The Neighbor’s Basement - Reddit Horror Stories

The Neighbor’s Basement - Reddit Horror Stories

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
I Rant, a small duplex in Indiana. It's nothing fancy,
two bedrooms, a tiny yard, neighbors way too close, but
Rant is cheap and I work nights, so I don't
usually see much of the people around me, except for
the guy who lives on the other side of the duplex.
I don't know his name, never bothered to ask. He's

(00:24):
maybe mid forties, wiry, pale, always wearing the same gray hoodie.
He works odd hours too, or maybe doesn't work at all,
because I'll hear him moving around at three am sometimes.
When I first moved in, I figured he was just reclusive.
He'd nod if we ran into each other. But that

(00:44):
was it. No small talk, no complaints about the noise.
Fine by me. But three months ago things started getting weird.
It was late, close to midnight, and I was taking
trash out. That's when I noticed his basement window glowing.
The glass was grimy, but I could see movement behind it,

(01:08):
not just him pacing or anything. It looked like multiple
people shifting around down there. I froze. He lived alone,
as far as I knew. I tried to brush it off.
Maybe he had friends over. But when I looked again
the next night, the basement light was on at the
exact same time, and again there were shadows moving. Here's

(01:32):
the part that got me. The movement wasn't random. It
was slow, jerky, like someone swaying in place, several figures
back and forth. The third night, I crouched down near
the window. Stupid. I know the glass was too fogged
to make out faces, but I swear I saw four,

(01:53):
maybe five shapes, all just standing, rocking slightly, and one
was facing the window. I stumbled back and almost fell
into my trash can. The next morning, I asked him
casually if he'd had people over. He looked at me
blankly and said no. That was it. No explanation, no smile,

(02:17):
just flat denial. Since then, I've been hearing things through
the wall we share. My bedroom lines up with what
I think is his living room, But sometimes at around
two am, I'll hear muffled voices, not conversation, more like chanting,
low drawn out syllables. I don't understand. Last week it

(02:39):
got worse. I was lying in bed when I heard
something heavy dragging across the floor on his side, then
a thought, then silence. I was seconds away from calling
the cops when my phone buzzed with a notification. Basement
motion detected. I'd install the cheaps curity came out back

(03:01):
pointed at my yard. It had caught his basement window.
I opened the cliff. The light was on again, only
this time one of the figures was pressed right against
the glass, a face pale and blurred by dirt, staring out.
I didn't sleep that night. Two days ago, curiosity got

(03:22):
the better of me. He wasn't home, his car was gone,
so I walked around to the back of his unit.
The basement window was cracked open just an inch. I
crouched listened. There was breathing, not his multiple uneven breaths,
like people struggling to inhale, and then in the middle

(03:44):
of it, I whispered so close I nearly jumped out
of my skin. Help us. I ran back inside and
locked every door. Yesterday I finally called the landlord. I
told him there might be squatters or something dangerous in
the basement. He sighed like he'd heard it all before,
and said, don't worry about the basement. It's not supposed

(04:07):
to be used. I asked what that meant. He hung up.
Last night was the worst yet. Around four am, I
woke to knocking, not at my door, from inside the wall.
Three slow knocks, a pause, then three more. This morning,
when I left for work, I glanced at his side

(04:28):
of the duplex. His curtains were open for once. He
was standing in the window, just staring at me, same
gray hoodie. But what froze me was in him. It
was the line of pale faces behind him, five of
them staring too. I don't know how much longer I
can stay here. I've started packing, but every time I

(04:51):
try to leave, I get this feeling that if I
abandon this place without knowing what's in that basement, I'll
regret it for the rest of my life. The problem is,
I think whatever's in there already knows I'm watching. And
last night, when I finally worked up the courage to
replay my camera footage, I noticed something I can't explain.

(05:15):
The basement light went out at exactly three thirty three
a m. The window went dark, but just before it did,
a shape crawled out of frame upward, like it was
climbing the stairs. And now I keep hearing faint footsteps
in his unit during the day, too heavy, too many.

(05:38):
I don't think my neighbor lives alone any more.