****
Muffin stretched against the counter as I opened a can of cat food. “There you go.” After rummaging through the well-stocked fridge I made an omelet while the coffee brewed. Muffin paced back and forth in front of the pantry door. His tail was twice its normal size. He hissed, rose on hind legs and scratched the wooden door. “What’s the matter?”
When I entered the pantry I stood, with my mouth open, staring in disbelief. “What happened? Who could have done this?” Cans and boxes covered the floor and shelves had been ripped off the wall. I pulled the cord attached to the bare bulb between the exposed beams. In the dim light I saw a door and pulled the key ring from my jeans pocket. There was a loud pop and creak when the door opened. I sat with a thud staring into the cave like space.
“Why was the door hidden and locked?”. My voice echoed in the empty room.
A heavy old medical book, with worn binding and frayed leather cover, lay on the floor. The name Dr. Paul Fitzgerald was on the torn inside page. I shone my flashlight around the deep cavity and the light illuminated a worn leather bag and a door with boards nailed across it. ‘Was that an outside door? Had there been a secret exit?’ I fished around with my broom and pulled the worn leather bag within arm’s reach. The initials PF were engraved in the rusty brass name plate.
Ghostly Writes Anthology 2016 Page 50