🌹"Boo!"🌹
“Come on, Fred,” I said. “Let’s do the attic first.”
Fred consented wordlessly. Together, we went to the small wooden stairway in the back of the upstairs hall. Why had I not gone up there before? I had to ask myself that as I looked up that small staircase.
It was a little wooden room with plain floorboards and exposed rafters. There were no mysterious trunks, or old bikes or anything to speak of. There was a small window facing the street. I hadn’t noticed that it was there before. I was beginning to doubt my observational skills. The floor was clean. Not dusty. Hm. Nice, I guess.
We were up there in the top of the house, so, I decided to check closets for hidden passages or whatever!
There were four bedrooms. Two on each side of the hall. I stood in the first doorway, just looking. I could easily imagine the sound of children here. Yeah. Children make a lot of noise on wooden floors upstairs.
Each bedroom had a small closet. Each closet was empty. There weren’t even hangers in the closets. These floors were also spotlessly clean. I thought it had been dusty up there when I was in the process of buying the place.
Fred took a look in each room, inspecting corners, looking for things only cats care about. He seemed content, making no comment.
We kind of tiptoed back downstairs to the main floor. My house was so big and so silent. Sunlight drifted into the front windows lighting only dust motes, making minuscule rainbows. If you look very carefully, you can see rainbows on them.
Fred drifted around the living room, in and out of sunbeams. A small orange soul.
If I was going to live here, I needed to get some pieces of furniture. A sofa maybe, and a couple of chairs. Even I needed somewhere to sit.
I hadn’t inspected the basement either. There is no time like the present they say. I called Fred, and he came silently to my feet, waiting. The stairway down into the basement of such a house is usually in the back of the kitchen, handy for the bringing up of supplies. And so it was.
Fred preceded me down the steep stairway. His tail stuck straight up, leading the way. I grabbed the handrail, after flipping the light switch at the top of the stairs, which had no effect. So, we were going down into a deep dark place. There were no windows in the basement. I left the door open up top to hopefully allow some light down there. It wasn’t a lot of light, but some.
This old basement had a dirt floor. I understood that it was not unusual when a house this old was built, but to my modern sensibilities, it was clammy and unpleasant. There was a faint odor of must or dry rot perhaps. I determined that I would lock the door into this basement and never use it or open it again. Just as I thought that, the door up at the top of the stairs closed firmly and the lock turned. I could sense Fred thinking, “told you so, Terry.”
I just stood there silently. I’m not a screamer, but that doesn't mean I was fine with it. I felt faint. I could barely take breath. But gradually, my eyes adjusted to the dim conditions. Little bits of light sneaked in various small cracks. There are always small cracks, especially in such an old house.
Soon, I saw that there was a door to the outside on the west side of the house because there was a door shaped line of daylight around it. Just a little bit of light . It was probably locked, but I had to try it. Fred and I needed to get out of this basement! As I made my way over there very carefully over that dirt floor, I began to smell a heavy scent of roses. My breath stopped again and my heart went flop. I froze. Then I could see Fred, almost glowing a bit heading for that basement door and I followed him over there. I felt around for a door handle and eventually located one of those faceted glass doorknobs.
“Oh, Fred,” I said. “What are we going to do?”
I rattled the doorknob. No go. Then I just pushed on it good and hard. This broke the lock which was above the doorknob loose. I had torn it out of the rotten wood of the door frame. And there we were, suddenly, out in the open. There were three concrete steps up to the ground level beyond a small square pad with a drain in the middle of it.
This didn’t solve our problem. Everything I owned in the world was in that house on the main floor, including the key to the front door. I had nothing with me. Not even my truck key, or a working phone. I couldn’t even call anyone. I wondered, off handedly, if anyone was home in any of the other houses on 2nd Ave. I decided that from now on, my keys would live in my jeans pocket, and I was going to get phone service, even if I had to use that police office phone to call someone. I was sure Mike Harald would be fine with it, even if he thought I was crazy, which I was pretty sure he already did.
But before doing anything like bothering people I didn’t know, I decided to just check the front door to see if by some chance it would open. It didn’t. It was firmly locked. "So careful, to lock doors, aren’t you, Terry," I thought to myself.
I looked up at the top where the attic window facing the street had been. There was no attic window. Why did I think I had seen one?
“Fred, we have to check the back door,” I said. Fred was good with that plan.
Then I walked around to the back over that desert ground, wondering why I had thought there was a window in the attic. I was beginning to wonder if there was an attic, truthfully.
Fortunately, there was a back door opening into the hall of the main floor. It was there, like it should be.
I closed my eyes for a moment, wished, prayed, then opened that door which by all rights should have been locked. I stood back to let Fred in first, then I followed him, as I had always done before.
Fred consented wordlessly. Together, we went to the small wooden stairway in the back of the upstairs hall. Why had I not gone up there before? I had to ask myself that as I looked up that small staircase.
It was a little wooden room with plain floorboards and exposed rafters. There were no mysterious trunks, or old bikes or anything to speak of. There was a small window facing the street. I hadn’t noticed that it was there before. I was beginning to doubt my observational skills. The floor was clean. Not dusty. Hm. Nice, I guess.
We were up there in the top of the house, so, I decided to check closets for hidden passages or whatever!
There were four bedrooms. Two on each side of the hall. I stood in the first doorway, just looking. I could easily imagine the sound of children here. Yeah. Children make a lot of noise on wooden floors upstairs.
Each bedroom had a small closet. Each closet was empty. There weren’t even hangers in the closets. These floors were also spotlessly clean. I thought it had been dusty up there when I was in the process of buying the place.
Fred took a look in each room, inspecting corners, looking for things only cats care about. He seemed content, making no comment.
We kind of tiptoed back downstairs to the main floor. My house was so big and so silent. Sunlight drifted into the front windows lighting only dust motes, making minuscule rainbows. If you look very carefully, you can see rainbows on them.
Fred drifted around the living room, in and out of sunbeams. A small orange soul.
If I was going to live here, I needed to get some pieces of furniture. A sofa maybe, and a couple of chairs. Even I needed somewhere to sit.
I hadn’t inspected the basement either. There is no time like the present they say. I called Fred, and he came silently to my feet, waiting. The stairway down into the basement of such a house is usually in the back of the kitchen, handy for the bringing up of supplies. And so it was.
Fred preceded me down the steep stairway. His tail stuck straight up, leading the way. I grabbed the handrail, after flipping the light switch at the top of the stairs, which had no effect. So, we were going down into a deep dark place. There were no windows in the basement. I left the door open up top to hopefully allow some light down there. It wasn’t a lot of light, but some.
This old basement had a dirt floor. I understood that it was not unusual when a house this old was built, but to my modern sensibilities, it was clammy and unpleasant. There was a faint odor of must or dry rot perhaps. I determined that I would lock the door into this basement and never use it or open it again. Just as I thought that, the door up at the top of the stairs closed firmly and the lock turned. I could sense Fred thinking, “told you so, Terry.”
I just stood there silently. I’m not a screamer, but that doesn't mean I was fine with it. I felt faint. I could barely take breath. But gradually, my eyes adjusted to the dim conditions. Little bits of light sneaked in various small cracks. There are always small cracks, especially in such an old house.
Soon, I saw that there was a door to the outside on the west side of the house because there was a door shaped line of daylight around it. Just a little bit of light . It was probably locked, but I had to try it. Fred and I needed to get out of this basement! As I made my way over there very carefully over that dirt floor, I began to smell a heavy scent of roses. My breath stopped again and my heart went flop. I froze. Then I could see Fred, almost glowing a bit heading for that basement door and I followed him over there. I felt around for a door handle and eventually located one of those faceted glass doorknobs.
“Oh, Fred,” I said. “What are we going to do?”
I rattled the doorknob. No go. Then I just pushed on it good and hard. This broke the lock which was above the doorknob loose. I had torn it out of the rotten wood of the door frame. And there we were, suddenly, out in the open. There were three concrete steps up to the ground level beyond a small square pad with a drain in the middle of it.
This didn’t solve our problem. Everything I owned in the world was in that house on the main floor, including the key to the front door. I had nothing with me. Not even my truck key, or a working phone. I couldn’t even call anyone. I wondered, off handedly, if anyone was home in any of the other houses on 2nd Ave. I decided that from now on, my keys would live in my jeans pocket, and I was going to get phone service, even if I had to use that police office phone to call someone. I was sure Mike Harald would be fine with it, even if he thought I was crazy, which I was pretty sure he already did.
But before doing anything like bothering people I didn’t know, I decided to just check the front door to see if by some chance it would open. It didn’t. It was firmly locked. "So careful, to lock doors, aren’t you, Terry," I thought to myself.
I looked up at the top where the attic window facing the street had been. There was no attic window. Why did I think I had seen one?
“Fred, we have to check the back door,” I said. Fred was good with that plan.
Then I walked around to the back over that desert ground, wondering why I had thought there was a window in the attic. I was beginning to wonder if there was an attic, truthfully.
Fortunately, there was a back door opening into the hall of the main floor. It was there, like it should be.
I closed my eyes for a moment, wished, prayed, then opened that door which by all rights should have been locked. I stood back to let Fred in first, then I followed him, as I had always done before.
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