I wrinkled my nose at the musty smell that rose out of the hole and motioned for Mom to lead the way.
When we reached the bottom of the stairwell, I watched as Mom pushed open the creaky, wooden door that must have originally been the entrance into the basement. Its hinges were worn and decaying, but as it creakily opened, we made our way inside.
The first room was empty, all contents cleared out during the original excavation of the site. At first glance, it seemed impossible that there would be any sort of secret room. How could they have missed it when such an extensive search and clean-out of the space had been conducted the first time around? But upon entering, both of our flashlights caught a glimmer of the same crack running down the back right corner of the space.
I watched as Mom hesitantly crept forward, obviously trying her best not to get her hopes up. As she approached the crack, she reached behind to grab a chisel and hammer out of the side of her backpack. Cautiously, she placed the thin edge up against the crack and tapped the end with the hammer. Dust and small pieces of debris floated into the air. Gaining confidence at her suspicions, she worked her way down the crack, tapping every few inches. About halfway down the wall, she hit a latch, and with one hard smack the door came swinging open.
Mom took off exploring the room with her flashlight, and I stood back to scan the room with my own. Stacks of books surrounded us, and one half of the room had collapsed in on itself, blocking any source of natural light. I slowly ventured further into the room, pulling up the V-neck of my shirt until it covered my mouth to block the dust that was invading my lungs.
I shined the light up and down the room, almost dropping my flashlight when the light beam reflected off a metal object sitting in the middle of the room and into my eyes. I blinked to adjust to the sudden flash of light and stepped forward to get a better look. When I caught sight of what was propped on the center of the table I actually did drop the flashlight, and I screamed as it bounced off the floor.
It hit the hard stone with a smash, and I was immediately engulfed in darkness until Mom shined her own light in my direction.
“What on earth’s the matter? You scared me to death! Did you see a rat?”
My knees were shaking, and I couldn’t seem to respond as thoughts raced through my mind. Surely I saw that wrong. There was not a painting of me on that plaque!
I reached to place my hands on the desk in front of me, and my hands landed in a pile of dust and cobwebs that painted every surface.
“Can you hand me my flashlight, Mom? I think it rolled over near your feet.”
As soon as Mom located it and it was back in my hands, I banged on the end where the batteries were connected and managed to get the light to come back on. Slowly standing, I shined the light onto the center of the table again, and a chill ran down my spine as I looked at my own image peering back at me.
My fingers shook as I reached to grab the item. How? Why? When? A million questions swarmed through my mind as I tried to comprehend what I was seeing. The plaque was obviously centuries old. The metal was tarnished, the picture faded, and part of it had been chipped off, as if someone had inadvertently flaked part of it off many years after it had been painted.
Fear gripped my belly as I faced my mother.
“What is this? Is this some kind of joke, Mom? Have you been down here before?”
“What are you talking about?” She reached forward and grabbed the plaque out of my hands, letting out a low yelp as she looked down at the image.
“What’s going on, Mom?”
“Umm…this is just a coincidence, darling. No, I haven’t been down here before. I think it’s been a very long time since anyone’s been here. We do have Scottish ancestors, you know? You just look a lot like the woman in the painting.”
She continued to mumble comforting words, but I could see fear spread across her face. I tugged the plaque out of her hands and blew the dust off the top, revealing etchings underneath the painting of my picture.
I didn’t recognize the language, but slowly I began to sound out the words. From the moment I began to utter the strange syllables, I felt the room change.
The fear that had started in my belly moved up until it paralyzed me entirely. Small hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end.
Something pulled me toward the words, forcing me to utter them even as I tried to swallow the sounds coming from my mouth.
As I finished the string of sounds, I felt my body pull apart at the seams, spiraling me into agonizing pain. I cried out at the same time I heard my mother’s horrified scream in front of me.
I dropped to my knees as the room trembled around me. My skin was on fire, and I felt as if someone was stabbing me repeatedly.
“Bri! Bri! Oh my God, Bri!”