The Room

The Room:

By: Alexander Poe

     This is the last testament of Henry Hill II: I recently moved to Crystal Lake, Illinois where I discovered something I don't understand and don't know if I care to. I'm writing this with my findings at my feet, should anyone be reading this, then I am dead. Included in the envelope along with this letter, is another letter labeled "read me first." This letter contains the proper instruction on carrying out my wishes.

I will tell you the story in this letter below: 

     The house was cheap but big. It's old, historical was the word the realtor used. I moved here out of necessity, not by choice. Why I moved here is a different matter and story all together. When I got here the place was empty, it looked exactly as the pictures online had. I spent two days cleaning the place and sleeping on the floor. After that, I went to a couple of Goodwill stores to find cheaper furnishings. I didn't find much so I moved on and stopped at a resale shop called Swanson’s. The older woman who ran the store was helpful and able to sell me a table and chairs, along with a desk and bookcase. Her grandson loaded my furniture in his big truck and followed me home. I still needed a bed but could do without it for the time being. After we unloaded the furniture I gave the grandson a tip, he shook my hand and introduced himself as Grant, Mrs. Swanson's grandson, and delivery guy. He told me I picked a good house and said it was one of the “old gangster” houses. What that meant I didn’t know at the time. I put the table and chairs in the large dining room with an actual antique chandelier. The desk and the rather large bookcase fit perfectly in the room I had been sleeping in. I used the bookcase as a cover for the unfinished section of the wallpaper. The room was pine tree green except for the northwest corner, which was royal blue from floor to ceiling. All of my books were in the trunk of my car, but I decided to put them up later that night.

     I went back to the city and got some lunch. While eating I tracked down a mattress store. I finished eating and headed to the mattress store where I was able to purchase a bed-in-a-box. It fit in my backseat with little effort. I drove around a bit before going back home, my attempt to start learning the area. I stumbled upon a small bookshop, being the bookworm I am, I stopped in to have a look. An older clean-cut gentleman was sitting in a chair in front of the cash register. He greeted me the moment I walked in, I told him I was just browsing. I scanned the various sections of the store, used bookstores are my favorite. I found twelve books, all on sale for a dollar apiece! I paid and left the bookstore then headed for home. As I pulled into my rather large driveway, I realized I had not introduced myself to the neighbors. Is this the kind of neighborhood where people do that? Either way, I would get around to that tomorrow. As I brought the books and bed inside my house, I noticed that there weren't a lot of cars on the street, nor did I see anyone outside. This struck me as odd, but it is an upper-class area. All the houses on this block we're equally as big as mine.

     This is the good part of the story: It started when I was putting the books on the shelf of the bookcase. Now, remember the bookcase covered the mismatch section of the wallpaper? The wallpaper changed colors in the middle of the bookcase. As I put the books on the shelf, pushing them against the wall, I noticed a change in density as I came upon the royal blue corner. It sounded hollow and had an echo from beyond. I assumed it to be nothing and began to finish putting the books on the shelf. When I reached the bottom shelf, the book busted through the wall, evidently, the bottom of the wall was just paper. I felt daring so I stuck my hand in the hole and pulled to my right, tearing the paper out. Then swept left, exposing a six-inch-high space, at least six feet wide. Someone had put a large piece of wood the size of a door, over what looks like an entrance to a hallway. It was nailed down to the studs of the house. The open space below the door had no light shining through. I pulled the bookcase out of the way and got down on my knees to have a look. It was dark and I could not see anything. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and turned on the flashlight, I saw chairs, big old chairs fit for a king. I could see small and large luggage trunks stacked high to the ceiling. I had to get in there. I pushed on the door and found that it was solid wood, no give to it whatsoever. The nail heads were big and flush to the door. They looked like small iron railroad spikes. I thought for a moment, then ran to my now empty car trunk. I lifted the cover and pulled the spare tire out, then the bottle jack I replaced the factory scissor jack with. I took the bottle jack inside and left the spare tire outside. 

     I put the jack under the base of the door in the middle. I started wrenching on the jack, a sharp crack smacked my ears when I hit the base of the door. I kept on wrenching, cracking through the door. When the jack reached maximum height, about halfway up the door, pressure cracks warped the left and right side of the door. I lowered the jack and pulled on it until it popped out. I began kicking the door in, didn’t take but ten kicks before I was able to get in. I immediately walked up to the stacked trunks, the first one I opened was empty, so were the second and the third. I began moving the trunks to the other side of the room until I had blocked myself in. Every single trunk was empty. The two chairs sat next to each other, covered in dust. Moving those trunks was more work than I had anticipated so I sat down on the blue chair. It felt like I had sat on a pile of metal, I jumped up immediately. I looked at the cushion and pulled it away. The seat of the chair had been cut out and stuffed in the open space was a brown potato sack. I pulled it out, it was heavy. I opened it and I was taken aback, it was a big bag of guns! I dug my hand in and pulled some of the guns out. Spread across the bottom of the bag was bullets! Lots of bullets, I couldn't believe it. I had to of devoured the better part of an hour looking through this bag. There were rusty guns and clean guns, some had initials carved on them. I saw the initials A.C. a number of times. B.J. was common too. I sat on the floor puzzled and stunned by this finding, then it hit me, the other chair! I stood up and turned around to face the red chair, I wasted no time in pulling up the seat cushion only to reveal another potato sack. This one was filled with… Money! Old money and older money. I couldn't believe it but also wondered if I could or even should spend it. I found it in my house, so it's my property. I immediately ran to get a pen and paper so I could write this very letter. I feel these findings are from the great days of the Mob. Will someone come looking for it? Isn't the Mob out of business? So many questions and no answers. I'll find no comfort here. I'm leaving the guns and money here, I'll take a few bills to have them examined by someone, but I have to get far from here. 

• Good day, H. Hill II.