The Trap Door

Ash-

I’ve lived in this house for a few years now. My mother, father, and older brother have lived here longer though. It’s a beautiful Victorian-era house, with white walls and soft, brown trim.

“Ash, would you mind getting more firewood out from under the stairs? It’s getting low in here!” My mother calls from the living room.

“Of course Mother! Not a problem!” I hop up from my bed, abandoning my geometry homework, and fling myself down the hallway, sliding on my socks to the very end.

At the end of the hall is a large spiral staircase, an improvement my mother made when we first bought the house. I slide down the handrail and land with a loud, thump at the bottom. One more set of stairs to go. These are more basic, hallway-type stairs. I flick the lights, but nothing happens.

“Mother! Father! The lights are out in the basement! Do you know where a flashlight is?” I asked walking towards the living room.

“There’s one in the kitchen drawer. I have no idea how charged its batteries are though, so don’t take too long.” My father responds in a hushed voice. He’s watching the television.

“I’m just getting kindling. It takes five minutes. Thank you.” I rush into the kitchen and begin searching the junk drawer. I find the flashlight my father was talking about and take off toward the staircase.

At the bottom of the stairs, I click on the flashlight and walk to the space underneath them. Digging into the cellar, my finger catches a small latch, pulling open a small door.

“Ow! What was that? Oh! What is this?” I let my fingers trace the opening and pry it ajar. A small light is coming from inside. I turn off the flashlight and crawl in when the door creaks shut behind me. Bolt sliding home.

“Huh?” I shove on the door in a frenzied panic. It doesn’t budge. “Shoot. Looks like I’m gonna have to call Mother and have her come get me out.” I pull out my phone, and it doesn’t turn on.

“What the heck! It was fully charged right before I came downstairs!”

A message pops up on my black screen.

Welcome to your personal fantasy—a place where all your dreams come true.

As soon as I’m done reading it, it vanishes. Looking around I notice that the room is relatively small. Tube-like. I push on, things I’d rather not know about scraping against my sides as I crawl on my hands and knees. Almost on the other side, I place my hand on the ground harder than necessary. Something squirms slightly, then warm, oozing liquid pulses out in a steady stream into the spongy ground beneath me. I pull my hand back and see a small snake. Not the normal kind of snake though. This one has little razors on its spine and spits acid from its lungs when trapped.

That means I’m bleeding. Great. That’s the warm liquid. Blood. Red, hot, and sticky.

I pull my hand to my chest and inspect the damage in the brightening light.

Not bad. Most likely won’t need stitches. It’ll be fine for now.

At the end of the tunnel, I straighten up slowly and stand uneasily on the soft ground. It shifts under my feet and I realize that it’s breathing.