NaNo: The Hauntings of Garenger Manor

Homesick

Where his newfound bravery came from was uncertain, but Jonathan found himself staring down the questionable steps into the basement he had been in before. The flashlight making broad sweeps around, the radio turned up, but it seemed all was safe.

He put something in the doors path to keep it from closing on him before making the shaky way down again and observes nothing seemed different than before. The rotting crates were still barely holding on by their nails and splinters, the standing shelves were standing, and the air just smelled musty. He was making a much more careful sweep around this time, looking for any evidence of Mommy here. But it seemed his tension was for nothing, as there was nothing to be found, not even the droppings of rats.

But Jonathan paused to look at the walls a bit more. Looking at where they stopped and how they connected to the rest of the house as he knew it. He went up to the wall with the shelves and studies the slats, then dared to turn out the flashlight as he looked between the gaps.

It was a false wall, and beyond this he could see slivers of light coming from somewhere! But to get through from this portion of the house was not feasible, it would involve deconstructing both the shelves and slats alike, and create a ton of racket and explanations to Mrs. Berns. No, he would have to figure out another way.

He tried taking as many peaks through as he could, to try and figure out what was beyond, alternating between both the flashlight and natural light. Then he jumped back as he found himself staring into the face of another beyond, backing into one of the crates and scaring himself further as it all came apart.

He would not let his guard down though and kept the flashlight pointed right at the location of wall, ears burning for the sounds of an angry ghost, and felt chills on his skin. But as he heard nothing but his own gasping and the tingles was just goosebumps he realized he was not being attacked. No, the house was silent here.

Jonathan dared to get back up to that point in the wall, but as he tried to find the face, he spooked himself again and it took him a good long minute before he realized it was a mirror propped up on the other side of the wall, reflecting light back into his face with a dull sheen.

"The hell is wrong with you?" he sighed to no one but himself and hung his aching head.

Jonathan welcomed the venture back outside, there was a bird singing and the squirrels still fussing over whose tree and nuts was whose. Life. Big or small, it was a marvelous thing, and so many took it for granted. He found himself standing over the locked cellar doors with the pry bar in hand, dreading and delaying what he was to find. Ellie said her mother was in the cellar, and what he may find, or what may find him, was racing through his mind. More so: what would Mrs. Garenger do to him after ripping open the doors? Was she affected by the Door that Ellie described? He had no clue anymore.

He pulled at the latches, gave them twists but it seemed the doors were locked from inside. But once he put leverage upon the one with the locking bolts, the aged wood gave way with the pins falling inside with dull tinks, and after being sure that was the only disturbance within, Jonathan pulled the door up and over with caution. More rickety steps going in, and more crates were to be found below, but not a peep upon the radio that Mommy was disturbed. He even waved the damned thing in front of him to be sure and nearly dropped it.

The air was the same air musty air, and the crates were in just the same sad states as the others beyond the partition, but there was new things to observe here, different items upon the shelves for instance. It was mostly empty jars and jugs, a great deal broken upon the dirt floor, and tools any working man would have– ropes, timber, harnesses for animals, coal. This portion of the cellar was certainly reserved for the dirty and labor-intensive wares the couple owned. Jonathan found the offending mirror with a shake of his head, he poked around the crates, edged sacks both full and empty with caution, but still, he was not finding what he was looking for. But then again, he had no idea what it was he should have been looking for.