The Doorway

I am going to find the treasure.

I know there’s a treasure. Luke questioned me but I’m certain about it. What I found were all the clues, like a scavenger hunt, and I just have to put the whole thing together.

We moved into this house a month ago. At first, I didn’t want anything to do with the move. But I was going through boxes to unpack my toys and I dropped a bouncy ball onto the floor. It echoed in a way I didn’t expect, so I investigated. Behind a floorboard I found an envelope with letters and a photo. It was just like my birthday a year ago, when my parents put together a scavenger hunt for me to solve. Except I had a feeling my parents hadn’t put this here. The papers were old and brittle, and the photo didn’t look like the kind we printed from the computer.

I read the letters first, curious to know who might’ve lived here before. They were all from someone named Anne, who didn’t sound thrilled about whatever Bobby was looking for. I read them again and again, slowly piecing together the order they went in, until I felt I had gleaned what I needed. There was something Robbie was searching for in the house — this house? — but Anne was discouraging him from looking for some reason. I think Anne was a stick in the mud. But it sounded like Bobby had stumbled on an adventure. And what kind of adventure doesn’t end in treasure?

So I looked at the first letter, where Anne mentioned that Bobby had found something in the basement. One Saturday, when my parents were out, I went down to the basement to see if I could find what Bobby had. We hadn’t moved anything into the basement then, so it was easy to look around. I took a flashlight to help, and a broom to bat at cobwebs. And then I found it. It looked like letters, but not like any I knew. They formed an arch, and a thin line marked what I would consider a doorway if it weren’t in solid stone. I pushed at it, but it was just rock, except a shallow circle right about where I’d put a doorknob.

The second letter from Anne warned against looking into it further. She said she didn’t understand what he had sent her, but didn’t think it boded well. Anne was fanciful, as my father would say, and she started to talk about faeries. She said they weren’t nice creatures, and poking around was liable to get Bobby hurt.

I don’t believe in faeries, and I can’t think of anyone who does back in my old town, but when I went to school that Monday I met a boy, Luke, who reads plenty of books. I noticed the spine of his book that day read “On Fae and Fancy,” and I thought he might know something.

And he did know a lot about faeries. Apparently there are local legends about them, stealing babies and playing tricks on farmers. Luke believes in the faeries. When I showed him the letters, he said Anne had the right idea, and he told me to forget what I saw. But I explained that faeries or no, all adventures lead to treasure. That’s how it is in the books I read.

I puzzled for a long time about the third and final letter. It was very short. Anne told Bobby in no uncertain terms that he should stop investigating and destroy any trace of what he’d found. She mentioned the floorboard hiding place, but she also said, “or that other hidden crack.” I resolved to search the whole house, trying to find another hole hidden away.

And I found it today. It was outside, right near the back door. One of the bricks was loose, and pulling it out, I found a small stone circle inside. It had a handle at its center, carved of wood and curled like burning tinder. I snatched it from the hole and dropped the brick to the ground. The key! I have the key to the treasure!

Mom is cooking, and Dad is not back from work yet. I don’t see any reason not to go immediately to see the doorway and try out the key. I rush into the house again, but I won’t run — Mom might hear.

I can’t find the light switch at first: it’s the kind that dangles from the bulb, and the string is so short I can barely reach it. But I grab it and pull, then head down the stairs to my treasure as quickly as I can. The doorway is around behind the stairs, so even with the light it’s swimming in shadows. I know where it is, though. I head straight towards it and shove the circle into place.

Nothing changes. I move to grab the handle and turn the key about, thinking it might not be facing the right way. It turns easily, then stops. I pull on the handle, and the doorway opens to me.

It’s foggy on the other side, with a dank smell like swamp or gym clothes. The treasure has to be just inside, I think. So I go in.

There’s a chill in the air, a sudden change that feels prickly and odd, not at all like going outside from the safety of home. I feel instead I’ve gone even farther. Perhaps it is faeries. I take a few steps forward, and I see a shadow in the fog. I approach it, cautious now, but after a few steps I see it’s just a tree. It’s gnarled and curled like the key handle was. I wonder if the treasure might be buried here. But I don’t have a shovel. I turn and walk directly back where I’d come from.

I come to the wall, but I see no outline of a door. I push, here, then there, then a bit to the left, but I feel nothing but the resistance of stone.

My breathing speeds up, and I push again. I lean my whole body in, pushing with all my might. Nothing. Not even a place for a key on this side. And that’s when I realize I shouldn’t have gone looking for treasure at all. I turn back to the wild I’ve found, and realize the mistakes were all mine, and I’ll have to find a way out.

If a way out even exists.