Pawlmoor

October 31st

When we first moved here, I was so mad. Really. I threw a fit, made a dramatic display of goodbyes to all my friends back home. I literally cried the whole way here. Pawlmoor Estates. Who would have thought? Of course, no one told me we were moving into an estate. It sure looked more like a palace to me. 

We have our own house on the grounds. Our house is the biggest single-family house I've ever seen, but it's not even the main house. Mom says there are other families in other houses on the estate. There aren't any within view. So, when she first told me that, I thought she was just trying to make me feel better in her weird mom way. 

To be fair, when she said it, she was trying to get me to leave my new room, a room I absolutely fell in love with. For the first few days I was mainly just determined to get my way. Force them to move us back home, back to my friends. If I'm going to be completely honest, when no one was around, I began to explore my room, then the house. It was... Well... An education. 

I'm not a spoiled brat, for the most part. I don't need much so I don't ask for much. I'm not known for getting into trouble. My folks are pretty accommodating, usually. I just wanted to get my own way. Until the fifth day of house exploration, that's when I realized: this place is way better. 

Because I wouldn't come out, I hadn't met anyone else. I would look out the window while holed up in my room and the only people I saw come and go were my own family. Oh, and some guy on the first day who had to lead us to the house. Aside from that, everyone else seemed mythical, imaginary. 

Every time my parents left and my siblings went to school or visited "other homes" on the grounds, I snuck out of my room and started to explore. They didn't need to know that I was finding some excitement here. I felt like an explorer, with my very own expedition. Being quiet about what I was doing, while putting up a front about how deeply unhappy I was, just made it all the more adventurous. 

I finally had built up the courage to explore the basement... On my own... I couldn't explain exactly why, but something about dark, dingy basements in strange older houses seems to be the perfect scene to strike fear into almost any heart. This place was different, though. 

From the top of the stairs, I gently opened the door and flipped on the light. It's a pretty bright bulb so the place lit right up. The wall down the left side of the stair is wood-paneled, warm, inviting. The right side offers a detailed banister. The bottom is carpeted. I slowly drifted down. As I passed below where the floor became the ceiling, I saw what looks like a living room. As I got to the bottom, I saw the biggest TV I could never have imagined! It was bigger than me! Why didn't they show me this room first?! 

There is a hall that leads off the main room. There's a small half bath off to the right, about halfway down the hall. At the end of the corridor is a little bedroom. Maybe the staff are supposed to have a live-in maid or something? This is such a weird place. But it's also intriguing. So, I first explore the bedroom.

There are just a few pieces of furniture; a chair, bed, wardrobe, a dresser, two nightstands. They're nice pieces. The wood looks almost alive. I couldn't help myself, I had to feel it and check all the drawers. Everything is empty. Looking back, I'm glad that the room wasn't in use by someone. I get extremely livid when my brother and sister go into my room. 

But all in all, it's just a very nice basement bedroom. There are long horizontal windows at the top of the room that have the cutest little curtains. It reminds me of Alice in Wonderland. I just had to make sure there weren't any portals to far off lands hidden behind them. Sadly, they're just really nice little windows. They look out onto the back garden. I had to use the chair to get a good look out. Not bad. It could be better, but respectable, for a basement bedroom. 

I went next to the little bathroom. There's just a pedestal sink, mirror, and toilet. It's nothing to write home about. The mirror isn't even a medicine cabinet. It's just stuck to the wall. After giving it the general once over, I decide it's time to check out that TV room. I rush out to the main room.

There's a couch in front of two rows of theatre chairs. On the left side of the room are bookcases that are packed and overflowing. There's a writing desk in a nook under the stair on the opposite side. Behind the chair and desk is a tall pantry cupboard. It has a lot of jams and sauces and other jarred, canned and boxed foods. I moved some items and knocked on the back. Nothing. Just a normal cupboard.

I looked over to the desk and a little computer chair on wheels was pushed into it. I pulled it back and took a seat while I went through the four little drawers. It's well-stocked, but everything in it is new. Good to know. I had a feeling I'll be spending a lot of time down here. Maybe Mom and Dad might let me make this my room, I thought to myself. We'll see. I just had to think of a tactful way to ask. Maybe they plan to hire someone. Best not to get too excited at the idea, I figure. Just in case.

Satisfied I had thoroughly checked out the little nook I went out to the TV area again. Ok, now I could take my time. I look around for a remote control of some kind. In front of the sofa is a coffee table, but all that's on it are some empty coasters. I check in the pillows of the Chesterfield, no remote. Since the bookshelves are littered with odds and ends, I figure maybe it's over there.

After digging through everything, it seemed clear that someone had this space nicely arranged at some point. Once I got passed all the weird flotsam and jetsam, I could see there were books back there, all lined up, two rows, one stacked on top of another. But it's all blocked by the junk in front of it. I couldn't even tell you what half the stuff is. It's like broken pieces of weird equipment I probably don't know the names of anyway. And broken old toys, like wooden, carved horses and trucks and cars, an abacus. Weird beads kept spilling out from who knows where. It's a mess.

I'll have to do something about this. I decided to go upstairs to get a garbage bag or seven. I was just about to set down the bits and pieces I'd been trying to identify when I heard a whisper. "Hey you. Yeah. Pull the third book from the end." I stopped dead. What the absolute.... "Go on, it's ok. I'm Aleister. I live on the grounds. There's a tunnel back here. All the houses are connected. Come on. Just pull the book."

I dropped the fragments and slowly walked over to the bookcase closest to the wall with the giant TV. I started to shuffle the debris of stuff to expose the books. "Over one more. Yeah, that one" Aleister said. I put my hand on the book and froze. 

What am I doing? This is a bad idea. "Hey, Al, how do I know you're not some crazy guy," I called out hoping I was facing the right way. I could hear him very clearly but his voice seemed to come through the speakers in the ceiling, so I wasn't exactly sure if I was near where he was. He could see me, apparently. 

"Well, I'm only seventeen and I probably don't sound like, super old, so what do you think?" "You gotta start some-time, Al," I yelled back. "OK, fine. Have it your way," Al said. I waited for what felt like an eternity, frozen in place, hyperaware that someone might be watching me.

"You know this is creepy, right," I bellowed. "Well, it's not like you wanted to come out of your room and meet anyone. So, whatever, new girl. I'm out, ok. Sorry to bother you. Some people..." his voice trailed off. Completely without thought, I pulled the book. The pantry across the room glided out, pressing its face to the wall. For a moment I thought this was it, I just opened the door to my doom. But when nothing happened, my curiosity got the better of me. 

I crept to the doorway and slowly tried to look in from the side. I watch movies, I know not to present my face as an offering to the unknown. There's a light that highlights the stone wall. It isn't an old, dingy, creepy stone wall. It looks clean, oddly, in like-new condition. As I look further down the hall, I see it opens into a room. I move with caution towards it. I saw a shadow move and had to stop myself from running back up the stairs. Aleister was there, dumb, dumb, dumb. He's not hiding. He pretty much announced himself.

"I'm not coming in there, " I said, trying to sound fierce. Aleister walked into the doorway where I could see him and waved, flashing a big, toothy smile. I was kind of shocked that he had this cute, nerdish quality to him. He had friendly eyes and a disarming smile. "Hi," he said brightly and put his hand out for a handshake. OK, I could live with a handshake. "Hi," I said kind of awkwardly as he shook my hand. He had this crazy firm grip and my hand probably felt like a wet fish to him. I didn't even squeeze. I floundered... How embarrassing, I thought.

"So, I'm kind of the 'welcome wagon'. No one else came because we weren't sure what your deal is. So, we figured one person to offer an invitation might be best," he casually opened a little fridge behind a wall panel and took out two bottles of water. "Who's we," I asked as I look around the room. 

First of all, it's a round room. Weird, right? There are three entrances, including the one I came through on one side. The other side has a kitchen island thing with a bunch of stools around it. The panel Al had opened was right next to the island. There's some other furniture scattered around a fireplace in the wall, big, cozy chairs, some side tables. There are tapestries higher up. It is basement-level, I reminded myself. The ceiling isn't a ceiling so much as a skylight. At least, it looks like glass and light pours from it. Where does that come out, I wonder.

"We, the other kids that live here on the Estate. I could name them all if you want..." He eyed me, waiting for me to stop looking up. I could see him out of the corner of my eye. I didn't want to look directly at him. There's something almost regal about him. It's as if he glows. "No, that's ok. I get it," I sighed and finally looked over. He held out one of the water bottles. "This place is pretty cool," I said taking the water bottle and cracking open the lid.

"As I said, all the homes are connected here, in this room. There's an exit, too. Not sure why they built it like that, but I can't say it's not kind of cool, right," he sank onto one of the pillow-topped stools. "So, my mom says you're seventeen, too," Al threw out. "Um, yeah, I am. Just graduated, doing my thing, feeling a little... Out of touch, you know," I said. He just smiled and gave a faint nod. I went on, "I thought I wanted to stay where we were, but really, this place is nuts. It's so big! I honestly didn't believe my Mom when she said other people lived on the estate. But this... Just... Wow! I can't believe I was being so stubborn."

He smirked and took a sip of his water. "You wouldn't believe the fit I pitched about coming here. I feel so bad. My parents think I've been holed up in my room this whole time," I continued, hoping he would say something. He seemed chatty enough before. "You're right about that," he said, breaking into laughter. "What? WHAT? What do you mean," I felt frantic and silly and ashamed all at once. What had they been telling people? I mean, not that I didn't deserve it but still. Parents. 

"They just said you hadn't left your room because you missed your friends. It's not so bad, you know. At least they didn't say they had to keep you chained in the attic and fed you squirrels or something," he said, laughing harder now. He was laughing at me, I thought. It took a moment to fully process. Ok, yeah, maybe I was being a drama llama. Laughter is way better than anger.

"So, were you guys betting if I was emo," I said, starting to laugh a little, myself. He slipped off his stool howling and holding his stomach. "Gods, no! But I wish we had! We just thought you were anti-social," he barked through his fit of crowing. His eyes were watering. "It's not that funny," I said, giving him a weird look. I was still entertained. He's a bit infectious in that respect. 

"I'm sorry, sorry" he said, winded and slowly calming bit by bit. He wiped his eyes and placed himself back on the stool. He gave a half giggle half sigh. "I'm glad to see you have a sense of humor. It's nice to meet you, um" he trailed off. I hadn't even told him my name! I felt like a complete idiot. "Oh, I'm Tes. It's short for Tesla, but don't call me that. I'm not a car and I never plan to be one, thanks." He started laughing again. After a few breaths, he said "It really is great to meet you. You're going to like the other kids."

"How many others," I asked. "Our age?" I nodded. "About 12 of us are 17, 13 including you," he said warmly. "But all in all, there's probably a total of about 27 kids. Not including your family." "Cool," it came out awkward and weird like I was trying too hard. So, I decided to let him do the talking.

"So," he went on," The other kids our age usually meet down here most nights. Sometimes we go out, of course. But in the evenings, our parents know we all come down here and do our thing. They have these stupid names for each group of kids, they call us teens "the gang" as if we're scary or something. Oxymoron, my Dad's full of those." Then he spoke in a lower, more conspiratorial tone, "Honestly, I used to hate it but I've gotten used to it and kind of like it now. But don't tell anyone, okay," he winked. 

We had a good laugh and spoke for a little while longer when finally I realized that down there it's hard to tell the time. "What time is it? Do you have a watch or something," I asked. "Oh, sure," he checked his wrist, "Almost 4:30, why?" I jumped up! "My folks'll be home soon! I have to get back upstairs," I said, a little worried about telling them the truth. This place wasn't the worst place on earth.

"Oh, yeah, sure. No problem," he said, still cheerful. "So, before you go back up, check the underside of the coffee table, ok?" "Under.... the coffee table? What is it," I was intrigued. "Wow, Tes, wow, I'm hurt," he put his hands to his heart and play fell into the wall before starting to giggle a bit again. "Fine you brat, it's a book. That's all, nothing sinister. It's just my way of saying welcome," he flashed that smile and I melted a little. "Oh, ok. Sorry to ruin the surprise, but thank you, Al, that's unexpectedly thoughtful." 

We said a quick "see ya later" and I went to check out the coffee table. Sure enough, underneath is a box that slides out, a hidden drawer you pull from the bottom. The drawer is bigger than I expected. A large leather-bound journal with a clasp to secure it closed lay inside. It's beautiful. Inside the cover is a well-honed artistic script that reads: La Grimoire, From the Library of Aleister Pawlmoore, given with the hopes that you put your best of intentions inside.

I was so awed by its grandeur, I hugged it to my heart. Then, I went up, hid it under my comforter, then went to start dinner. It was time for a proper apology to my family. Even the twins. This place is the adventure I didn't know I needed.