The house was an impulse buy. A quaint Victorian treasure hidden down a quiet street, the asking price seemed suspiciously cheap. It came with creaky floors, drafty windows, and a basement the kind you’d only see in horror movies. It was humid, dimly lit and stunk of mildew but I thought it was just a storage room and I can let it go. That was until I found the circle.
I stumbled upon it when trying to troubleshoot a plumbing leak. At the ceiling of the basement, a group of pipes spilled rusty-colored water onto the floor. Moving a shelf to inspect the source of the leak, I uncovered an intricate circle etched into the concrete floor. Unreal made symbols filled the void within, extending outwards from the center like a spider’s web.
“Great,” I muttered, half annoyed, half unsettled. “Some artist’s failed attempt at edgy decor?”
“DO NOT touch it. That’s a summoning circle.”
It was crazy, but kept burrowing in my mind, like it was an errant splinter. Summoning circles belonged to fiction, right? But then, why did I feel uneasy every time I stepped into the basement? Why did the air feel heavier around that etching, the faint hum beneath the silence too consistent to dismiss?
“A circle left incomplete can invite the uninvited.”
My stomach churned. The circle in my basement had a jagged break along the outer edge. What if… no. I shut the laptop, dismissing the thought.
But then came the sound.
The chanting grew louder. The circle glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat. Shadows danced on the walls independent from the beam of the flashlight. I froze, breath held in my chest, as a sudden draft swept the light out.
“Hello?” My voice was barely a whisper.
The response was immediate: A growl that seemed to emanate from all sides at the same time. Then, and from the center of the circle, it rose.
A figure materialized in the darkness, partially figure and mostly unlike figure. Its eyes burned crimson, piercing through the gloom. It stood above me, an abomination of limbs and blackness.
Who dares to wake me? The voice murmured throughout my body.
“I didn’t mean to,” I stuttered, stepping back in a daze. “This is some kind of mistake.”
The entity tilted its head, an unnerving smile spreading across its face. “A mistake indeed. Yet here we are.”
The circle’s aura increased in strength, and the air became dense, and it pressed in upon my breast. I stumbled back, tripping over a loose brick. My flashlight rolled to the edge of the circle, its beam flickering and illuminating the symbols.
“Complete it,” the entity hissed.
“What?”
“The circle. Finish what was started.”
“I didn’t start anything!”
The entity roared, the sound deafening. The basement walls pulsed as the symbols on the circle writhed almost lifelike.
Or do not finish it, this life shall know my retribution,” it boomed, its tone laced with evil.
Terror paralyzed me. However, I realized somehow, I realized that completing the circle could close whatever gap had been created. Reaching for a piece of chalk from a shelf nearby, I went up to the broken edge. My hands shook as I joined the jagged edge, hoping this will finally stop the bad dream.
The instant the circle was closed, a booming crack resonated across the sky. The body screamed, its shape falling apart as a swirling void of dark Geist. The light in the room grew blinding, forcing me to shield my eyes. When it faded, the basement was silent. The circle was gone, leaving behind only scorched concrete.
I thought it was over. I was wrong.
That night, I dreamt of the entity. It stood at the foot of my bed, its crimson eyes glowing. “You think you’ve won?” it whispered. “This is only the beginning.”
33 AM. The shadows in the corners seemed darker, alive. A faint scratching sound came from the walls.
Over the following days, strange things began to happen. Objects moved on their own. Lights flickered. The basement door would not close and the my, whether locking it a several times. Then came the susurrus that never reached the ear, only capable of being heard at night, always just out of my reach.
Panicking, I contacted a local historian, an old lady named Marjorie. She listened intently as I recounted everything, her expression grave.
“That house has a dark history,” she said. “The previous owner dabbled in rituals they didn’t fully understand. The circle was intended to call forth a superhuman entity, but they did not do it. You… you must have completed it incorrectly.”
“What do I do? I blurted, my chest heaving with rising fear.
“You need to banish it. Properly. But be warned, it will fight back.”
Marjorie gave me an aged, leather covered book containing rituals and incantations. That evening, with salt, candles, and the book, I went down to the basement for one last time.
The air was electric, the shadows writhing as if alive. By placing the candles all around the room, I laid the circle of salt and started the incantation. The words felt foreign on my tongue, each syllable dripping with power.
The entity appeared; its form more monstrous than before. “You dare challenge me?” it roared.
“Leave this place! I shouted, my voice trembling but resolute.
The room erupted into chaos. Though, the walls felt to move in, the floor shaking from me. The thing lunged, its dark body reaching down to me, but the salt caused it to hesitate. I repeated the incantation, my voice booming out above the din.
And with a final, hoarse cry, the being was sucked into the circle. The signs flared white-hot and disappeared in a flash. When the dust settled, the basement was still. The oppressive air lifted, replaced by an eerie calm.
I got out the very next day, leaving the house and its horrors behind. However, sometimes in the middle of the night, I can still “hear” whispers low, faint, and just out of reach.