The Secret Basement

Hi, I’m Rick Duncan. I just graduated from the eighth grade and I’m spending a couple of weeks with Grandma.

Grandpa died two years ago, but Grandma still lives in their farmhouse. She is in her upper fifties and wants to continue her rural lifestyle as long as she is able.

Dad helped her sell most of the farmland, leaving Grandma with about two acres. That allows her to maintain a sizeable food garden and her chicken coop. She also has a decent-sized garage for her car and a small tractor to cultivate her garden.

I’m old enough now to help with some muscular chores, such as reinforcing her hastily built fences and some repairs to the chicken coop and garage.

However, I’m really interested in something that never was explained. About a year before he died, I saw Grandpa walk into the small office where he did his bookkeeping and estimating his crops and cattle breeding and such. Grandpa didn’t know that I saw him go into the office, so I thought I would surprise him by tiptoeing down the hall, planning to jump in and say, “Boo!” But when I looked in the office, Grandpa wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

When I asked him about it later, he just said, “I did my magical disappearing act,” and he said it in a way that said I shouldn’t ask any more questions. So, I didn’t.

But now, I’m in the house alone while Grandma is gathering the morning’s eggs. I decided to explore Grandpa’s office. His rolltop desk is there along with his old wooden swivel chair and a couple of other wooden chairs. And the wall opposite the desk had wood paneling, unlike all the other walls in the house that had plaster or sheetrock.

I’d never studied panel construction before, but I noticed there were 24” sections of paneling and 1” x 2” strips of wood to cover the seams between panel sections.

Also, I had always been fascinated with the picture hanging on the paneled wall. The picture was painted on a mirror rather than on canvas. I looked at that picture and thought, “Hmm, the picture isn’t straight. It’s slightly crooked to the left.” When I reached to straighten it, I discovered that it was not hanging on the wall, but instead it was mounted directly to the wall in its center. As I twisted the picture to the right, I over-compensated and turned it too far. That’s when a section of the wood paneling on the right side of the room swung open inside the wall.

That section of the panel was obviously on a hinge like a door. So, I pushed the door open enough to walk inside the wall. When I stepped through the opening, I could see the mechanism to open the door from the inside. I also noticed that the mirror of the picture was actually a two-way mirror that allowed me to see if anyone was in the office before opening the door to exit.

I turned on a light switch and saw stairs leading down to what must be a basement. I thought, “I wonder what’s down there.” I pushed the door shut and went downstairs. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw another switch, so I flipped it on to light up the basement.

I saw an old table covered with notebooks and ledgers. I picked up one of the ledgers and flipped through its pages. I immediately noticed, “That’s Grandpa's meticulous handwriting.” The entries detailed crop yields, livestock breeding records, and expenses.”

I looked around the basement further, and my eyes fell upon a large, rolled-up sheet of paper tucked away on a dusty shelf in the corner. I carefully unrolled the paper to discover a detailed map of the property surrounding the farmhouse.

The map was marked with precise notes, highlighting various areas with mysterious symbols. My heart raced as I realized the map seemed to identify secret underground storage units scattered around the farmhouse, garage and chicken coop.

I looked around, wondering what else is down here. That’s when I noticed a door under the stairs. When I tried to open the door, it was locked. “I wonder where the key is.” I looked around but I couldn’t find a key anywhere.

I realized that Grandpa's "magical disappearing act" was more than just a playful comment. The hidden basement was a gateway to a world of secrets that he had kept from the rest of the family.

“Wait a minute,” I thought to myself. “Does Grandma know about this secret basement? “I have to find out… someway…. Someway without revealing this secret in case she doesn’t know. I’ll have to come up with a plan to find out.

“In the meantime, I need to get out of here before she starts looking for me.”

I quietly tiptoed up the stairs and back to the secret door, turning off the lights behind me. I looked through the two-way mirror to be sure Grandma wasn’t in the office, and then I opened the hidden door.

I noticed a handle-like mechanism sticking out on the inside of the door. When I pushed on it, one of the 1” x 2” lumber strips that covered the seam between two panel sections was pushed out away from the wall. “Of course,” I thought. “That strip can be used as a handle to pull the door shut,” which I did. And after the door shut, I was able to push that strip back into place to cover the seam between the sections of paneling. “Grandpa thought of everything!”

When I went to the kitchen, Grandma was placing the gathered eggs into egg cartons. This afternoon, she will deliver some of the eggs to her nearby neighbors. Throughout the week, she would share her eggs with other neighbors. And in turn, some of them baked fresh bread or made their own butter, cheese, sausage and such that they would share with Grandma and the other neighbors. That was the country way of everyone helping each other out.

“Hi, Grandma. What do you need me to do today?”

“Rick, you’ve already done so much. Why don’t you rest today. Maybe you can go with me to deliver eggs to the Reynolds farm after lunch.”

“That sounds good to me,” I said.

At that point I thought of a way to approach Grandma about the secret basement. But before I did, I thought, “If that mirror picture was hanging crooked, how did it get that way? When I twisted the picture to the right, it was a tight fit, which meant that vibrations didn’t cause it to be crooked. Someone had to twist the picture too far to the left. And that someone had to be Grandma.”

So, I decided to test my conclusion by saying, “While you were gathering eggs, I took a look inside Grandpa’s office.”

“Oh?” she said with a slight nervousness in her voice.

“Yeah, and when I looked at that picture, the one that’s painted on a mirror, it was crooked to the left,” and then I paused to see her reaction.

“Really?” she said with more apprehension.

Now I knew that she knew about the basement. So, I said, “When I tried to straighten the picture, I twisted it too far to the right, and a secret door in the wall opened.”

Grandma's face turned pale, and her hands trembled slightly as she grabbed her apron. After a moment of silence, she sighed deeply.

“Rick,” she began, her voice heavy with emotion, “there are some things in this old house that were meant to stay hidden for a reason. Your grandpa and I... we made a promise to keep certain secrets safe.”

I could see the conflict in her eyes, as she struggled between protecting the secret and trusting me with the truth. She took a deep breath and continued, “There's a lot you don't know about our family history, about what lies beneath this house. But now that you’ve discovered that secret door, I suppose you should know everything.”

With that, Grandma wiped her hands on her apron and motioned for me to follow her. Together, we walked towards Grandpa's office. The air was thick with anticipation and unspoken questions.

As we stepped into the office, Grandma hesitated for a moment before reaching for the picture on the wall. Then with a simple twist, she opened the hidden door.

“Rick,” Grandma said softly, “this house has been in our family for generations, and with it, the secrets that have shaped our lives.”

As we started down the stairs, Grandma continued, “Your great-grandfather was an inventor, a man with a brilliant mind and a heart full of dreams. He built this basement to hide his greatest creation—a machine that could change the course of time.”

I stared at her, incredulously, as she went on, “He knew the power of his invention, and knew it could be dangerous in the wrong hands. So, he swore to protect it and passed on that oath to your grandfather and me.”

“Grandma,” I began, “I’ve already seen most of the things that are in plain sight down here. But I don’t know what’s behind this locked door.”

“Behind that door is the biggest secret of all,” she said. “But the lock is fake.” Then she touched a hidden button behind the bottom edge of the stairs and the door opened, revealing a strange looking device.

“This,” she said, “is a time machine. It's why we've kept the basement a secret all these years. We knew it had to be protected, but now it's time for you to understand its significance. Our family's legacy is tied to this invention, and it’s now your responsibility to safeguard it.”

She looked at me with a mixture of hope and fear. The weight of our family's history settled on my shoulders, and I knew that my life was about to change forever.

Finally, Grandma took a deep breath and continued. “This machine was designed to explore the past and the future. Your great-grandfather was a visionary, but he also understood the immense responsibility that came with such power.”

Her fingers traced the delicate curves of the device as she continued, “He made sure that only those who truly grasped the significance of their actions could use it. So, he created a specific sequence of actions to be completed before the machine could be used. Sort of like the combination to a safe. It was a way to ensure the right person would be entrusted with this knowledge.”

She turned to face me, her eyes filled with an earnest intensity. “The time machine is not just a tool; it's a testament to our family's ingenuity and moral compass. The choices you make with it will ripple through time. Even a seemingly insignificant change of events could have a domino effect that could affect countless lives. That’s why it is crucial to approach it with wisdom and caution.”

I nodded, trying to absorb the gravity of her words. Grandma placed a hand on my shoulder. “I believe in you, Rick. You have the moral strength and the heart to honor our family's legacy. But remember, the past and future are delicate, and the machine must be used sparingly and with the utmost care.”

With that, she stepped back and allowed me to take in the sight of the time machine once more. A pulsating light seemed to call out to me, promising adventures and discoveries beyond imagination. I knew that the journey ahead would be filled with challenges, but with Grandma's guidance and the weight of our family's history behind me, I felt ready to face whatever lay ahead.

I looked at Grandma, my mind swirling with questions, but one stood out the most. “Did Great-Grandpa or Grandpa ever use the machine to change anything in the past?”

Grandma's eyes softened, and she sighed deeply, as if the weight of the years rested on her shoulders. “Your Great-Grandfather was a wise man. He understood that the consequences of altering the past were unpredictable and could be catastrophic. He did use the machine, but only for observation. He wanted to understand the past, but he never changed anything.”

She paused, letting her words sink in, then continued. “As for your Grandpa, he was much like your Great-Grandfather—curious and intelligent. He too respected the power of the machine and the oath we all took to protect it. He used it sparingly and never with the intention of altering history. They both believed that the past should remain untouched.”

I nodded, trying to wrap my head around the enormity of their restraint. Needing to be sure, I asked, “So, they never changed anything?”

Grandma shook her head. “No, dear. They understood that their duty was to safeguard the past and to learn from it. They knew that the machine was not a tool for personal gain or meddling with destiny. That restraint has been a testament to our family's integrity and wisdom.”

I then asked, “That light is pulsating. How is this machine powered?”

“Your Great-Grandfather was truly ahead of his time,” she replied. “He developed a means to capture solar power. On that shelf is a map of where the solar sensors are located. But again, that is just as much a secret as the time machine.”

All her words filled me with a sense of pride. The legacy of my Great-Grandfather and Grandpa was now mine to uphold. I looked at the time machine and the power it held. I began to understand and accept the responsibility that I now had to maintain.

Grandma seemed to sense my commitment, and she smiled at me, her eyes twinkling as she said, “Remember, Rick, the true power of the machine lies not in changing the past, but in understanding it. Use it wisely and honor our family's legacy.”

With those words, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The journey ahead would be challenging, but I was ready to face it with the wisdom and guidance of those who had come before me. The time machine was not just a device; it was a symbol of our family's ingenuity, integrity, and enduring legacy. And I was determined to protect it, just as my ancestors had.

And I knew that I too would honor their legacy, using it with the same caution and respect they had shown.

The End (for now)