room for adventure

The house is a place where doors and windows were built for more than their suspected purpose.

Every night, new ones were built, each with a specific detail added�"even though the people they were meant for would mostly never see it.

There was no wealthy person keeping up the payments, no family responsible for it. The house was simply always there, owned by the state.

Every now and then there would be folklore, or stories of a “person who had seen something inside.” But for the most part, nothing else really happened.

Security was hired mainly to ensure that no vandalism occurred from people trying to get inside. There was no real hatred toward the house, except from a few elderly voices accusing it of nonsense.

The local city hiring office would cycle through many people doing night security for this mansion. The most common reason was high absenteeism. The main reason I took this job, besides having recently quit my last one, was the way I had been treated and the constant disrespect. So I figured maybe a job with less human interaction might be better.

The pass down was… unique. I had no superiors; no one had been here long enough to be one. The areas I was required to cover were the single 12-acre property of the mansion.

The neighborhood it was in was about a football field away from the plants, and all the homes were vacant except for the homeless who might stay a night or two. I really didn’t see the harm if they weren’t hurting anything. Plus, it was cold that winter in Texas.

I didn’t carry a gun, just a K-Bar I was given as a gift, and a flashlight�"the most expensive thing I owned�"that was rechargeable.

The instructions were obvious when they handed me the keys:

1. Don’t let anyone inside.

2. If you do go inside, don’t touch anything.

3. Be respectful; it’s the town landmark. Without it, we won’t get a lot of our federal funding.

The person who gave me the keys and uniform was the assistant to the mayor. They didn’t speak long enough to give me a name; it had the feeling of intentional distance, the expectation of a soon goodbye.

I was smiling on my route, thinking about all this. No one to belittle me. I’m not known. I’m just here, where I’m supposed to be.

The mansion itself didn’t give off a creepy feeling; the only thing that stood out was the quiet and the flares from the smoke stacks, which felt like constant fireworks going off. It made me consider the obvious reason people got sick on this job.

Every time the sun started to come out, it was time to go home. The traffic was always a narrow miss from the shifts changing at the plants. I felt an anxious, missing feeling every time I left, though.

After a few months of turning in the keys and picking them up, they just told me, “You’ve been here longest, and it would save time if you just kept them at home with you.” I suggested making a copy, but I was told these were a unique alloy with a wooden center. The keys themselves are part of the historical aspect of the home. They only work on the mansion’s front door anyway.

I didn’t argue, even though I thought it was more that they didn’t care and were just happy they no longer had to worry about it. On the ninth month, in September�"my birthday, the exact day�"I was walking along the well-maintained pathways (I tried not to walk on the grass) when I saw a light flicker from inside. I paused to make sure it wasn’t just a reflection from the flares. It wasn’t. It was definitely inside. So I inhaled and tried to keep it positive.

I still hadn’t looked inside the house. I didn’t feel right walking in for no reason, but now I had one. I brandished the key and made sure to gently insert the long skeleton key, then turned it. It had a smooth, enjoyable feeling on the gradual turn, like a lock you tried for the first time that you had just bought.

It was 1:38 a.m., the exact time I was born. I knew because I had an alarm set on my phone every year to go off at that time. It was odd, however�"it went off exactly when I took my first step through the threshold.

The home was the exact opposite of open concept. The only things new were the fireproof curtains, which were changed out once every few years. They were always closed. The candle or flickering light I had seen, I realized, must have been a reflection. I gently took the key out and looked down at my steel-toe combat boots. There was no mud being tracked in, but I still used what I hoped was the mudroom welcome mat. I walked slowly through the mudroom and took out my flashlight.

There wasn’t a smell or any musk; it felt more like a 24-hour grocery store. Just past the mudroom was a living room with no TV. After that, a staircase split left and right, each side seeming to have a chimney. I stopped getting distracted by the beautiful wood and clean spaces and said, “Anyone who can hear my voice, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to make sure the home remains intact. Come out right now and there won’t be any trouble. There are other vacant homes you can sleep in. You will have no issue from me.”

I waited and heard nothing, so I said, “I don’t have a firearm. I do use a blade. If you come at me, we will make a mess. Don’t make me become a janitor.” Still nothing.

Slowly, I pulled out my blade. I hated being forced into this mood. Why wouldn’t they just take the easy way?

I went to the left set of stairs to the second floor. As soon as I made it to the next level, I saw movement down the other staircase and heard quick thuds�"too rapid to be one person, too sequenced for me to immediately comprehend what could make that sound�"until I heard the door slam shut.

Instead of chasing the person�"or group of people�"who had just run out of the house, I put my knife away and walked over to the stairs they had vacated. There was no damage, no evidence anyone had even been there. I watch and I wait; I’ve had a lot of scares in my life. The difference is that I don’t react to sudden incidents unless they’re an obvious threat. Most of the time it’s likely just a dumb kid or a homeless vagrant.

So I walked down the stairs to the door and tried the handle, but it didn’t budge. I reached for the keys, then looked through one of the rectangular panels and saw the key still in the lock. I stepped back and smirked.

I knew I had the key on me. I remembered having it. Something wanted me in here.

I leveled my flashlight and turned it off, still holding it with my thumb resting on the button. “Hide and seek, is it?”

Goosebumps rose on my arms. Yes, I thought. I hadn’t felt this in years.

So I walked back upstairs to the second floor. To be honest, I didn’t even know how many floors this place had. Did the attic count?

I heard it again�"quick pacing above me. Just a thump, thump, thump. No laughing. Nothing playful.

I didn’t stop smirking. I just had to be careful. I couldn’t let him out.

I promised I would try not to.

As I advanced to the next floor, I noticed it started to feel cooler, like the air conditioning had just kicked on. Then I looked down a hallway on the fourth floor and saw an open door. The doors on every other level were closed.

I walked down slowly, watching and feeling for any traps or anything that could be threatening.

When I made it to the doorway, I glanced in and saw a candle that wasn’t lit, yet it was giving off light as if it were. I walked in slowly, looked behind me, and waited for the door to close�"but it didn’t. It behaved like a normal door.

Once I reached the candle, it felt warm but not hot. It had never been lit, yet the light was clearly coming from it. I picked it up, looking for some kind of gimmick, when alarm bells went off in my mind. One of the rules was don’t touch anything. But nothing happened. I didn’t feel anything.

When I went to put my flashlight back in my pocket, I felt the key. The smirk left my face as I considered taking the candle. Holding it, marveling at the light it produced without any understanding of how it worked, I thought to myself, might as well make a wish.

Out loud, I said, “I wish a place I could be useful in would exist.”

I blew gently. The light went out, and the candle began to smoke. Then the door behind me�"what had been behaving normally�"suddenly slammed shut. The smoke didn’t stop, and soon it became harder to breathe.

I didn’t panic. I just shrugged, inhaled, and thought, “This feels like an adventure.”