I lived in an apartment building that was built around 1916. The same family has owned it since the building was built. In the basement of this building is the usual laundry room, storage areas, water heaters, electric meters, etc. But in the far back corner of the basement is a locked door.

One night around 3am I was in the basement in the laundry room getting ready to take my clothes out of the dryer before bed, when I heard a faint scratching at that door from the other side. It was definitely not a stray cat or anything like that. It started along the very top of the door and slowly moved it's way down to the floor. It did this about 5 or 6 times, so I know it wasn't my imagination.

I started walking towards the door and yelled out, "Hello, is anybody there?"

I was met with 1 more final scratch on the door and then it was silent. I quickly gathered my clothes from the dryer and went back upstairs to my apartment.

The next day, I asked my landlord what's behind the door and he said, "It's just storage, nothing more". I told him I thought I heard scratching on the door the previous night and there could be a stray cat or animal trapped in there. "You were probably just tired and hearing things", he replied. I assured him that I definitely heard something and maybe he should check it out. He said he would take a look. Then he wished me a good day and went about his business.

As the weeks went by, I don't know why, but the thought of opening that door absolutely consumed my mind fully. Something in the back of my mind was telling me to open that door. Like some sort of sick craving, it's all I could think about. I couldn't focus on anything else. I wasn't sleeping well and I kept missing work. All over that damn door. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get in no matter what.

I devised a plan to get that door open. I called my friend John (not his real name) who was a locksmith and told him about the door and the scratching. He declined stating it was illegal for him to open the door without the landlord's permission and he could lose his job over it. Eventually, I just offered him a couple hundred dollars to pick the lock for me and, for whatever reason (perhaps the urgency in my voice), he agreed.

The landlord is never around on the weekend. Ever. I have never seen the guy on the property during the weekend as he lives about 30 minutes away. So, I figured John and I would go down into the basement around 3am on Saturday when the other tenants are sleeping and pick the lock. Even if they heard someone in the basement, it wouldn't be a big deal since I am usually down there doing laundry late at night anyway. They wouldn't suspect anything.

John met me at my apartment as planned and we headed into the basement.

"You feeling okay, man? You look a little rough.", he said.

"I'm fine."

He got to work and within a few minutes, he popped the lock open. The door now stood slightly ajar, with Johns hand on the doorknob.

"Well, this is it.", he said as he slowly opened the door, "let's see what's on the other side."

The room itself was small. Only about 400 square feet or so. I shined my flashlight all over the room but it was empty except for some random maintenance things like a ladder, a mop, and some tools. Over in the corner there was about a dozen sealed boxes piled up.

"There's nothing here", John sighed, "I'll lock this back up and let's get out of here."

I wasn't convinced. I had a strange feeling. That weird craving came back. I felt there was more to this room than meets the eye. I walked over to the boxes and started to open one when I noticed something was under the box. Bingo. Under the boxes was a small wooden hatch about 4 feet by 4 feet. It wasn't locked.

Opening the hatch revealed a small stairway which descended down about 10 feet onto a small landing. Shining our flashlights in, we could see yet another stairway at the bottom of that landing.

"I'm not going down there, no way in hell.", John said shaking his head back and forth almost a little too dramatically. "No, sir. You're on your own from here on out."

"Suit yourself. But, I'm going down there.", I said as I started to slowly descend the staircase.

I cautiously went down the stairs to the landing and then down the other set of stairs. It led into another landing. I estimate I went down about 5 or 6 stories on this strange series of stairs and landings.

I finally reached the bottom of the staircase. So here I was, 60 feet underground. I found myself in a long, thin hallway with a high ceiling. I shined my light into the darkness but the hallway seemed to go on quite a ways. I couldn't tell how long it was. I was starting to get scared. Should I turn around? Should I keep exploring? What is this place? What is it used for?

I stopped and stood there for a minute just looking into the darkness. Soon, that weird craving and feeling overtook my mind again. I knew I had to keep going.

I took a deep breath and kept moving forward into the pitch black. After about 5 or 6 minutes of walking, the hallway ended. At another solid metal door. The door had a black sign in red letters that read "No Trespassing". It was one of those cheap signs you could buy at a home improvement store. I kind of chuckled to myself that someone had actually put a sign up way down here. After all, whose ever going to read it? I put my hand on the knob and jiggled it a bit.

It wasn't locked. I opened it.

The door opened into a field on a bright, sunny day. There was tall grass about 5 feet high softly blowing in the breeze. I could see a forest off in the distance, and beyond that, a mountain range. There was a path cut into the field leading from the doorway and out into the forest. Along either side of the path was what appeared to be bones. Human bones. I could see things - large black shapes - stirring in the tall grass like some kind of predator, but couldn't tell what they were. They were silent, but definitely moving around out there and they seemed to be moving in my general direction.

I snapped a picture of the field on my cellphone camera as proof. I quickly closed the door and did not investigate further. My craving, or whatever is was, had vanished. Fear overtook me and I rushed back to John.

When I finally arrived, he was pacing around and looked upset.

"The sun is coming up, man. We have to lock this door back up and get out of here. You've been down there for 4 hours."

"4 hours?", I asked surprised. It felt like I was only down there maybe an hour tops.

"Yeah man. What was down there anyway?", John asked.

"Well, there was some -", I paused for a bit. "... some old tools and more boxes. Maybe it was built as a bomb shelter or something."

John sighed and locked the door back up. He packed up his tools and headed home.

I went back up to my apartment and was going to transfer the picture I had taken on my cellphone over to my computer. But the picture was nothing more than the street outside of my own apartment building. There was no field.

It still gives me a slight chill to think about what would have happened if I stepped through that doorway and out into that mysterious field.

I moved the following day.