Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - The Basement Whispers A Paranormal Descent into Family Trauma, Madness, and Memory Loss #26

Episode Date: August 22, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #paranormalhorror #familysecrets #basementwhispers #memoryloss #psychologicalterror  When a man returns to his childhood home to care for his ailing mother, he begins hearing whispers from the basement—a place long sealed off and buried in family silence. As the voices grow louder and stranger, he uncovers long-suppressed memories, dark family secrets, and a terrifying presence that feeds on trauma. What begins as confusion spirals into madness, blurring the lines between mental collapse and something truly supernatural. A chilling tale of generational pain, lost time, and the horrors we lock away below.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, hauntedbasement, familytrauma, repressedmemories, paranormalvoices, supernaturalhorror, descentintomadness, forgottenpast, psychologicalhorror, eeriewhispers, generationalpain, horrorathome, mentalcollapse, traumauncovered, ghostlypresence

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Hey, Dad. It's funny you called just now. I was going to call you. I'm good, I'm good. How are you? That's good to hear. Anna and the kids are great. We'll probably drop by on the weekend. I've got to talk to you about something. Anyway, I'll tell you everything when we come over. Nah, everything's fine. Don't worry. It's a-uh, how do I properly put it? I guess important family stuff I'd like to talk to you about. Anyway, you wouldn't believe where I've been today. It is kind of funny that my dad called me at that moment when I was lying in a pile of rubble and dust. Everything hurt as I lay, exhausted in the last place I expected myself to end up. In the basement of my childhood home. My parents never allowed me to go there as a child. That was the excuse they had.

Years later, I found out that my grandfather lost the keys decades ago and since they had nothing of importance down there, they never bothered breaking the door down. My mom would come up with many ghost stories about the basement to keep my brother and me at bay. Then one day, she and Liam vanished. That's all I can remember. The two years between their disappearance and my dad's second marriage, I can't remember them. I'm clueless about what happened during these two years. To this day, the old man gets upset if I bring the topic up. We moved pretty soon after my my dad started dating again. Something terrible had to have happened to them because every time I tried to work my way around my memory, a great sadness washed over me. A painful sadness that

prevents me from digging any further. I've seen therapists in my earlier years, and my brain seems to repress some kind of traumatic memory. Whatever happened was probably awful. Life didn't stop there, however, not for my father or me, thankfully. He remarried and thus I had a need mother and a sister, Emma. I was a bit of an asshole to both at the start of my dad's relationship with my stepmother. It's weird to refer to my mom as a stepmother today. But yeah, I was a troublesome 14-year-old when they wed. I hated everything and everyone. Over time, I, too, moved on and I'm glad I did. I love both mom and Emma to death, even if my sister is a little hard to deal with sometimes because she has schizophrenia. It's a fun thing finding out your little sister is being

chased by imaginary vampiric voices just when you outgrow teenage angst and start your adult life. I find the positive symptoms far easier to deal with than the negative ones. Because she gets depressed, withdrawn, and incapable of holding a coherent conversation, and even all those years later and with her treatments, she's still dealing with a lifelong incurable condition that leaves her miserable and it just hurts to see. I mean, yeah, we're adults and we've our own families now, but still. We grew up close, and we remained close. Families all there is to this life, I think. I was never religious, so if it isn't for the people I care about and love, there's not much to be around for. Now, all of those things are important to explain just what happened to me.

One night, actually, on Emma's 28th birthday, we were all hammered out of our minds, including my sister who shouldn't drink but. The night went without issue. She came up to me, barely able to keep herself upright, and asked me if I believed in the supernatural. I didn't. She started giggling and my first thought she was hallucinating again. Drunk out of my ass, without thinking, I asked if she was hearing space chupacabra or something and she just shoved me. and slurred out how she had a great idea. I asked her what it was, and she said it was the funniest thing. She said I should make an online post about being a paranormal investigator just to see if anyone might bite on the idea.

Like in that movie, 1408. At the moment, I thought it was the most hilarious thing. So I did just as she suggested. The next morning, I made a post on Facebook about being a paranormal investigator. Yes, back then people still used Facebook. At first, it yielded no results, but over time came out asking for advice and even inviting me to investigate. I thought it was silly, I still think so, but I decided after enough requests to look into these things. The absolute majority of cases would end with me being invited to some place where absolutely nothing of the ordinary ever happens,

and I just make up something as I went to convince the person how I had dealt with the horror. It became a semi-regular thing, on top of my regular job. Anna came along a few times. We always found it funny how people were so serious about nothing. Ghosts, demons, monsters, you name it, I've had people approaching me with everything possible and impossible. Most of it ended with me coming up with some story because there was nothing. There was nothing there, and I just made up a good story.

On one occasion, some good came off it. I ended up helping solve a murder case. A woman claimed she was being visited by a specter. After some shuffling around and nosing about, we ended up finding her son's remains. His hastily buried half-decomposed body. I'll concede that maybe some of this stuff is real. That time, the female intuition led us to look in the right places during this one case. The woman wanted an exorcism and ended up finding out something else entirely.

She found her son was the victim of a murder. It was hard seeing her break down like that upon finding her kid was gone. Being a father, myself, I could understand her. No one wants to lose their children, ever. This was the first time something of a note happened during my hunts for paranormal activity. I love both mom and Emma to death, even if my sister is a little hard to deal with sometimes because she has schizophrenia. It's a fun thing finding out your little sister is being chased by imaginary vampiric voices just when you outgrow teenage angst and start your adult life. I find the positive symptoms far easier to deal with than the negative ones.

Because she gets depressed, withdrawn, and incapable of holding a coherent conversation, and even all those years later and with her treatments, she's still dealing with a lifelong incurable condition that leaves her miserable and it just hurts to see. I mean, yeah, we're adults and we've our own families now, but still. We grew up close, and we remained close. Families all there is to this life, I think. I was never religious, so if it isn't for the people I care about and love, there's not much to be around for. Now, all of those things are important to explain just what happened to me. One night, actually, on Emma's 28th birthday, we were all hammered out of our minds,

including my sister who shouldn't drink but. The night went without issue. She came up to me, barely able to keep herself upright, and asked me if I believed in the supernatural. I didn't. She started giggling and my first thought she was hallucinating again. Drunk out of my ass, without thinking, I asked if she was hearing space chupacabra or something

and she just shoved me and slurred out how she had a great idea. I asked her what it was, and she said it was the funniest thing. She said I should make an online post about being a paranormal investigator just to see if anyone might bite take the bait. I could be like that paranormal investigator guy in that one movie, 1408. At the moment, I thought it was the most hilarious thing. So I did just as she suggested.

The next morning, I made a post on Facebook about being a paranormal investigator. Yes, back then people still used Facebook. At first, it yielded no results, but over time, people came out asking for advice and even inviting me to investigate. I thought it was silly, I still think so, but I decided after enough requests to look into these things. The absolute majority of cases would end with me being invited to some place where absolutely nothing of the ordinary ever happens, and I just make up something as I went to convince

the person how I had dealt with the horror. It became a semi-regular thing, on top of my regular thing. regular job. Anna came along a few times. We always found it funny how people were so serious about nothing. Ghosts, demons, monsters, you name it, I've had people approaching me with everything possible and impossible. Most of it ended with me coming up with some story because there was nothing. There was nothing there, and I just made up a good story. On one occasion, some good came off it. I ended up helping solve a murder case. A woman claimed she was being visited by a specter.

After some shuffling around and nosing about, we ended up finding her son's remains. His hastily buried half-decomposed body. I'll concede that maybe some of this stuff is real. That time, the female intuition led us to look in the right places during this one case. The woman wanted an exorcism and ended up finding out something else entirely. She found her son was the victim of a murder. It was hard seeing her break down like that upon finding her kid was gone. Being a father, myself, I could understand her.

No one wants to lose their children, ever. This was the first time something of a note happened during my hunts for paranormal activity. Until this point, I didn't know that fear could weigh as much as a black hole. I knew somewhere deep inside that it was just sleep paralysis, but it all felt so real. The hairless, deformed, dog-like things sitting on my legs with its jaw-threatening to tear me apart seemed too real. The stench of its breath, the glint in its red eyes everything seemed real. Finally, my brain awoke my body, and I jolted upwards with a scream. The silence soon took over once more, and there was only silence and the sound of my heart attempting to escape my ribcage.

I got out of bed and went outside for a smoke. I had to calm down before trying to fall asleep again, lest the stress lead me to another paralyzing nightmare scenario. Once I put out my cigarette, I was about to head back inside when I felt an icy hand touch my shoulder. I turned my head and there was nothing there. Dread washed over me once more. With my head turned, I heard a whisper. A soft, barely audible whisper at first. The basement. The sudden vocalization joined. I snorted me. I snapped my neck in the other direction only to face nothing. The whispering persisted. The basement. Follow me into the basement. For a moment, I thought I was losing my mind.

Follow me. The voice sounded so familiar, even so hushed. It felt like a voice I had heard before. The basement. Follow. I glimpsed a shadowy mass moving around the house. To the basement. It was my mum's voice, as if entranced by the fear and the familiarity of the ghastly vocalizations. My body moved, following the black ether crawling towards the basement door. Silent screams of protest echoed inside my skull, but they fell on deaf ears. I was already there. The gates into the abyss were open, ajar. I was staring into the void, and it was staring back at me. A scream bellowed out of the thonic nothingness. A heart-wrenching scream. My brothers. Without a moment's thought, I raced into the basement, nearly killing myself on the

steps that led into the belly of perdition. Only once the dead, empty silence wrapped its ethereal arms around my throat, threatening to crush it, had I realized how stupid I was rushing in like that. I was shaking, cold sweat traveled down my forehead. I felt. trapped, lost, at the mercy of some kind of great and terrible cosmic power that threatened to swallow me then and there. There was a lighter in my pocket, but I had a hard time grabbing it. Something was wrong with me, something was wrong with the entire situation. The stench of spoiled milk and eggs penetrated my nostrils, disorientating me. I was so terrified by the darkness that I could barely pull out the lighter. I heard the distinct sound of heavy breathing at the exact moment

I produced a flame. Two conjoined screams erupted in my face, one low and animalistic and the other high-pitched with utter despair. Both voices escaped from the same toothy maw attached to the vaguely human face, staring at me with starving malice. The one singular moment I could see the goddamn thing with clarity felt as if I had been staring death itself in the eye. A massive head, completely black. Deathly black, hairless, and completely blind. I didn't even have the time to react to the monster. It just grabbed me and tossed me to the floor with an inhuman display of strength. I probably landed on my neck because for a moment everything went numb, my shoulders were on fire,

and the jaws of the beast were painfully close to my face. I could feel its saliva dripping onto my skin. Everything happened so fast. I closed my eyes, hoping for a quick death, but that wouldn't come. The beast began shrieking and waved. opening my eyes, I saw a human-sized flame withering as the beast inside cried in agony. Everything it touched caught fire. Soon enough, a blazing inferno engulfed me.

The feeling returned to my extremities once I resigned to my fate. A ray of light penetrated from above. A beautiful, otherworldly glow. From within the light, echoed the voice of my mother, my actual mother, my beloved mother. It beckoned me to get up and save myself. Pushing myself off the floor felt like I was being tortured, but I had to move forward. The flame was closing in on me. It was threatening to block the staircase.

Pushing through the sensation of rods embedded in my extremities, I dragged my feet out of the basement, brushing my face on some kind of rope hanging from the basement ceiling. Thankfully, I made it outside of the house. I heard the beast shrieking and roaring behind me one last time before my body finally gave in and I collapsed. When I regained consciousness, I was in the hospital. My entire family was sitting around me. For the first time in a long time, I was truly happy to be alive. I don't know if I could live with myself if I had left my family like that.

I broke my neck and my arm is burnt, but I'm going to get surgery and I'll be as good as new in about a year. Anna and the kids were crying with joy. Emma was crying, too. I wish I could hug them all tighter, but my arms are still killing me. It was a beautiful moment. It's a shame these are so far and few in between. The strangest thing happened once Anna and Emma left the room, I overheard their conversation. John hasn't been the same since Amelia passed away.

On top of being overwhelmed with his grief, he's withdrawn and said, sounds completely unhinged sometimes. Yeah, I've noticed too. I'm pretty sure he's convinced I'm his step-sister. Oh, he was talking about all these ghost stories to me a while ago, out of the blue. Shit. I think he's like Uncle Bill. He's got the family curse. He mentioned your side of the family has had a history of mental illness years ago. Oh yeah, we thought it was behind us, because neither of us had it, nor any of our cousins. Mum was fine, too. She was fine until the cancer.

Say, Annie, what are the odds he might have tried to? I couldn't hear the rest of it, but those silly birds had to be wrong. I wasn't the one attended by the dearly departed royal servants of Osamandias. That was Emma, right, Mummy? The end.