a gift. It’s a pact.”
His words fell like a sword.
“What kind of pact?” Tanya asked.
“Someone needed to live here. Someone with a pure soul. With children. With ties that would attract… something else. And you were chosen. As an offering.”
That evening, Tanya gathered her children and, without looking back, left the house. Without clothes. Without documents. Without locking the door.
The basement remained there. With whatever was inside. With the whispers. With the chains.
But on the kitchen table, in the moonlight, a new note lay untouched.
“Next time… don’t run.”
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