Nothing like getting to the root of things, those thoughts that make the tiny hairs on the back of our neck stand up up and say” oh shit, I knew this was a bad idea”
When I was a kid the house we lived in had a root cellar in the basement. It was a small room we stored home canning, potatoes, and various other food sources lost in time. A true cold storage room is usually underground, or at least partly, but dad and mom thought using this space would do the trick. It was in the corner of the house, cement walls, dirt floor, dim lighting, the same surroundings I would have chosen if I wanted to live in my worst nightmare. It smelled musty and earthy, a perfect home for spiders and other undesirables.
This photo is very similar to the real thing, there was a tiny window with cobwebs big enough to smother me, and a dust encrusted light bulb hung from the center of the room.
Each time I had to go down there my heart would race, certain this would be my last day on earth. I would open the door and look in, standing at the threshold, planning how long it would take to grab what I came for.
When potatoes get old, they get wrinkled and gross looking, growing sprouts that look like alien tendrils.
My job on occasion was to sit in this creepy room, with the door closed and pick these off. Nothing better than grabbing a potato and finding a spider has beat you to it.
But at least I didn’t have a visitor like this gentleman, he I will reserve for a more adult nightmare…
“Fear is the survivalists alarm clock.”