Portents of Fear is a horror fiction podcast which is intended for mature audiences. Discretion is advised.
Welcome, Fearlings, to another weird and horrifying tale made just for you. I am your host, Michulhu,
and I'll be your guide into the macabre and mysterious. Tonight's story begs the question,
would you believe your partner about the hole in the basement?
Before we get started, take a moment to like, subscribe, and ring that notification bell so
you don't miss a single terrifying story. Rochelle did not see the hole when she stepped into it.
She was carrying a laundry basket laden with the kids' clothes and her broken dreams.
The headphones in her ears played the latest crime podcast. Then, reality shifted as she found herself
falling forward. The impact was hard, and suddenly everything hurt. Son of a...
She murmured to herself as she tried to move, but Rochelle soon found out that her ankle was broken.
Searing pain radiated up her left leg. She sat up and looked for what had sent her crashing to the
ground, and there, in the middle of the basement floor, was a one-foot-wide hole. It was a perfect
circle in the concrete. She tried to stand up, but had nothing nearby to grab onto, and she was sure
she may have cracked her kneecap as well. Her head throbbed, and her head was broken.
A golf ball-sized lump had formed on the side of her head, but the hole was different. Interesting.
Why was it there? It seemed cold and inviting at the same time. Did her idiot husband start a project
without warning her or the kids? Her curiosity gave Rochelle the will to turn her body towards it
to see what could be down this hole. Rochelle reached the edge of the hole and peered down
into it. She could not see the bottom, just a darkness. Staring down, she lost herself in thought.
The years of her life rose up the one-foot shaft through the darkness and hit her like a truck.
Memories of what was lost, and a deep depression over what could have been. She felt like she had
wasted so much of her life. What was she even doing with the time she had left? Sure, she loved
her kids and husband, didn't she? In that moment, Rochelle was only certain of one thing, that
nothing mattered. Looking into the hole made her feel hopeless and small and lost all at once.
Rochelle woke up in the hospital. Her husband, Pete, was sitting next to the bed with a look
of relief when she opened her eyes. Welcome back to the land of the living. We were worried,
he said gently while patting her hand. How did I get here? She mumbled while trying to sit up.
Pete motioned for her to stay still. Take it easy. Don't move. You took a bad fall and banged
yourself up good, he told her. Why didn't you tell me you had dug a hole in the basement?
I almost broke my neck, she asked as her brain came back online. Her head felt like a block of
pain. What hole? The one in the basement that I tripped over? Pete, I've told you your projects
would hurt someone someday. I just didn't know it would be me. I had the laundry in my hands and my
foot went right in and bam, hospital. You need to be more careful. Honey, I didn't start a new project.
There is no hole down there. I'm not sure why you fell. Maybe there was water on the floor, but there
was no hole, he assured her. I'm not crazy. There was a hole in the middle of the floor, Pete. Okay,
maybe I didn't see it, but I know I didn't dig a hole. That would take a jackhammer to get through
the slab. When I was down there, I focused on you and didn't see it. I'll check when we get home.
Glad I didn't step in it, he lied. He knew there was no hole. Pete had gotten home with the kids
at four o'clock as usual. It was Friday and he was excited for a weekend of working on his 1968
Mustang Fastback on a Saturday and watching football with the kids on Sunday. He was even
thinking about taking Rochelle out that Saturday night to dinner. Maybe drop the kids off at his
mom's for the night. She lived a few doors down. It had been a while since they'd gone out on a date.
Hell, they may even have sex. What a weekend that would be. Arriving home, he called out for Rochelle
as his two kids darted upstairs to play some video game he didn't understand. Eldritch Ring or
something. He had no clue. Her car was out front, so she had to be home. She was always home. When
no reply came, he searched the house. Nothing. Then he texted her. 30 minutes went by and Pete
decided to track her phone. This was something he didn't want to do, but he was starting to get
worried. It said her phone was in the house. That's when he remembered it was laundry day and she was
more than likely downstairs. The one place he didn't check. Pete walked down the stairs to find
her lying on the concrete floor. He rushed over to check for life. She was breathing, thank God.
From what he could tell, she must have fallen, hit her head, and passed out. He had no idea how long
Rochelle had been unconscious. There was no evidence of what she had tripped on. Her ankle
was swollen, purplish red, and he could tell the bones were, well, wrong. She had bled from the
head, but that seemed to have stopped. A thought entered his mind right then. There goes my weekend.
He shook his head as if to try to push the thought away. He tried to wake her, but couldn't. He called
911 and then his mom to come watch the kids. When the ambulance picked her up 10 minutes later, he
followed her in his car. Finally, the worry for her drowned out that thought. There goes my weekend.
There would be other weekends. Rochelle was discharged from the hospital Saturday morning
and spent the whole weekend in bed. Pete searched the basement for the hole, but there was nothing
there. She did hit her head hard, he thought. Rochelle couldn't make it down the stairs,
so she had to rely on Pete for everything. It was frustrating. The kids didn't really seem
fazed or interested in her well-being. They came by when forced to check on her or to do something.
She argued with Pete several times about the hole. She knew it was there. She had broken her ankle in
the damn thing. Not to mention the cracked kneecap and concussion. Long hours in bed brought questions.
She had always loved her husband, right? She had always loved her kids for sure, didn't she? Her
mind wandered back to the hole in the basement, the darkness and depth of it, the cold feeling
of emptiness, of loneliness. It was saying something in a language she did not understand.
There was no way she dreamt of that darkness or the deafening silence that accompanied it.
Weeks went by and slowly Rochelle's body got better. She was finally able to get up and down
the stairs on her own. The leg cast was going to be with her for a few months, but she was not going
to sit upstairs for that whole time. She told Pete she would take it easy. What choice did she have?
His mother didn't need to stay all day. If she needed Jean, she would call her. The first few
days she just ended up watching TV downstairs instead of upstairs in her room. She let her mind
wander and thought about college and how much fun it was. Playing role playing games, the Star Wars
movie nights, book club, and then she met Pete. He was not her type. He was into sports and cars
while she liked classical music and nerdy guys. But there was something about him. He was tall
and confident, but sweet and charming. She knew he didn't care about the arts or Star Wars, but
he pretended to and that was enough for her. They spent so much time together going to parties she
would never have gone to before him that she almost had to take her whole third year over again.
She pulled it out though. Rochelle never thought about anyone else after meeting Pete. At least
not for a time. Pete ran a construction company. He had buddies with cash who set him up because
of course he did. Pete's ability to bro his way through life was both a benefit and an annoyance
to Rochelle. He had charmed his way through school with C grades and now Pete had more money than
they would ever need because all the doors just swung open for him. It wasn't right. She was a
pet bird in a gilded cage of her own making. At least that's how she felt sometimes. The reality
was that Pete's sweetness was great and he was an amazing dad. The kids were great too. She had a
wonderful life so why was she so angry at him? Why was she questioning her love for her own children?
She was lucky. She had everything she could want. She didn't feel trapped at all. Her life was perfect.
Just like the whole perfect circle reaching down into the bowels of the earth. Its perfection made
her wonder where it led. Was there anything beyond the darkness? The door opened for the house and
she snapped back into reality. Her face slicked with tears. Honey I'm home Pete called like a TV
dad from the 50s. It never bothered her before so why did it now? Hi she replied weekly. She realized
she had been sitting in the same spot for five hours and had soiled the couch. Oh hell she thought
and quickly covered the mess up. Everything okay? Pete asked as he came into the room. I dropped the
kids off at mom's so we could have a nice evening together. That's when he noticed her face. What's
wrong? I fell asleep and had an accident she admitted while uncovering the stain. It's okay
babe. I'll get the cleaner and take care of it. He put a smile on to try to reassure her. Do you need
help upstairs to clean up? Yeah meet me upstairs. Sorry about this she said. No problem. You're
recovering from a major fall. I understand he replied. He then set about cleaning the couch
and wondering why his wife seemed so distant. The doctor said the brain scans didn't show any damage.
She should be fine. Why was she not fine yet? He took a deep breath. Everything would be back to
normal soon. This will be in the past soon enough. Hey Pete I think you left my clothes in the basement
she called down. Okay I'll get them he replied. Watch out for the hole she reminded him.
He stopped at the door of the basement. Rochelle had mentioned the hole almost every day since the
accident but there was no hole. Why couldn't she just let it go? Again there is no hole babe. You
dreamt it after hitting your head. He couldn't stop himself. He had to say it. She needed to get past
this obsession. I know what I tripped on she yelled down full of rage. He never heard her yell or get
angry like that. She had always been a nice bookish girl. She was a good mother. This wasn't her at all.
He went downstairs turning on all the lights to look for the hole Rochelle believed was there and
once again found nothing. He grabbed her clothes from the dryer. He couldn't wait for things to
get back to normal. It's right there he heard from behind him. He slowly turned to find Rochelle at
the bottom of the stairs naked pointing at the middle of the floor. I told you I tripped on it
and it's been here the entire time. Why are you trying to gaslight me Pete? I know what I tripped on.
Her voice was full of the sharpest daggers. Pete looked at the spot she was pointing at. There's
nothing there babe he replied. Stop saying that. I can see it right there she insisted. Maybe we need
to talk to a professional. The fall may have caused some damage that the doctors can't see on the
scans. There is no hole there I promise. Whatever you think is there just isn't he said hoping she'd
calm down. He had heard of wives overreacting but not his Rochelle. She was always too sweet. I'm not
crazy. It's right there Pete. You're lying and you know it. Why won't you admit you're lying Pete?
She said in a low voice. Fine Rochelle where is it? He stepped right to its edge. Stop you're in
front of it. How can you not see the thing? It's at your feet she demanded. He looked down again
nothing. He lowered to touch the ground. First his hand then the rest of his arm all the way up to
his shoulder sank into the hole. He could finally see it. I told you I told you. Now get your hand
out of there she ordered. I can't it's stuck he said. Pete pulled hard but his arm would not budge.
Suddenly he felt like he was being pulled down into the hole. His clavicle snapped as the force
slowly started to drag him down. Blood sprayed out of his eyes nose and ears because it had nowhere
else to go. He screamed right up to the point where his head popped off from the sheer force of
suction. Rochelle watched in horror as Pete's entire body was squeezed into a one foot wide hole
in her basement. All that was left was a river of blood and his head staring back at her with now
dead eyes. Without a thought she walked over and kicked Pete's head into the hole with her good leg.
It too was dragged down with a horrible crunching sound. Then she made her way upstairs. She hadn't
noticed the blood on her. She was still in shock. She was still in shock. She was still in shock.
With great effort she washed herself off wrestled on her clothes and called her mother-in-law.
Jean this is Rochelle. Can you send the kids home? Thanks. Click. Well I guess Pete should have
listened to his wife. How about you? Would you have believed Rochelle? Please be sure to tell us in
the comments. If you liked this portents of fear tale consider joining our Patreon. There's a link
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your screen now. Good night fearlings. Sleep well if you can.