The Darkness Below

Stunned, I stared at the mantel. It jutted into the room, leaving a dark space where it had sat atop the fireplace. I pushed up from the floor and peered into this cavity. What in the world was going on? Why was there a lever inside the firebox and why have that attached to the mantel in some way?  

Shining my flashlight into the dusty, cobwebby space left by the mantel, I could see very little. There seemed to be a ledge, like a long, narrow shelf. I could see top, bottom, sides and back of this cavity.  Something glittered in the beam of the flashlight, something that lay on the shelf. I touched it and it came loose under my fingers. Carefully, I picked it up and brought it into the room.

It was a small, brass key. A key in a hidden cavity in my fireplace? This was sounding like one of those mysteries I was so fond of writing, but this was my own house, not some make-believe, ghostly mansion conjured up by my imagination. And, there was no eerie moonlight, just a dark and noisy storm battering the coast.

I dusted off my shirt and pants and went back to the kitchen, taking the key with me. Another cup of hot coffee was definitely in order. Maybe the jolt of caffeine would help me make sense of this. Or, maybe I’d wake up and find I had dreamed the whole thing. A key was for opening locks. But, why would it be hidden? And, what in the world would it open? I had been through every closet and every room in my house, and nothing had been locked away. Perhaps the key was to a lock in the garage, the small, detached building behind my house where my car sat. 

Outside, the storm gathered renewed energy while the walls of my house shuddered with each new gust. No way was I willing to battle the wind and rain to go out. If the garage was involved, it would just have to wait until danger of being swept into the sea had passed. I stared at the key which lay innocently on the table by my cup. “What are you supposed to open?” I muttered. “And, why were you hidden in the fireplace and, who in the world put you there?”

The key had no answer, so I went back to the mantel and stared at it. No idea popped out at me. I tried to push the mantel back into place, but it refused to budge. Fine! Would I have to live with a fireplace that was partially broken? Maybe the ring inside the firebox was the answer. If I pulled on it again, perhaps it would trigger a mechanism that would fix things.

Gingerly, I bent down, probed until I found the ring, and pulled. With more creaking and groaning, the mantel moved, not back into place, but it slid back even more. I didn’t need my flashlight to see that it had uncovered a small door. An opening, about four feet tall and four feet wide lay before me.