The Secret Room Follow einer Story

The moment the huge rusty door fell into its locks behind him was when Quentin realized that his life won't be the same again. It was only a week since his mother told him to pack his stuff because she had to move into that spooky old mansion far from everything he knew. At least far enough to get away from the bullies of his last class, far enough from the people talking about the loss of his father.

Talking about loss, he felt like his mother had lost her mind, this house seemed like it would fall apart with their next breath. The only things living in there must have been about three generations of spiders and other crawling creatures.

A huge staircase was leading to the next level, and his mother told him to choose one of the rooms for himself. If he had the chance, he would have chosen a tent over any room in here. The first door he tried to open stayed locked up, so he moved on to the room at the end of the hallway. With its greenish blue painted carvings, it looked different from the other doors around it. Quentin stopped thinking about the why and threw himself on the bed that welcomed him with a loud cracking sound.

For a second, he closed his eyes just to picture his old room, and he could swear he heard his father working in the yard under his old window. The memory got interrupted as he heard his mother calling his name. With a deep breath, he jumped off the bed, not thinking about his backpack and the baseball he pushed into the side pockets. Almost without any noise, the ball fell off the bed and bumped against the wall.

The echo was almost unnoticed, but the sound the secret door in the wall made when it opened wasn't. Quentin stepped closer to the door, what's frame was surrounded by a light green mist. Once he opened it a little more, the mist disappeared and left the view into another room. A room that wasn't visible from the outside nor from the window next to the bed. One side filled with bookshelves from the ground up to the ceiling, the other with beautiful colorful windows that kept the room in a magical lighting. He moved closer to the huge desk in the middle filled with open books, little bottles, some empty. The sunlight that found its way through the window left the desk in a bright light, probably the only light in the whole room, besides some half burned candles. It was almost impossible to read the titles of the books, all must have been old and in a writing he wasn't able to read.

The room was clean and looked untouched, but every time his fingers stroke along a book or the wood of the desk, shiny dust appeared around the spot. One of the open books looked like it was handwritten with the pencil placed beside it. Everything looked like someone just left a few minutes ago. Quentin sat down in the chair to read what it was saying. He was wondering about the fact that despite his troubles reading the books in the shelf's he could read the written text in front of him.

" Monday, 12th August 1957. "

He tried to check the date on his watch but a strange reflection that wasn't coming from the windows, made it almost impossible, the only thing he was able to spot was the year. His forehead showed little wrinkles when he told himself that it was exactly 60 years ago. As Quentin started to look for the reason of the reflection, he noticed a mirror hanging on the opposite side of the room. He got up to get closer and was holding his breath because this mirror didn't show his or any other reflection at all. He couldn't resist touching the glass that suddenly changed its color from dark to a green dust, like the one that surrounded the door in the beginning. A slight pinch like an electric shock made him pull back his hand, and he was ready to leave the room to check on his mother, who was calling for him another time.

He was almost out of the room when a voice appeared from somewhere behind him.

" Quentin! "

A cold shiver was running up his spine and the little hairs on his forearm stood up before he turned around again, not seeing anyone with him in this room.