Celia investigates a secret staircase behind a secret bookcase

Celia quietly closed her hotel bedroom door behind her and crept the few steps along the corridor to the bookcase. She listened, but all was quiet. Celia moved the wall lamp to the right, and the secret bookcase clicked open. Once inside, she closed the bookcase door.

It was close to midnight when Celia began to ascend the creaky, wooden staircase, her trusty keyring torch cutting a narrow beam through the thick, oppressive darkness. The surrounding air was musty and still. The light from her torch bounced off the walls, highlighting specks of dust floating lazily in the air. Celia moved slowly, cautiously, placing her feet carefully on each step, her heart pounding loudly in her chest as though it might give her away. Every small sound seemed amplified in the quiet; the slight creak of the stairs and the soft shuffle of her shoes on the worn wood echoed faintly.

About halfway up, a particularly loud creak broke the silence, so sudden and sharp that Celia stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she was frozen, straining to hear any response from the world around her. But there was nothing – no shuffle of movement, no murmured voices – only the low groan of the ancient house settling as if it, too, was on edge. Celia let out a breath and cautiously continued her ascent.

At the top of the staircase was a narrow landing, the wood beneath her feet worn smooth by time. Her torch flickered briefly, casting strange, shifting shadows on the walls. Celia paused for a moment, sweeping the light across the landing. It was as she expected: old, fragile, an attic that had seen little life in years. The stairs ended at this small landing, offering access to two doors – one directly in front of her, which was above room one, and another at the far end of the landing, which was directly above room four, her room.

The door closest to her was old, with a round, wooden handle, its surface smooth from obvious use. Taking a deep breath, she crept towards the second door at the far end of the landing. The second door was much like the first, with the same worn wooden handle but rough and splintered from years of neglect. Celia hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob for a second before gently turning it. The door opened easily and without a sound. Celia shone her torch into the gloom. The beam revealed a cluttered room filled with what looked like forgotten relics of a long-ago past. Old furniture – some of it covered in dusty, moth-eaten sheets – stood like ghostly shapes in the darkness. Many landscape paintings, their frames thick with grime, leaned against the walls. They were the kind of items one might expect to find in an old manor house, forgotten and left to decay over time. The musty smell of aged wood and dust filled her nose, thick and cloying, making her almost want to sneeze.

Celia stepped back and gently closed the door, ensuring it made no noise as it clicked shut. Silently, she retraced her steps until she was in front of the first door. Just as Celia was about to turn the handle, a sliver of light appeared under the door. It was so sudden and unexpected that she froze. Her heart raced as she listened intently. There was movement on the other side of the door, quiet but unmistakable – someone was there.

Her mind briefly raced with possibilities of who or what was on the other side of the door before, then, in a single, fluid motion, Celia spun on her heel and, as carefully as possible, started back down the staircase, skipping the treacherous middle stair that had creaked so loudly earlier. Celia held her breath all the way down the stairs so she could best hear the opening of the first door.

As Celia reached the bottom of the staircase, she heard a soft click, followed by the unmistakable creak of the second door opening. A flood of light poured into the landing above and the top of the staircase. Celia continued to hold her breath. Then, she heard the door close, and there was once again darkness. Feeling slightly relieved, Celia released the breath she had been holding with a gasp. That is when she heard a bloodcurdling scream.

Celia immediately realised the scream had come from the other side of the bookcase. She swiftly exited, quietly closing the bookcase door behind her, which automatically reset the wall lamp. Celia’s heart was racing again.

***

Ten minutes earlier, just after Celia had started to climb the hidden staircase, two figures stood at the top of the hotel stairs. The dim light from the flickering chandelier cast eerie shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere thick with tension.

The first figure, tall and tense, spoke in a low, urgent whisper.

‘You are not thinking about the consequences. If you reveal our secret, it will ruin everything.’

The second figure, shorter but with a presence that commanded attention, leaned in closer, their eyes glinting with a mixture of curiosity and malice.

‘Oh, I understand the consequences perfectly. That’s why I’m considering it. To be honest, everyone here seems to have something to hide, but if you won’t make that decision, then our secret is no longer safe.’

‘Please, I’m begging you. You don’t know what kind of trouble this could bring. It’s not just me who will be affected.’

The second figure scoffed, a sound devoid of any warmth.

‘Isn’t it fascinating how desperate people can get when their secret is about to be aired? Maybe it’s time everyone knew who you really are.’

The first figure’s hands clenched into fists, trembling with a mix of anger and fear.

‘We could be...’

The second figure cut in.

‘Well, not any longer.’

‘Look. Let me offer you something else. Money, maybe, or favours? Just name your price, and I’ll give it to you. Just... keep this between us, please.’

‘For God’s sake,’ the second figure replied, their voice dripping with condescension. ‘It’s not about money or favours, is it? It’s about putting me first. And anyway. I’m sure you know who suspects.’

The first figure took a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of control.

‘I can’t let you do this. It’s blackmail.’

The second figure stepped forward, a smug smile playing on their lips.

‘Good luck with that. But remember, I have the upper hand.’

That is when the first figure let out a bloodcurdling scream.