This is a scene from my current WIP, The House That Silas Built. In it, the MC, Sarah, is exploring the basement. Sarah’s main ability is that she can experience something that happened at the location in the past. The objective was to add as many sensory details as possible.

The basement looked the same as last time. Inventory may have moved in or out in the area they used for storage, but nothing else had changed.

She’d forgotten to bring a flashlight and her phone battery was low, so she stuck to areas where the lights reached. It was pretty murky where the old workshop had been. Until it wasn’t.

The air bit. Breathy fog came out of her mouth. A sweet, slightly smoky odor wafted over the damp, slightly rotten background odor.

A man measured, then marked a planks of wood. Little wisps of dingy blonde hair escaped below a thick green-black plaid cap with ear flaps. An oversized flannel in blue and gray with worn-through elbows covered a dingy white undershirt. The flannel’s cuffs were unbuttoned and rolled up to expose more of the undershirt. He wore fingerless gloves with frayed edges and two knuckles missing.

Once he had a good sized stack of lumber, he inspected them once more. Then, with a high-pitched squeal, a table saw spun up to speed. A faint burnt smell added to the ambiance.

Using a jig, he cut each plank to the same length. Then he dusted and looked at them again. The air hung with dust.

With the saw silent, a jazzy tune crackled out of a tiny speaker. He adjusted a small transistor radio on the shelf behind him and the tune was a bit clearer.

He cleared the work table and laid an old bedsheet atop it. Then he put down the boards, looked at them, re-arranged a few and coughed. He repeated the process several times.

Once satisfied, he got out clamps and a glue pot. Working two at a time, he painted glue on the matching sides, put the boards in the clamps and proceeded to the next. Once all were glued, he tightened the clamps, turned off the radio and lights, and left.

And the basement was again dark and warmer. The sawdust smell was gone, replaced by a faint odor of fungus. The work table, piled high with junk, was still there, but the table saw and clamps were not. The table if it was still any good might make a good addition to the studio. More light was needed first. And a good dust mask.

“Oops. Sorry. You know my eyes aren’t as good as yours.” She nearly tripped on the gray cat. It scooted away, but continued to follow at a discrete distance.