The Bad and Me

The Secret Room

My hand was trembling with fear like I was about to give an important speech in front of a hundred people. I knew I wasn't supposed to go near the antique painting, but my curiosity had already gotten the best of me, and there was no returning. I traced the mysterious outline of the person, painted with a dark blue robe that was threaded in a variety of colors. His eyes looked wise and filled with years of knowledge and age. His skin was almost as pale as the snow falling outside the window that led to the outside of my town in Holloway (Cotswold), England. It was so enchanting, like someone I had seen in a dream. At nine years old I believed that anything was possible, but nothing in this puzzling painting appeared to be realistic. There was a large Scottish style castle towering above the willow trees surrounding it. I touched the book that the man was holding and felt the delicate and elegant brush strokes, which revealed this painting took a lot of effort and time.

The painting suddenly started shaking making the dust fly off its old surface, and I thought it was an earthquake. But I noticed that nothing else in the room was practically wobbling off of the wall like the painting was. I knew something was wrong once I heard clicks and clangs that sounded like something was unlocking. The painting eventually unhinged the right side of itself from the skin-colored wall, and I took a peek at the scene unfolding. A slide-like tube fell down to a largish hole, a little bit bigger than my body's size. So I thought it would be perfect to go down the tunnel and discover what was on the other side. I slowly edged one leg in at a time and then sat at the top of the tube. Without thinking twice, I tumbled down into the pitch-black abyss, falling farther and farther until I started to see light. The color of bright, golden specks shimmered in the opening below, coming closer as I fell. I plummeted into the wonderful glow with a soft thud, realizing the gold specks had come together to form a beautiful rug with a winding golden pattern. The bristles were itchy and long, which made me wonder why someone would buy something so uncomfortable.

I got up, my legs shaking like I was standing up on a surfboard about to ride a giant, terrifying wave. My eyes focused on a big mahogany door, and I walked toward it. I saw an old gold knob and turned the cold metal surface as the door creaked open with a whine. Inside was a rainbow of colors, an array of mystical items that I'd only dreamt about. I saw colorful liquids set on a table by table to my right, and books as thick as tree trunks showered with dust on an antique bookshelf to my left. They looked like potions, like the ones you could use to turn someone into a toad or make someone fall in love with you. Ahead of me, I could see another tall eerie cabinet that I knew I had to open up to unfold more mysterious items.

There was nobody else in the room, so I stepped toward the cabinet. Suddenly, the doors swung open at the motion of my body. Inside I found a rectangle wrapped in brown packaging. I ripped it open to find a book with a cushiony cover made of tan leather. I curiously opened it up to see it was filled with sketches of lines with dots and crosses in it, appearing to be a blueprint for some kind of plan. The "X's" and "O's" were zipping around the lines sketched on the paper, never staying in the same place for more a second. There was no title on the book nor was there a name claiming its possession. It was probably just my imagination making up this whole idea of magical items, but I couldn't help feeling like all of this was made for an important purpose. All of these weird items probably worked together to help some cause that was supposed to be linked to me. Why else would I be able to have access to this room? I thought to myself. After inspecting the book, I tucked it into the belt on my pants and almost felt guilty for stealing. But this room barely appeared to be visited regularly by anyone, so I figured I could get away with it.

What now? I thought to myself, remembering that soon enough I would have to withdraw from this mysterious place and return to my enraged parents. I scanned up and down the secret room, examining every crack and opening for a way out. I remembered in movies when there was a secret room, the person would always find a book to push, revealing a secret passageway. I pressed on all the books that looked misplaced or stood out from the bunch. But none of the odd ones seemed to uncover anything. Well, I had gotten in by pressing a part from a painting, so maybe to get out I had to use another. I scanned the room, and my eyes soon fell upon a worn out paining that was distinctively peculiar from the others. It had a dark night's background with twinkling bright galaxies painted in the sky. A bare deserted mountain lay with no plant growth or flowers on it, but a single willow tree at the tippy top. I walked toward the painting located by the bookshelf to my far left. I lifted my hand toward the painting and felt around for bumps. I finally found a bulge in one of the larger galaxies and nudged it with my finger.

Slowly the painting creaked open and revealed a ladder leading upward. So I started climbing, already missing the secret room and knowing I might never be able to visit it again. The painting shut behind me as I ascended higher, until I saw the outline of a door.

I pushed the door open just a crack, in case there was anyone waiting on the other side. All I could see was the doorway that led out of my dad's office toward the staircase. I adjusted my position, preparing myself for the flight toward my room. I stepped out of the door cautiously and closed it making no sound. I turned around to face the secret door and its outline melted back into the wall, making it obvious nothing secret was to be seen. I pounced toward the staircase making haste and tip toed up the stairs, as if I were ballerina performing on pointe.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I took a left, realizing my parents' bedroom door was unlocked and slightly opened. I moved forward and peeked inside. I saw my mom lying on her blue shaded quilt that my grandma made for her when I was born, reading a novel titled Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Hold on a second, that's my book, I thought madly in my head. She took it from my room, but I had also taken a book from the secret room, and now I understood the guilty feeling I hoped she had now.

No time to think about that now though, I was on an important mission to figure out what this book was about, and I had to sneak past the evil mother in her monster cave. So I got on my hands and knees and crawled farther down to the end of the hallway, where my room stood waiting for me. I swiftly whooshed into my Hogwarts themed room. After my door closed, I never could have realized how much life was about to change for me, not necessarily for the good or bad, but for both.