Crawlspace

The following is a short story I’ve written that will appear in my next collection (hopefully coming out in 2024). I was watching an episode of Undercover Boss and the guy was working at a pest control company and they kept repeating the word “crawlspace” until it became sinister to my ear. This story was the result.

Crawlspace

“There’s somethin’ underneath the house. In the crawlspace,” drawled Mr. Harding,

“You aint afraid of tight places, are ya?” wheezed Mrs. Harding, puffing on a cigarette. “The crawlspace is real tight.”

Tom smiled. “Ma’am, I’ve been doing this job for over twenty years now. If I was afraid of tight places, I wouldn’t have lasted a day.” Usually, Tom’s smile and easy manner comforted his pest removal service’s clients, but Mr. and Mrs.  Harding wereremarkably unimpressed.

“Hmph,” replied Mr. Harding. “Well, our crawlspace is tighter than most, and lower too. Plus, it goes on further than you might think. But if you’re up for it, you’re welcome to try an’ get whatever’s under there out. Come on, I’ll show you where it’s at.”

Mr. Harding got up from the table and followed him out of the kitchen. As they left, Mrs. Harding spoke up.

“You’re probably going to have to writhe,” she said.

Tom turned around, his smile fading with confusion. “What?”

“Probably can’t do much crawlin’ under there. Probably gonnahave to writhe most the time,” she said, smoke curling out of her nostrils.

“Ah, I see,” said Tom, not seeing what she meant at all.

“Mildred, quit tryin’ to scare the man away,” said Mr. Harding.

“I’m just tellin’ him like it is,” she said with a shrug.

“Never mind her,” said Mr. Harding as he led Tom outside. They made their way to the back porch, down the rickety wooden steps to the crawlspace, which was covered by a piece of lattice. Mr. Harding pulled this away, revealing an admittedly smaller than usual opening.

“Well, here it is.” Mr. Harding bit his lip, like he was itching to say something else, but all he said was “good luck.”

Tom turned on his headlamp and knelt on the ground. Mud seeped into the knees of his jumpsuit – mud, and from the smell of it, more than mud. Tom wrinkled his nose, but he’d get used to the smell and the dampness eventually. He scootched inside the crawlspace.

Normally, some light from the entryway would illuminate things, but the light cut off abruptly, leaving Tom with only the light from his headlamp. He surveyed what little he could see. Most crawlspaces were open , with only loadbearing walls extending down to that level. This one however was a maze of walls. Tom had been in the house, and it didn’t have enough rooms to warrant this warren.

Something skittered off to his right. He whipped in that direction, the light bobbling unsteadily, illuminating a long, naked tail vanishing around a corner. A possum? A big possum, from what Tom could tell. He went to follow it and whacked his head on a beam. He swore and put a hand to his forehead. It came back covered in blood. The band of his headlamp kept the blood out of his eyes, but he wasn’t keen on getting the wound dirty as he crawled.

Probably gonna have to writhe, said Mildred’s voice in his head. With a sigh, Tom lay flat on his stomach and inched his way forward.

The fetor in the crawlspace made Tom gag. He’d never been one to let a stench get to him before, but this smell was different. A blend of various animal feces, wood rot, decaying flesh, blood, and something unidentifiable that burned his nose hairs, this stink was almost tangible. Tom did his best to breathe through his mouth, but that was almost worse. The stench coated his tongue and he dry heaved. He didn’t have a respirator with him, but he felt in the pockets of his jumpsuit and found a fabric mask. It was thin, but anything would help at this point. He put it on and breathed a bit easier.

A hunched figure wormed its way towards him. Its skin glowed a phosphorescent white, illuminating its face. It had a long snout and sharp fangs, but its eyes were humanoid and bright red. Tom yelped as the creature sped up its approach. It hissed in the light of Tom’s headlamp and jumped on Tom’s back, flattening itself as its claws dug into his jumpsuit for purchase. Tom screamed and batted at the creature, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

Panting, Tom tried to recover, but the creature’s fangs and sullen red eyes kept popping into his mind. Panic set in, and Tom banged his head again and again attempting to find the exit. The narrow walls prevented him turning around, so he wriggled backwards. He’d sustained several more wounds as he fled, and blood flowed freely into his eyes and soaked into his mask. He whipped his head back and forth, searching for an exit, but everything looked the same.

Eventually, he caught sight of a wide opening off to his left, a white glow emanating from it. He crawled towards it, faintly noticing the stench grew worse as he approached. The white glow shifted and moved more than sunlight should. It separated into individual beings: more of the humanoid creatures like the one that had attacked him. These creatures were perched on a pile of bones and still-rotting meat, some of which was human.

Tom backed away but ran into a wall directly behind him. How had a wall appeared behind him? The creatures screeched shrilly and scampered towards him. Tom put his arms up instinctively, but more of the creatures appeared every second. They pulled his arms away from his face, gnawing on them. A particularly large creature grinned sardonically at Tom before lunging at his throat and tearing it out with its teeth. Tom gurgled and writhed in his death throes.

Mr. Harding put the latticework door back over the crawlspace entrance.

“That should hold them critters for another couple of months,” he hollered.

From inside the house, Mildred wheezed as she laughed.