04/05/2025
I HEARD A BABY CRYING FROM THE BASEMENT OF OUR NEW HOUSE — BUT WE DON’T HAVE ANY CHILDREN
I'm 56, and my husband, David, and I never had children. We tried for years — fertility treatments, adoption, prayers whispered into the dark. Nothing worked. Eventually, the doctors said it was too late, and we were forced to accept the quiet that filled our home, a silence we had come to terms with.
Then, a few weeks after we moved into the old Victorian house, I heard it for the first time. A faint, desperate wail. A baby’s cry.
I shot up in bed, heart racing. "David," I whispered, nudging him awake.
He groaned, barely opening his eyes. "What is it?"
"I think… I hear a baby crying," I said, my voice trembling.
He sat up briefly, then shook his head. "There’s no baby, Ellen. Go back to sleep."
But I couldn't shake the sound. The next night, it happened again. This time, I followed the sound downstairs. It grew louder near the basement door. My pulse quickened as I reached for the doorknob. But the crying stopped. Just like that.
I searched the basement the next day, finding nothing but old brick walls and boxes. Maybe I was imagining things, I thought. But, the next night, the crying returned. When I told David, he brushed it off again.
"It's stress, Ellen," he said, his tone dismissive. But there was something in his eyes, a flicker of guilt, that made me suspicious.
One night, unable to take it any longer, I waited for him to fall asleep. With a flashlight in hand, determined to uncover the truth, I crept down to the basement. As I descended the creaky stairs, the crying grew louder. It was real.
