The Vault

5.

Sleepily stepping down the stairs, Alice appeared in her nightwear. Usually she would get changed as any classy young woman should do, but why should she bother when her father barely awakes before midday she thought to herself. Besides, she had been working so hard recently, why couldn't she indulge in a bit of laziness for once.

In her sleepy state, she headed straight to the kitchen with a yawn and a stretch, before opening the pantry to a sorry state of basically empty shelves. As she was sure no one was about, she subtly swore to herself.

Coming out of the kitchen with a mug of tea, she looked up, and to her astonishment, her father was lying there, propped up against the wall and not moving.

Slamming the mug down on the table she rushed towards him, rocking his shoulders and calling out to her father.

Abraham woke with a start, and grabbed hold of her with his eyes wide open, so far open that the whites of his eyes consumed his usually distinguished hazel pupils. Shaking his head slowly, he snapped out of his panicked state, and looked at his daughter.

For a moment there was a small pause... before Alice finally spoke. "Father, what on earth are you doing passed out on the hallway floor?" She enquired.

"I... I.." He went to say he didn't remember, before a violent flashback of the voice inside his head jogged his memory. He looked up at the wall in front of him with a stern gaze. "Where's my axe?" He enquired regally.

"In the shed out front with all your other tools. Would you please answer me now," she insisted.

"It's nothing dear, please don't be alarmed, I must have just drank a little too much and had a stumble last night," he hadn't taken his gaze off the wall a single time as he spoke.

"You need to eat. There is not much left, but I can make you breakfast," Alice spoke kindly.

"No darling, you make yourself something, I will give you some money and you can go into the village to pick some things up. I'm sure there is a horse and carriage man that can help you back," he said before slowly rising off his old knees. "I'll eat later," he said with his back to her as he left for the front door.

Alice sat inside the empty living room, eating some stale bread and jam as she read over a book her father had wrote. She had read it before, but it had been one of her favourites since she was a little girl, and would often reread it.

Her father walked past the living room gripping the axe from outside the shed, but she was so engrossed in her book she didn't notice. Then, with a startling bang that snapped her out of her imagination, she looked up.

Running out into the hallway, to her eye's disbelief, her father was there, smashing at the wall he had been staring at with his axe.

"Have you lost your mind!?" She yelled.

Abraham stopped, letting go and looking over the axe hilt that protruded from the wall. He looked at his daughter with a rye little smile. "Trust me dear."

He continued to smash away, increasing the breeze that burst from within, until eventually he revealed a hollow.

Alice stepped beside him. "Well I never," she uttered in disbelief.

"I wondered why we couldn't stop that damn breeze," Abraham said while he tried to catch his breath. "This must be beneath your room!" He exclaimed.

Abraham grabbed a candle and stepped into the hole he had made. The air was extremely stale and musty inside, and it was clear it had been unexplored for many years. "Come in, it's quite safe," he beckoned to his daughter, who despite her turned nose, stepped inside in her slippers.