I had been living in the same house for over the past six years. I lived with my grandparents  and they had long owned the house. When I came of age, they passed it to me.
I had never even heard of the house before then. I had been living with my parents up until they passed. My mother and father rarely spoke of my grandparents, so I always assumed they just hadn't been on the same page or something. I was young and didn't understand life then.
That's why I found it odd I went to live with them.
My grandparents told me the house was built in the old Victorian times, and the house held many secrets. As a child I would explore the servents quarters and halls, sit in the ashes of the old fireplaces and draw with the charcoal.
It had burned down three times in the past before it was rebuilt and up to code.
My grandparents seemed adamant to get rid of the house. They left before I could ask to many questions...
But what they did tell me was this ...

Don't go into the basement.

Rumors surrounded the house. They talked of ghosts and demons.
I hadn't believed any of it till I experienced it myself.

It was late April, it had been raining all day and I decided to stay inside. I had been exploring the house usually when I had the sudden urge to go to the kitchen. I later found out it was came from the basement. I arrived at the door which was an old oak slab, that somehow still stood.

I had opened the door and stared down the long staircase, and into the darkness. Something drew me to take a step, and another and another.

Curiosity, intuition, or some other divine pull. I still am not sure.

The stairs creaked with each step I took. The light switch was a the bottom of the stairs well, so my trip going down was in absolute darkness.

With a flick of the switch the lights came on. The place was unfinished and dust coated everything. The basement was quiet.
No...
I strained to hear something. It was coming from deeper in the corridor. I followed the sound till I came to a rusted, iron door.
From behind it heard moaning.
At this point I felt a heavy presence that almost suffocated me.

I couldn't take it and ran back up the stairs in a fright.

Years passed and I never went back down.

It wasn't until I was moving out, deciding the large house was too big for one person did I go back down. I assumed now that I was a grown adult, I wouldn't be so scared.

I didn't know what I was expecting...

A phantom?

Rats?

Perhaps a wild animal that made it's home there?

For sure, I do know I was not expecting to find a person....
Or more like two.

Those of which I knew.

I recognized my grandparents even after they had rotted away in their chains.