This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Infamous-Lake-530 on 2026-05-27 22:46:52+00:00.

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In the summer of 1999, I was sixteen years old. My biggest concerns were finding smokes, booze, weed, and dealing with the constant fear that I might die a virgin. I had a very small circle of friends.

Most weekends, my dad left for the lake Friday night after dinner. My mom spent her days off working on her degree by correspondence, breaking only for groceries and church. That left my best friend and me with plenty of freedom to take advantage of everything the little lakeside town had to offer. Most Saturday nights were spent drinking beer, playing guitar, and watching movies in the basement.

One of our favourite things to do was sneak out of the house around midnight to walk the streets and smoke. We normally wound up sitting on a bench near the boat launch or somewhere on the boardwalk.

Earlier that summer, the old two-storey wooden schoolhouse on the outskirts of town had finally been abandoned. It had briefly served as an apartment building before the owners decided it was no longer viable and shut the doors for good. Luckily for David and me, they’d done a poor job securing the doors.

It was a typical Saturday in late July. He and I spent the day at the beach. After a barbecue, our drummer came over for a jam session. We ended the night drinking and playing GoldenEye until my mom went to bed.

Around 11:30, the expedition began. Our gear consisted of a flashlight, a pack of Player's Lights with two joints stuffed inside, and a Bic lighter. The walk was only about four blocks.

The streetlights cast an orange glow over the gravel streets. The only paved road in town was the main street, a secondary highway that split the town in half.

Our pace slowed as we approached the horseshoe-shaped driveway to make sure nobody was there, and all the neighbours had retired from their decks for the night. Everything was quiet. My dad had begun his teaching career there, and my step sister had lived in one of the upstairs apartments. It wasn't completely foreign territory.

David gripped the doorknob with both hands and gave it a hard yank. The door swung open with a creak. We slipped inside and shut the door behind us, cutting off the last of the light from the street. I turned the flashlight on and cast the beam over the wooden staircase leading to the second floor.

“Up top first?” I whispered.

“Yeah, why not? Let's go look at the apartments.”

David started up the stairs, holding the bannister to steady himself as he went. I followed close behind, keeping the beam of the flashlight ahead of us. The apartment to the left of the stairs contained nothing but broken drywall, kitchen appliances, and bags of garbage.

The second apartment was nearly identical, only it offered a decent view of the backyard. The old trees were clearly visible in the moonlight, as well as the small cemetery and forest beyond. You could faintly hear the river in the background about two hundred yards away.

The main-floor apartment was in worse shape. It had clearly been in the process of renovation when the money dried up.

“Ready for the basement?” David asked.

“Yeah, let's do it.”

Back at the landing, I opened the door to the basement. The air was musty and smelled like wet concrete. It was mostly empty. There were a few cardboard boxes, a table saw, some broken shelves, and a relatively new furnace. Weak ribbons of moonlight filtered through four below-grade windows, partially blocked by weeds.

We sat in the middle of the floor, back to back, each of us facing the ends of the building. I shut off the flashlight and David lit a joint. It was passed back and forth in silence.

“You hear anything?” I asked.

“Fuck all, man.”

“Give it a bit.”

“Should we say something?”

“Technically, you are.”

He choked out a cough in response as he pinched the joint and put the roach back in his cigarette pack.

“I need a smoke,” I said, reaching back behind me.

I took one from the pack, put it in my mouth, and lit it. Glancing up, I noticed the smoke hanging in the air around us. I swore I saw the shadow of a person in the corner as my thumb slipped off the lighter.

The flame went out. I grabbed the flashlight and shone it slowly over the wall. There was nothing but evidence of a lazy contractor.

“Turn that off. I'm trying to enjoy myself.”

“Take your lighter.”

Switching off the light, I put it down beside me. David lit up as well. We sat there and listened in the dark. I didn't mention the shadow. After taking a long drag, I leaned forward and pulled my feet into a cross-legged position. As I did, I felt a gentle but obvious breath against my right ear.

“Christ, you're creepy,” I whispered.

“This was your idea, homie.”

“Nothing yet, huh?”

“Nope.”

I leaned forward a little more, put out my smoke on the basement floor, and sat there. It was a while before I noticed that I didn't feel David behind me anymore.

“Dave?” I whispered.

There was a long pause.

“Did you pass out down here, you drunk?”

I reached down for the flashlight but it was gone.

“Dave, seriously, quit fucking around!” I yelled, stumbling as I jumped back to my feet.

I turned in a tight circle, searching for the flashlight with my feet. All I found were two cigarette butts.

“Dave!”

There was no sound other than my own voice echoing off the concrete walls.

“Okay, fine. Enjoy being down here alone. I'm out.”

I walked towards the wall, knowing that when I found it I could follow it to the stairwell and get out. It didn't quite go as planned and I tripped and fell twice. Once over an old Skilsaw some asshole left in the middle of the floor and again on a stack of OSB piled knee-high.

Eventually, I found the stairs and charged up them as fast as I could. I turned my shoulder at the top and hit the door hard. It swung open and revealed the faint outline of the landing and the main entrance. I stopped for a moment, half expecting my friend to be sitting on the stairs, but he wasn't there.

I ran for the front door and kicked it as hard as I could. As it flew open, I broke for the driveway and the dimly lit street.

“Fucker…” I mumbled to myself as I settled into a jog I normally reserved for gym class.

When I made it home, the house was dark and quiet. I gently opened the door and took off my shoes in the entryway. Before going downstairs, I took a peek at the clock on the stove and immediately wished I hadn't. It read 3:15. I crept downstairs, trying to wrap my head around the math.

David was lying on the couch fast asleep. The TV was still on, but the station had signed off and the screen was just static. I stared at him for a minute, then sat in the recliner, forced it back and turned off the TV.

The next morning, we woke to my mom calling us up for breakfast. David carried on as usual. We finished eating and then took our coffees out on the deck and sat down for a cigarette.

“Nice job leaving me there, asshole,” I hissed at him, not wanting to draw my mom's attention.

“What are you talking about?”

“Where's my dad's flashlight?”

“You had it last night. You carried it home with you.”

I gave him a look.

“I got up, heard you pick up the light, then you followed me up the stairs,” he said, almost as if he were trying to convince himself.

“Dave, that wasn't me. I didn't go down to the rec room with you, did I?”

“No. I thought you were just taking a piss or something.”

“I didn't get down there until a quarter after three.”

“Frybag!” He laughed, changing the subject.

After he left, I searched inside and out for the flashlight and never found it.