The Room Below (Complete)

The Room Below Part Two

Caught off guard by the curious encounter with her new father, Petunia found herself, as what could possibly be the first time in her life, speechless. Petunia listened to Mr. Porter’s instruction to take her things to her bedroom, unpack, and come back to the dining area for some lunch. As quickly as Mr. Porter arrived, he was gone. Disappearing into one of the many corridors that spanned like veins throughout the house. There seemed to be no end to their extent. Arriving at the end of one hallway would always lead to the birth of another.

After what seem like hours of following Rosetta down endless hallways, Petunia finally made it to her bedroom. The room’s walls rose high above her head, meeting at a peak in the center of the ceiling. Flowery wall paper covered the walls—not exactly her taste in décor but again, not a complainer. A considerable step up from the cramped orphanage living.

To the best of Petunia’s ability, she tried to remember Rosetta’s instructions on how to reach the dining area once she was done unpacking her things. After making Rosetta repeat it yet a third time, she figured she had her bearings in order. Rosetta left Petunia to her unpacking.

It was strange for Petunia to have so many options for safekeeping her possessions. She was used to fighting over the use of one cupboard drawer, or the trunk space at the foot of her bunk. She quickly learned to get along with what she could carry or hold in her one suitcase—since she was not much of the fighting type. Of the multiple drawers and cubbies that filled the room and its two closets, she was only able to fill two drawers and one cubby.

Special room was always kept for her Dolly. Petunia would never go anywhere without her. She was always either tucked carefully hidden away in her suitcase or clenched tightly inside of a hugging embrace. She could not sleep unless it was with her. Petunia took Dolly out of her case and carefully tucked her under the flowery comforter of her new bed. With a kiss to the forehead, Petunia left Dolly to slumber in the luxury of the bed.

Petunia stood within the doorframe for a few moments as she tried to recollect the instructions Rosetta had given her. Working her mind in reverse made it spin in circles. A cloud of bewilderment formed in her head. She drew in a deep breath and stepped out of the room and turned left down the hallway—being the last turn they made, she was quite confident in its accuracy. The click-clack of her heels bounced off the walls as she made her way down corridor after corridor. A left here, a right there. Up this row, and down another.

Doors passed in a blur as she kept her focus ahead. Curious as she was, Petunia tried her hardest to make sure she didn’t get distracted by any of the offbeat things about this house. Like the extravagant paintings that hung on the walls or the severed heads of deer, moose and even zebras that protruded out from the walls. Petunia could not help but notice that not a single door was open. This intrigued Petunia greatly—to the point in fact, that she stopped and tried a few doors in quick succession. Each one locked as the one before. She then decided she would stop every third door and try its handle. But none seemed to open—many of which didn’t even turn as she tried them. Why would anyone, need so many locked doors, she wondered.

She continued down each new corridor with a waning interest. Allowing herself to only look straight down the hallways as she made her way towards her destination.
Fearing that she has made a wrong turn somewhere along the way, Petunia tried to backtrack her steps—this only made her become even more lost. Nearing the end of her ability to remain calm, Petunia turned down another familiar, yet un-familiar hallway. Something about this hallway was strange though. Unlike the rest. There are no paintings hung and no animal heads in sight. The collective colors of the walls, floors and doors never escaping a deep earthy grey hue; giving the hallway a dull numbness. Though these certain characteristics were in fact, uncharacteristic of the rest of the house, there was one thing that stood out among the rest. Halfway down the hall, dead center, a door hung unlatched from its doorframe. The door stood agape, beckoning Petunia’s intrigue.

Petunia walks down the stretch of hallway with extreme caution in each and every step. Up on her tip-toes, she marched. As she nears the door, the darkness spilling out from within the exposed room seemed to drench the hallway in an overwhelming eeriness.

Petunia stood just outside the room now. Her heart raced with frivolous thoughts.  The top three steps of a staircase illuminated by the light of the hallway. If Petunia listened carefully enough she could almost make out the sound of two voices. One sounded similar to that of Mr. Porter and the other was indistinct. As Petunia’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room she could begin to make out the faint flickering of firelight deep down below. Petunia thought it odd, for a house powered throughout by electricity and electric light, to have a room that still relied on fire for lighting.

Petunia made the decision to investigate—she was never one to let the goose bumps forming on her arm to dictate what she was going to do or not do. Gripping the doorframe in her right hand, she gently lowered her foot down onto the first step. The step recoiled under her tiny frame and let out a shrilled Cr-eeeaak! Petunia quickly lifted her foot from the step and froze in place—foot hovering just inches above the step. She stilled her breathing and swallowed hard.

The voices below fell silent.

Petunia slowly began her retreat into the hallway.

Still not a sound came from the room below.

“Miss Petunia?”

The words sent chills up Petunia’s back—not because of their meaning but rather of their untimely utterance.

Petunia spun around to see Rosetta standing right in front of her.

“Rosetta, I . . . I . . .” Petunia searched for the words to explain. Again she fell short of words—something she figured she would have to grow accustomed to in this house.

“Petunia, my dear. What are you doing here? I’ve been looking all over for you. You had me half worried to death.”

“I’m sorry Rosetta. I just got, well, lost I guess.” The admittance of her being lost felt much like a confession of murder.

“You needn’t worry about that my dear, soon enough you will know the hallways of this house like the back of your hand.” Rosetta smiled, placed her hand on Petunia’s shoulder and began to lead her down the hallway. Petunia looked around one last time to make sure she kept the image of the hallway clear in her mind. She made a mental note of every turn and hallway they pass through on their way to the dining area, so that she could return to the opened door at a later time.