Lost Keys in the Stone Cellar Stairs

Lost Keys in the Stone Cellar Stairs

I was at my parents' house, trying to leave for work, but I couldn't find my car keys anywhere. When I walked down the basement stairs to check the laundry room, the stairs just kept going down into this cold, damp stone cellar that definitely isn't part of their house. It looked like an old crypt or dungeon, smelling like wet earth and burnt wax. My old coworker Dave was down there sitting on an overturned plastic bucket, sorting through a pile of black iron keys, but he had this pale, sunken look like he hadn't slept in years. He told me I was late for my shift and that the doors upstairs were already locked from the outside. I tried to run back up the wooden steps, but my legs felt like lead weights and the lights kept flickering out into total darkness. There was this creeping dread that something was standing right behind me on the stairs, waiting for me to turn around, but I woke up before I could reach the top landing.