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Curtis thought the scariest thing in his house was the basement,
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the cold floor, the flickering bulb, the rotting little shed
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in the corner. But when he learns that shed hides
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a tunnel beneath the house, fear becomes curiosity, and curiosity
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becomes a mistake.
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What's that You want to be scared? Come with me.
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He will experience tales over our roam, ghosts, and death.
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He does not recommended for the We get hard heart
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listeners in the dark. It's more fun at that way.
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This is weakly speaking.
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Hello, my spooky is It's Wednesday, and you know what
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that means. It's time for a little spooky in your
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weekly I'm your host and narrator, Enrique Kuto, and I'm
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recording this via battery power because my entire area of
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southeast Ohio is without power currently. It has been a
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very harrowing day. I recorded our story for tonight, and
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then as I was preparing it to post, we lost
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power and proceeded to not get it back for ten
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hours now, so bear with me. Although the recording will
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sound extra quiet with no distractions like HVAC or well
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anything that brings comfort. But let's get past that. We
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could all use a break. So I just want to
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remind you, if you love what we do here at
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Weekly Spooky, you can head to Weeklyspooky dot com slash
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join and for as little as one dollar a month,
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support us directly and get two bonus episodes every month,
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as well as over five years of exclusive creepypasta readings
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and audiobooks at Weeklyspooky dot com slash Join. I really
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would appreciate it. Your support is what helps the program
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keep going and going and growing Weeklyspooky dot Com slash Join.
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But now, as for tonight, every old house has a
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few secrets, a creaking chair, a locked room, a smell
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in the walls that never quite goes away. But Curtis
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Tucker's new house has something even worse. A basement he
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can barely stay and to enter, and a hidden passageway
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buried beneath it. His father says, it's history, a tunnel
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from another time, a secret route once used by people
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running for their lives. But history doesn't always stay buried,
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and one rainy night, Curtis decides the only way to
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stop being afraid is to climb inside and see where
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that tunnel goes. So get cozy, my spookies, this is
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a creepy one. I know you'll like it. Come on
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in by Morgan more. Hey, Kurt Dog, you mind coming
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down and helping your old dad out? A fatherly voice
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called up from the basement. Curtis Tucker stared down the
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stairs toward the place his father's voice had come from. Normally,
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he would jump at the chance to help his father
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with any project. Ever since moving into their new house,
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he had helped whenever his father asked. It was an
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old house and needed some TLC, so the opportunities were plentiful.
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More than that, they were chances to spend time together
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between his dad's long stretches on the road as a trucker.
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But this wasn't an opportunity he wanted to take. Basements
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were not something that Curtis liked. He could tolerate them
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when they were furnished, like a friend's house where there
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was a couch, a poll table, and a television with
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a game console hooked up. But your plain old Joe
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average basement, uh huh. Theirs wasn't finished and was nothing
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more than cold concrete floors, brick wall, creaky wooden stairs, cobwebs,
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and grime with the occasional visit from garden snakes and
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other critters. It wasn't fun and it scared Curtis immensely. Curtie,
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his father called. Curtis gulped and took a breath. He
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really didn't want to go down there, but he couldn't
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leave his father hanging. He took another deep breath and
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started his descent into the basement. The damp odor immediately
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filled his nose as the wood creaked beneath his feet,
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teasing the idea of breaking and sending him falling. The
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house was old, so it wasn't impossible if one wasn't careful,
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Curtis remembered hearing the realtors say the house had been
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built in the eighteen hundreds, and while old homes could
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be sturdier than modern ones, they could also be weaker
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depending on how they had been kept. Their house needed
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some tender loving care. Stepping on to the basement floor
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in just his socks, Curtis felt the cool concrete penetrate
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the fabric. The basement was divided into two sections, the
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main room and a side room that held the furnace
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and water heater. Both areas were littered with old metal
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shelving rusted in spots, along with boxes of the family's
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belongings and remnants from previous tenants. Not seeing his dad
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in the main section, Curtis gulped and walked to the
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other room. To him, this was the worst part of
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the basement. It had one light bulb that always flickered,
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even when a new one was screwed in. It always
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smelled of mildew, and his parents had put considerable time
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into cleaning mold from just that space. The room also
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featured an old, rotted wooden door, which Curtis had imagined
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being kicked in by anyone who wanted to do the
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family harm. More realistically, he figured it was how the
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critters kept getting in. But then there was the small
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shed in the back corner of the room that was
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what held his attention the most, as well as his
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imagination whenever he thought of the basement. It was wooden,
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aged and worn, though not quite as derelict as the
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basement door. There you are, kiddo, his father said. Curtis
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smiled at him. Sorry I took so long, his father
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returned the smile. No worries, just happy it leave me
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hangin' What do you need me to do. There's a
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spot on the furnace I need to get to so
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I can fix it, And I can't really hold the
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flashlight and reach it and fix it all at the
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same time. I'd holding it for me, sure thing, Dad.
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Curtis took the flashlight from his father and held it
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where he could see with steady light. His father got
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to work on the furnace as Curtis held the light.
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His eyes eventually drifted over to the shed. From what
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he could recall, he hadn't heard anything about its purpose
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when the family toward the house, nor had he worked
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up the courage to look inside and find out. That
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would mean venturing into the basement, and with how much
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he already disliked the thought of being down there, he
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was more than happy not to scratch his curiosity. His
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father stood up from his crouched position and wiped his
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hands against his pants. That should do it for now.
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Curtis stood up with him and turned off the flashlight.
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Thanks for all your help, Curtie, his father told him
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with a smile. Curtis smiled in return and gave his
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father a nod. His eyes shifted back to the shed.
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Wondering what that's all about, aren't you his dad asked, yeah.
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Curtis answered, I figured I've seen how you look at
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it whenever you come down with your mom or me
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to help out. Do you know what it's for? Mm hmm.
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The realtor told your mom and me when we first
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looked at the house, I don't think you were with
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us for that tour. If you were, you probably stayed upstairs.
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So what's it for? The realtor said, it was actually
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part of the under ground railroad. Really, Curtis asked, surprised. Yep.
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The house used to be a school for girls back
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during the Civil War, and it was one of the
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stops along the route. Escaping slaves would enter a passageway
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nearby tunnels really from lord knows how long ago. Anyway,
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they would crawl through them, and at certain points there
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were places where they could get out of the tunnels
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and into buildings in the area. They could find shelter
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or just stay in the tunnels and wait out whoever
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was trying to catch them. As it turned out, the
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school and now our house was one of those buildings.
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So there's a tunnel in the shed. Curtis asked, making
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sure he understood. You got it, kiddo. Well, More specifically,
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the tunnel leads to a little ledge, since the house
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sits on a hill. Inside there, there's a ladder that
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leads up to the ledge. People would climb down it
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to come in, or climb up it to get back
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into the tunnels. But why put a shed there to
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hide it? I imagine a lot of houses back then
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had similar little spaces that worked as pantries or storage.
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Most likely it was already there before the war and
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the owner discovered what was behind it then cleared everything
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else out. Or maybe the shed was built and the
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ladder put in specifically to help escaping slaves. Either way,
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it's a pretty interesting little historic touch to our home,
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don't you think. Curtis nodded. His father smiled and ruffled
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his hair before heading back upstairs alone. Curtis felt his
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skin begin to crawl. His eyes stayed fixed on the
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shed as he thought about what his dad had said.
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Maybe that was how so many animals found their way
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into the basement. He wondered what people who didn't know
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about the passageway would have thought if a stranger suddenly
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appeared in their home. The information his father gave him
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answered the question of what the shed was for, but
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it also made his anxiety worse. It was strange knowing
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that anyone or anything could let itself into their house
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at any time of day from somewhere else entirely. His
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dad had said there were other entrances in the area,
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either inside other buildings or hidden outside. The shed had
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already creeped Curtis out. Now. He wasn't sure whether knowing
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the truth made him feel safer or even more afraid.
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Are you coming, Curtie, His father called from the top
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of the basement stairs. Yeah, Dad, he answered. Curtis walked
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out of the room and back toward the stairs. Step
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by step, he climbed up, thinking about the unease the
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basement gave him, and now the shed as well. Before
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curiosity had been easier to ignore. Now that he knew
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what it was, the mystery felt worse. At the top
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of the stairs. He stepped into the kitchen and turned
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to look back down into the basement. A chill ran
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through him. He shook his head, trying to shake away
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the anxious thoughts. Curtis flicked the light switch, plunging the
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entire basement into darkness, then closed the door. He only
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prayed he could close the door on the shed inside
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of his head as well. Rain poured down on the
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Tucker house, creating what some would call peaceful white noise
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for anyone trying to fall asleep. That wasn't the case
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for Curtis. Aside from the small leak in his ceiling,
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which made a plipping sound each time a drop hit
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the wooden floor, his sleep was restless. Thoughts of the
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basement ran wild through his dreams, again as they often
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had since the family moved in. The dreams usually involved
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Curtis being trapped in the basement, unable to get out
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through either the door leading up to the kitchen or
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the door leading outside. Sometimes he died of fright stranded
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in the damp. Sometimes an animal attacked him. The worst
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dreams combined both fears, only upping the terror by replacing
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the animal with a human intruder. Tonight was no different,
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except the shed took center stage. Curtis's mind conjured images
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of being trapped not in the shed, but inside the
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tunnel itself, with the earth collapsing around him and blocking
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the way back as well as the way forward. He
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dreamed of being chased through the tunnels by animals, each
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one more vicious than the last. He saw himself opening
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the shed and finding one, if not several, of those
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animals waiting inside, ready to leap out at him, but
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the human threat and the possibilities of the tunnel scared
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him the most. Instead of animals leaping out, there were
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human threats of every kind. Thoughts of being chased through
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the tunnels by a person crept in every so often.
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In those dreams, Curtis was pursued by slave catchers, either
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because he had helped people escape or because he had
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somehow become one of the hunted himself. In every nightmare
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where the shed led to a human threat, Curtis didn't
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simply die of fright or wait helplessly in the dark.
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He died horribly each time in a different macabre way.
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A raindrop fell from the ceiling and landed smack dab
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between his eyebrows, finally waking him fully all the same,
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but at least he wasn't drenched in cold sweat from
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the nightmares. Curtis wiped the wetness from his brow and
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stared out the window into the dark rain. He was
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tempted to look at the clock, but fought the urge.
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Why bother. He knew it was night, knew it was late,
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and knew he most likely wasn't falling asleep again anytime soon.
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The problem was he didn't know what to do. The
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house was only one story save for the basement, and
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with its layout, trying to watch television or play a
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video game would most likely wake his mom and dad.
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He could read, but he didn't know if that was
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what he wanted, or even what he would want to read.
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That was the problem. Awake with plenty of possibilities but
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no clear choice that wouldn't disturb the rest of the house,
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Curtis sighed and stared up at the ceiling. He hated
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lying in bed without sleeping. The rain hadn't helped, but
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he had to admit it was probably better than the nightmares.
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The basement still ate away at him, though, even while
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he was awake, all the anxiety, all the terrible things
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that could happen, all the possibilities of what the shed
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could lead to or what it could let in. Curtis
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remembered hearing in a movie that sometimes when you were
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afraid of something, all you could do was try to
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face it head on in movieland of course that was easy.
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In real life, it was easier said than done, depending
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on the fear. Curtis thought about the basement. He knew