“Sold As Is”
By Colin Milroy
Daryl and Julie Grant were charmed by the home on Chicago’s Northwest Side. Summerdale Avenue was quiet, and the house was everything they needed. There was even a striking orange maple tree next door on an otherwise treeless street.
The Realtor warned them beforehand about foreclosed properties. They had seen “foreclosure rage” in some badly damaged houses. “The reduced price carries risks,” he said.
Unlike other foreclosed properties, the house on Summerdale near Cumberland did not have damage on the upper level. As they strolled through the property, Daryl and Julie actually found it quite pleasant. It was quaint, a little single-level home mostly devoid of furnishings, but there were no ripped out pipes, torn up flooring, or holes in the walls. Foreclosure rage did not seem to have affected the living areas.
The basement, however, was different. There were deep gashes in the concrete on every wall, even in the foundation itself.
Julie squinted at the damaged walls. Maybe it was the late afternoon light from the cloudy basement windows, but she imagined the angry slashes came from claws tearing the walls like flesh.
“Daryl, honey, I need to go sit down,” Julie said.
She walked upstairs and leaned against the basement door.
It was an easy choice, really. The foreclosure status knocked the price down 60 percent, even with so little damage.
Julie and Daryl secured the property by early October. A surprisingly quick transaction, as if they were doing the Realtor a favor.
They patched up the basement walls, and a coat of warm yellow paint made it look almost cheerful. The only issue had been the wiring. They took turns flipping breakers in the basement several times a day.
The night before the electrician’s visit, the fuses blew again.
They were reading in bed when the furnace shut down and their bedside lamp went dead. “There’s barely anything on!” Daryl groaned, rolling out of bed.
After 10 minutes, there was still no power. Knowing she married a man who could get lost in his own house, Julie decided to check on him.
The stairs creaked as she walked into the basement. It was cold, and she pulled her robe tighter across her chest. At the bottom of the stairs, she encountered a thick wall of darkness.
“Daryl?” she called. Her voice sounded muffled, as if she was talking into a blanket. No answer.
She turned, expecting to see the stairs, but there was only more darkness. How had she lost her bearings?
Her breath quickened a step. Why wouldn’t her eyes adjust? Putting her hands to her face, she could feel yet barely see them.
She was starting to panic. She was about to scream when the furnace suddenly burst to life next to her as the power turned on again. A low reddish light outlined Daryl’s form by the fuse box.
“Jeez,” she breathed. “What were you doing?”
He didn’t move.
She smiled. “Okay, you got me. Can we go back to bed now?”
She took his hand. “How did you find the fuse box?”
Julie saw the stairs leading to the kitchen. Relieved, she walked toward them, gently pulling Daryl’s hand.
As she started up the stairs, the lights suddenly turned on in the kitchen. She froze.
“Daryl,” she breathed, “I think someone else is in the house.”
A voice from the kitchen said, “Julie?” Her chest tightened.
The voice said, “Honey? Are you in the basement?”
An approaching shadow slashed down the steps.
“Couldn’t find the fuse box, so I got candles from the dining room.”
Daryl’s face appeared in the basement doorway above. “Oh, there you-“
The warm smile dropped from his face.
Julie looked down at the hand she was holding. It was pale with patches of gray, visible only to the elbow. The darkness swallowed the rest of the arm. The hand pulled her backwards with surprising force.
A boy’s face tore through the darkness, appearing inches from her face. She saw burning bloodshot eyes.
A whisper blew into her ear, “Don’t go. He’s up there.”
Julie felt numb.
“He’s coming back.” The voice was lower. Angrier.
The grip tightened. Julie’s fingers started to fold into themselves.
She never knew how Daryl pried her hand loose. She remembered outstretched fingers beneath a desperate face as Daryl pulled her up the basement stairs.
Reduced price carries risks.
The End
