The Thing In The Root Cellar by Devin James Leonard

Dearest Mother,

I told you I would write to you every single day while you are recovering from your surgery, so here I am, telling you of our first day at Uncle Spencer’s.

Aaron and I are happy to spend time in the house you grew up in, but I bet it wasn’t as quiet as it is now. There are five bedrooms, three bathrooms, one and a half kitchens (How can you only have half of a room?), two dining rooms, and a den, and it’s just Uncle Spencer in all this space. He told us there used to be seven of them: Uncle Spencer, Aunt Silvia, and their five kids. But then Aunt Silvia died, and four of the kids got old enough to move out. The fifth one, Jacob, passed away, Uncle Spencer said, before Aaron and I were born.

How come you never told us about our cousins?

Does Uncle Spencer sell eggs?

There are so many chickens running around the yards that you can’t go outside without stepping in white poop, and in every room you look in, you find stacks of empty egg cartons. When we first got here, he made us scrambled eggs with cheese for lunch, then for dinner, egg salad sandwiches.

There’s lots of land around, but there isn’t anything around here to do for fun. If I had not seen the poles and wires by the road and the box on the side of the house, I would have thought there wasn’t electricity. Uncle Spencer doesn’t own a television. He listens to the radio at night.

I don’t have much to tell yet, as it is only our first day here. I have more questions than comments. Like, what is a root cellar?

When Uncle Spencer showed us around, he brought us to a door in the pantry. It was locked from the outside, with a padlock, and he said, “Now, Aaron, Marylou, you are welcome to anything under this roof. My home is your home. But this door right here remains locked, and I do not want to catch either of you trying to open it. The root cellar is off limits.”

I wonder what he’s got in there that’s so precious he needs to put a lock on the door. Do you know, Mama?

Well, that’s all I have for today. I’m going to choose which bedroom to stay in tonight. I hope I pick your old room! I love you, and I hope you are healing fast. Aaron says hello. I will write you another letter tomorrow.

Your daughter,

Marylou

***

Hi Mama,

Something sincerely strange happened last night.

Guess what? I picked this bedroom at the top of the stairs and facing the front of the house and Uncle Spencer said it was yours when you were a little girl! That’s not the weird thing, though. Come bedtime, I was lying awake in the dark, and I heard the house making sounds. The floors and walls and even the ceiling was creaking, and at first, I thought it was from the wind, but there wasn’t any. It got me scared and thinking of haunted houses, like it woke up as soon as everyone else went to bed and started breathing like a living thing. Even scarier, I heard noises that sounded like people were sneaking up and down the stairs and tiptoeing down the hall.

That’s not even the worst part, Mama. I heard Uncle Spencer hollering in his sleep. He must’ve been having a bad dream about Jacob. He was calling out his name, kind of hissing-like, like he was yelling for him but being quiet about it at the same time. He was telling him to come back, don’t be afraid.

It made me scared and sad, and it went on for so long that I didn’t get much sleep. I’m going to switch bedrooms tonight.

Mama, how did Jacob die? Did Uncle Spencer talk in his sleep when you were kids?

Guess what we had for breakfast this morning! And lunch and dinner! All we seem to eat is eggs.

There is nothing for a twelve-year-old girl to do around here. At least Aaron made a friend with a boy who lives down the road. His name is Carl, and he and Aaron wander off into the woods playing boys’ games all day, and they don’t let me come with them. Not that I want to.

  I asked Aaron if he knew how our cousin Jacob died, and he said he died of boredom. That wasn’t very nice to joke about, and I told him so. Then I told him how I heard Uncle Spencer having a nightmare about Jacob, and Aaron said he had one too. He said he dreamed that you abandoned us just like Daddy did, and we were stuck living with Uncle Spencer and eating eggs the rest of our lives. I told him that wasn’t nice to say, either, and stupid.

Aaron wants to break into the root cellar to see what’s down there. Oh! I almost forgot. I learned that a root cellar is just another name for a basement. Aaron says the basement is where you keep vegetables fresh, like potatoes and turnips and beets and stuff.

It is almost dinner time now (I bet you a bazillion dollars it’s eggs!). I will write again tomorrow, Mama.

Love,

Marylou

***

Mama,

This house squawks like rats skittering in the walls. The floors squealed again, and Uncle Spencer was calling to his dead son in his sleep again.

I was too tired to switch rooms before bedtime, but then I couldn’t take the racket, so I snatched up my pillow and blanket, set on bunking with Aaron on the opposite end of the house, and slinked over to the door. But guess what, Mama? When I turned the knob, it wouldn’t spin. Was like it was jammed, broken, or locked. I couldn’t get the door open. Even when I clutched the knob with both hands and twisted as hard as I could, there was no give. I know it wasn’t locked from the inside because it was an old door, and I couldn’t even figure out where the lock was! It was just stuck in place, and so I gave up and remade the bed and slid under the covers.

I swear, Mama, the house comes to life after dark. There is so much noise. I heard moaning again that sounded like wind, but I promise, there is no wind out here. Right outside my window is a big tree with long branches, and it doesn’t move an inch. Plus, it sounds like a person groaning from a tummy ache.

I don’t like this place at all. Uncle Spencer isn’t very friendly. He’s not mean. He just keeps to himself. And Aaron doesn’t let me come along with him and Carl. I’m all by myself.

***

I want to come home, Mama.

Yesterday, I brought my pillow and blanket to the bedroom over by where Aaron was staying. I didn’t bother telling Uncle Spencer, and last night I heard more of the same commotion. This time, I snuck out to look. The door opened just fine, but the strange thing, Mama, was at Aaron’s door there was a chair jammed up under the knob. Uncle Spencer must have put it there, but why would he?

I snuck across the house and checked my old room, and guess what, that door had a chair pressed up against it too! That’s why I couldn’t get out before!

The chairs weren’t even the strangest part!

I snuck downstairs to get a drink of water from the pantry sink. The whole house was pitch black, and just before I walked in, Uncle Spencer came through the door from outside. He was clutching a chicken, holding it upside down by the legs. It was still alive. I could hear its tiny little clucks.

Uncle Spencer took a key off his necklace, unlocked the root cellar, and opened it. Mama, he threw the chicken down the stairs, but not before breaking the poor thing’s legs with his bare hands! He snapped them like he was breaking a pretzel rod in half. The sound that poor chicken made, Mama. I never thought a chicken could scream in pain. But they can. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound it made.

There must be something down in the root cellar that Uncle Spencer is feeding. I heard it snarling, and the chicken screaming. Then the screaming stopped, and all I heard was gnawing and slobbering. Remember when we had that black lab named Max? Well, it sounded like Max chomping and thrashing one of his stuffed animal toys. That’s what the thing in the root cellar was doing to the chicken, shaking it in its mouth till it was dead.

There is something down there, Mama. It must be dangerous. Why else would Uncle Spencer keep a lock on the door and shut us in our rooms at night?

Please, Mama, please, please, please come get us. Get better as soon as possible. Please come and take us home.

***

I told Aaron about the chairs on our doors and the chicken Uncle Spencer put in the root cellar, but he doesn’t believe me. He went and told Carl, and they have been teasing me about it all day. I told them, fine, if they don’t believe me, then I will just have to prove it. Aaron asked how.

There’s only one way to find out, and that’s breaking into the root cellar and seeing for ourselves. We will pop the lock off, and then we will go down there and see what’s left of the chicken and whatever animal that’s living down there that ate it.

Aaron must have told Carl about Uncle Spencer’s bad dreams, how he screams out to his dead son, because Carl said, “Maybe he ain’t dead. Maybe your uncle’s kept him locked up in the root cellar all these years. Probably feeds him the chickens, then lets him run loose around the house at night.”

That’s a cruel thing to joke about, but the more I think about it, the more it scares me. It might be true. It kind of makes sense, Mama. What if Uncle Spencer wasn’t dreaming when I heard him calling Jacob’s name? What if it was Jacob I heard making noises in the house? What if it’s Jacob he’s feeding?

I know it can’t be true, but, jeez, it gives me the creeps!

Besides, we’re going to find out what kind of animal is in the cellar tonight. Carl’s gonna come, too, as long as Uncle Spencer says it’s okay he spends the night with us.

I will write to you tomorrow and let you know what we find!

Love,

Marylou

***

Dear Aaron,

I stopped by your uncle’s place, and he says your mom came and got you and brought you home. I wished your uncle wasn’t such a jerk and let me spend the night. That way I could have broke into the root cellar with you and your sister and got to see what was down there. Plus, if I were there, I could have seen you off when your mom picked you up. I thought that was weird, your mom coming to get you. Thought you said she was having an operation and was bedridden for a long time, and you’d be around for most of the summer.

Anyway, I was glad we could be pals for a few days. Wish I got to say bye. Seeing as I don’t have any other way of talking to you, could you write me back sometime? I would truly like to know what you and your sister found down in that cellar! Was it a monster? Or your cousin!

Your friend,

Carl