Despite the musty carpet and my thick, woolen socks, my feet are very cold. In front of me and to the right a bit is the room we have come to call the "Utility Room". The basement stretches out to my right in darkness that could go on for miles. I turn on the light, chasing away the dark and giving the room tangible dimensions. I turn around and twist the doorknob and push the door open in one motion. My hand flicks to the right mechanically to find the switch, behind which there is no drywall. The halogen lamps flicker on.
The Utility Room is about 8 by 12 feet, the right side a workbench with tools and the left with the water pump and heater. The brown, drab carpet only goes about halfway across the room, length-wise; presumably so that if the water pumps leak, the carpet doesn't get wet. The workbench has tools and various hardware strewn all about, a source of much frustration for my mother. I stride to the opposite end.
Earlier in the week I came across a small door in the far wall. It's about 3 feet high, and none of us ever noticed it because it was painted over. Now, a few nights later, I got a chance to open it alone.
After only a moments hesitation, I pulled it open...
I'm standing on the top of a cliff, overlooking a brilliant jungle.
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