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>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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It was a cold, gloomy evening when I realized it was time to feed the creature in the basement again. I had always dreaded this task, but I knew it had to be done.

I descended the stairs, trying to ignore the creeping feeling that something was watching me. As I approached the door to the basement, I heard the faint sound of scratching and clawing.

I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the doorknob. I knew what waited for me on the other side. But I also knew that if I didn't feed it, the consequences could be dire.

I took a deep breath and turned the knob. The door swung open with a creak, revealing the dimly lit room beyond. I could see the creature in the corner, its eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.

I approached it slowly, my hand shaking as I held out the bowl of raw meat. The creature sniffed at it hungrily, its eyes fixed on mine.

I tried to back away, but my legs wouldn't move. I was frozen in place, a mouse caught in the gaze of a predator.

The creature lunged forward, its jaws snapping inches from my face. I let out a scream and stumbled backward, tripping over my own feet as I fled up the stairs.

I locked the door behind me, panting and shaking. I knew I had to go back down there eventually, but for now, I just needed to catch my breath.

As the night wore on, I knew it was only a matter of time before the creature's hunger overpowered its fear of me. And when that happened, I knew I would have to face it again. But until then, I would stay as far away from that basement as I possibly could.

“72201, your sustenance is at the top of the steps.” I called out as I closed the door. Footsteps begin across the basement floor, finally making their way up the stairs. I hear the fork jostle against the edge of the plate as the thing descends to its pile of blankets.

A knock on the door of the basement is how I know meal time has been completed. I open the door and see the shadow moving away from the steps. “Plate retrieved 72201” I call out. Garbled inhuman noises is the only response.

A minute later my phone buzzes. “I have a name” reads the text. I reply back “now you know how I felt when you guys quarantined me in the basement for Covid. Turn about is fair play.”

Based on a true and currently active story.

We were the perfect family, loving husband, amazing wife and a dog, simple and pure living on a ranch out in upstate new york. It was a simple life, we were the perfect family so there was no need for kids. when the church goers asked if we were planning on having any we simply shook our heads and pointed to the dog. A perfect family doesnt have any problems, or so ive been told, yet every day at dusk and dawn a foul grumbling comes from the basement. Sure we were perfect but even perfection can crack like a old mirror. Yet time to feed the wretched beast in the basement came every day, more a chore than anything else, we told everyone we had no kids because the perfect family has none. And yet every time they see the dog they ask if we have kids or plan to, as the perfect family we deny the existence or plausibility of children. We only have a dog after all, the perfect family has no kids, as kids are nothing but dogs that take more tending. We hear as our dog whines in almost human language but whippings generally halt any progress made. Perfect families have no children, only dogs.

Cat

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