Grandma says we’re not allowed to go in the basement.

I wait until I can hear Grandma snoring, then I make my way to the basement.

Whatever’s down there has to be pretty neat, right? Gotta be pretty neat… why else would she say not to go down there?

The door to the basement is locked with a padlock, but Grandma keeps the key to it on a hook right next to the door.

Like, come on?

You’re not gonna keep me out of the basement that way. Maybe she’s just getting old and doesn’t want to forget where the key is.

I open the padlock and swing open the door. A puff of air hits me that smells… old. Everything in this house smells old. Maybe that just happens when you’re old?

I take one step into the basement and the stair creeks like I stepped on a cat’s tail. I freeze, grimace, and mouth the word “yikes.” I stand still for a second, but I can still hear Grandma snoring upstairs (are old people supposed to snore that loud?).

I hold my breath as I walk down the rest of the steps like a ninja. I’m quiet as a mouse, silent as the grave, until I step on a splinter and let out a tiny yelp.

“Hello? Is somebody there?”

I hear a voice, only the problem is that it didn’t come from upstairs.

The voice is coming from the basement.

Despite my better judgement, I respond with a hushed, “hello?”

“Oh, thank god, please you have to help me.”

“Where are you?” I ask in my loudest whisper.

“In the corner. Please hurry, before she wakes up.”

In the corner of the basement a blanket was draped over something, so I gave it a quick tug. Underneath was a cage, and inside was—

“Grandpa,” I say, much louder than I should have, “why are you in there?”

“Grandma put me here.”

“This isn’t like an old person sex thing… is it?” I regret asking the second the words come out.

“No, god, please! You have to get me out of here before she—”

The lights to the basement turn on, and suddenly Grandma is standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“I distinctly remember telling you that you are not allowed down here.” Grandma’s voice has a venom to it that makes my skin crawl.

“Grandma,” I ask, trying not to let her see me shake, “why is Grandpa in a cage?”

Grandma walks over, grabs my shoulder, and gently backs me away from the cage.

“I was hoping we could have this discussion when you were older, but there’s no point in putting it off now.” Grandma takes a deep breath. “That’s not your grandfather.”

I look at the man in the cage and then look back at Grandma.

“Yes it is,” I say.

“My child, it only looks like your Grandpa, but it most certainly is not.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Grandpa calls from the cage, “she’s gone crazy!”

“Shut your mouth, or I will shut it for you!”