From the perspective of a stranger

About how I was trapped in a basement last night and managed to escape.

From the perspective of the stranger watching me last night:
I sat by the window, letting the coming storm pull the smoke from my cigarette and breath as if it wanted it, and I obliged. But below there was a black mass, a square tarp, seeming to squirm, as if it were the ground around a planted tree about to be uplifted by burrowing vermin. What was it?
Again it moved. A door, it seemed, a square beneath the square pushing up. It seemed to heave as if for breath. 
At length it rose enough that the tarp warped and beneath could be guessed a form. A human form! 
And then a struggling hand escaped the clutches of the tarp atop the storm door, and in an instant, a man, clad like a vagrant, and with the meanest facial hair, was birthed from whatever hell that escape was from. 
He burst forth cursing god's name profusely, and regaining his strength, which seemed to have been as dampened by the exertion as his sweater was gritty with the muck the tarp had funneled onto him.
At that moment the power failed, and the blackness of the village was all consuming, saving my cigarette, which came to a quick end

Author's Note

Read Me! Also check out my other stories maybe if you like this.