The Father. The Mother. The Son. The Daughter.

When Gene was only 7 years old he had a pet bunny called Miffy. Like every pet, one day Miffy died. Like every boy, that day Gene cried. Death was understandable but hard to conceptualise. It didn’t really feel like death at all. More of a separation. Gene split away from something he loved. From something that loved him. That was the first time… Do I want that to happen again? Do I want to spend the rest of my life cut off from what I love?

Gene felt Zoe’s hug. It wasn’t a hug. But he felt it as one. He pushed Zoe off of him and turned to face her. Looking in the house once more. “Ok.” Zoe looked up and grinned from ear to ear. “Just the basement though ok. We’ve spent too much time here already, and mum and dad will probably start worrying about us if we stay too long.”

“Of course they will!” Zoe said, beaming with excitement. She ran into the living room, not even giving Gene the chance to find his phone. We’re here to film a video, it’s not a vacation. He smiled. “Come on Gene. This way.” Gene followed her into the living room. As Gene enters the room, Zoe throws his phone at him. He initially fumbles the phone but catches it onto his leg the last second, stopping it from hitting the floor. “Found it.”

“Don’t just throw it at me! If you had broken it you would have had to buy me a new one.” Zoe shrugged and paced around the living room. There weren’t any stairs or ladders that could have led to a basement of any kind. “Why are we here? Where’s the basement?”

“One sec.” As she walked she pressed slightly on the floorboards. Some sagged while others stayed rigid. You could really tell which were rotting. Eventually she found a few of them bunched up together, all mouldy and horrible. It must have been some kind of water damage. Zoe pressed on the spot a little harder and then looked at Gene.

“You’re recording right?” She smiled. Gene nodded.

She then jumped onto the weak spot. The floorboards naturally crumbled under the pressure and Zoe was eaten. Swallowed whole by the hole she created. “Zoe!” Gene ran up to the hole but was cautious once he got near. Not thinking it would be wise if he were to fall in too. Thankfully they had his phone so if they needed medical assistance they could get it. “Are you ok?” He shouted down the hole. It was completely dark inside and Gene couldn’t see Zoe.

“Could you use your phone's light? It’s dark down here.” Zoe’s voice came out from the darkness.

“You’re ok?”

“Light please!” Gene turned the flashlight on his phone and pointed it down into the hole, searching for Zoe. Once the light reached her, she was standing still with a grin on her face. Arms lifted up like she was pretending to be a monster. “Boo!”

Gene reacted with a sigh. A sigh of relief. But also a sigh of frustration. “You actually scared me. You can’t do that.”

“That’s just because you’re a pussy. Now get down here, it’s cool.” Which one of your friends at school taught you that kind of language? Gene lowered himself into the hole. As soon as his feet hit the ground he knew what Zoe’s twisted idea of ‘cool’ was. It was almost the same consistency of sewage water but stickier somehow. It almost attached itself to his leg like goop. Once he had gotten down from the living room, he considered that it might have been a mistake. The fall was large enough that it wasn’t possible to get back up. We’re stuck again. Zoe…

“Are you trapping me in the house again?” Gene said. Pointing the flashlight directly at her like a cop interrogating a criminal.

“Hey, you chose to come down here.” She dodged the phone’s flashlight and grabbed his arm. Directing it forward through the basement. “Plus you wanted to leave a second ago and changed your mind. Really all this is your fault.” I guess that’s true. Gene was done with arguing. They’d just record the video and get out. How hard can that be? Zoe and Gene walked down the basement. It was more like an underground tunnel system than a regular basement. System wouldn’t be the right word. The tunnel didn’t seem to diverge. I didn’t even seem to turn either. The tunnels themselves were not particularly thin but they were noticeably vacant. It didn’t seem like a place that was seriously used for any kind of storage.

“What’s meant to be so scary about this basement anyway?” Said Gene.

“We’re recording! You can’t be like that while we’re recording. And it’s scary because it’s a basement. All basements are scary, especially ones with broken sewage.” Gene did think that was scary. But it was less of the ghost type of scary but more of the ‘What if I got trench foot and died’ kind of scary. But there wasn’t much option now. All they could do was walk forward.

After a few minutes of walking they finally came across something different. Something different than the blank, rocky walls. Something different than the rotten floorboards above them. Something different than the goo underneath them. Or maybe those two weren’t so different.

It was wax.

A row of wax statues lined the walls. They couldn’t see how many there were. The line of them just extended out into the darkness. “What the hell.” Gene spoke out loud. This wasn’t for the camera. He went up to the first statue and inspected it. They seemed familiar but he couldn’t place who. It didn’t help that the statue was a mess. It was as if he had two left feet. And his nose was in the wrong place. Whoever made it was a beginner. Batter than what I could do though. Gene then inspected the next one, this time a woman. Her mistakes were blatant too. Clothes on backwards. Face contorted in ways that almost hurt to look at. Gene went to the next, this time a young boy. Similar problems plagued this statue too, as did the little girl next to him that held his hand.

“Rejects.”

Gene jumped from Zoe’s sudden voice. “They’re rejects. You can tell.”

“How can you tell?”

“An artist can always tell.”

“You’re an artist?”

“When I want to be. I like to paint sometimes.” Gene then finally understood why he recognised them. Each one was a member of the Papillion family. The Father. The Mother. The Son. The Daughter. He moved the flashlight to the wax statues up ahead and he could tell they were all the same. The same people in the same order. The Father. The Mother. The Son. The Daughter. “Come on, let’s go.” Zoe urged Gene to keep going and Gene obliged but did not respond. He was deep into thought. As they walked they kept passing the statues.

The Father. The Mother. The Son. The Daughter.

“Hey Zoe.” Said Gene. They kept walking.

“What is it?”

“Stop for a second.” They kept walking.

“Why?” She kept walking.

“Just for a second. I wanna check something.” Zoe stopped.

She turned around and as she did Gene’s finger poked hard into her cheek.

“What? What are you doing? That hurts you know.” Gene took his finger off of her face and looked down at it. It had a white stain on it. You could almost believe it was some kind of makeup but that wasn’t the case. Gene could tell. It was on the forefront of his mind now.

It was wax.

“I don’t… have a sister, do I?”