A 7-Letter Word for Maudlin

It started like any normal day, but then most do. Have you ever heard of a bad day, when someone retells it, where they expected everything to go sideways? “I woke up just knowing dad would have a heart attack and die today.”

No. Those kind of days always start like a normal day. This day was like that. Normal. That’s why they always say “I never suspected anything.”

Nick had left for work and dropped the kids at school on his way. I sat down for my morning coffee and crossword puzzle before I would tackle the task at hand: cleaning the basement.

“Hmmm. A 7-letter word for maudlin.” Macabre. Yes, that fit.

Several blanks left and the mug empty, I put on a sweater and my shoes, opened the basement door, flipped on the light switch, and headed down with my supplies: paper towels, rags, cleaning solvents, and my tools. Cleaning an old basement meant pulling up mildewed linoleum, cleaning the tiny windows just above my sight line, and (worst of all) unclogging the sump pump. The standing water in that corner smelled bad, looked murky, and made my stomach turn. I’d save that for last.

I put my earbuds in and listened to some 80’s rock to keep me moving and motivated. Bon Jovi filled my head.

The one bare bulb hanging from the ceiling pathetically lit this part of the house. Windows would be first, then. I dragged an empty bucket to the first window, flipped it over, and climbed up. The bucket shook under my weight, and I had to grab the sill to steady myself. Great. Now I had a sliver in my finger. Well that would have to wait until I could get back upstairs to wash it out.

Glass cleaner and paper towels did a lot to let more light in. The place looked brighter already.

I turned my attention to the linoleum. What may once have been kinda pretty was yellowed and curling at the edges. “Tripping hazard,” I thought aloud. 

I got to work with my putty knife, sliding it under the edge and working it up a bit at a time. Inches turned to feet and before long I was making progress.

That’s when I saw it. Some writing under the old flooring. Looked like it had been painted on the cement.

I grabbed hold of the edge and pulled hard, stepping back unexpectedly into the disgusting sump water, the filth seeping into my shoes more quickly than I could have imagined. 

I turned to look at the puddle. It seemed darker somehow. And in spite of the light bulb and clean windows there was no reflection: just a dark morass. It seemed fathomless. 

I stepped closer, the linoleum still in my hand.

Suddenly the water was up to my ankles. Something grabbed my feet. I tried to scream but couldn’t even get a breath before I was dragged to the murky depths, holding a putty knife in one hand and the edge of the ancient flooring in the other. 

Then it all went black.

****

Nick picked up the kids from the tutor’s on the way home from work. Sam and Willa talked nonstop all the way home. “At least they aren’t fighting,” he mumbled.

Walking through the door, there was no dinner cooking. A half-done crossword and empty coffee cup sat on the table. The basement door was open.

Nick made his way to the top of the steps and yelled “honey, are you down there?” No reply. She must have her ear buds in, he thought.

He plodded down the stairs. Lexi was nowhere to be found, but on the floor he saw this written: 

Into the abyss

We never miss

In the murky depths

Eternal rest