The Cellar

Childhood Magic

"Can we open it today, Grandma?” I ask, even though I’m sure she will say what she always says: “No, not today”. I’m not too disappointed, because I know she is going to tell me another tale.

“Leprechauns don’t like to be surprised,” Grandma whispers, peering over the edge of her glasses at me, with a glint in her eye, while she’s busy mending Grandpa’s shirt.

“Granndmmmaa….how would leprechauns get in the cellar? The door is locked.”

She smiles at me, “They are magic and I said they can let themselves in, whenever they want.”

“Why would they want to use your cellar?” I ask.

“Well,” says my grandma, “sometimes they need a safe place to store their gold in between rainbows. So we have a deal. They can use my cellar; I will make sure no one disturbs them or their gold. In return, they give us extra rainbows.”

“Grandma,” I giggle, “Leprechauns don’t make the rainbow, they just put their gold on the end of it. Everyone knows that!”

Grandma again looks over her glasses, this time with a small frown, “How do you know that? Have you ever asked them? Because I have, and they told me: the rainbow appears after the pot of gold. It seems to me they are the ones who would know these things!”

I look at the heavy door, tucked into the corner of the kitchen. It looks like it’s made of wide pieces of wood. It’s narrower than the other doors in the house and has one of those keyholes that you can see through, right to the other side. But when I tried to use a flashlight to look once, Grandma warned me I would scare away the sugar plum fairies, so I haven't tried since.

Grandma has one of those old looking keys to open the door on a rusty key ring, along with a smaller key.

*

Today, I am helping Grandma kneed the bread dough.  Since I am 8 years old now, I can cut off bits to make buns now too!

Grandma tells me, “A special messenger brought me an antique bicycle all the way from Ireland."

“Why do you need a bike from Ireland?” I ask.

“When I was a young woman, and came to Canada, my sister and I lost each other… .”

“How can you lose a sister?”

“My sister went to another country and I didn’t know where.”

“That must have been sad.”

“It was, but we found each other again, remember Aunt Alice?”

I remember Aunt Alice visiting; she talked verrry funny. Grandma tells me the story of Aunt Alice learning to ride a bicycle when they were about my age. I notice her eyes are all shiny, like she might cry, but she is smiling too, so it’s okay.

Grandma says a gargoyle brought a bicycle to her from her sister. But gargoyles turn to stone when the light hits them, and this makes them grumpy, so we can’t open the door today.

*

In the end, all the stories lead to the same conclusion every time: we can’t open the cellar door today, because some magical creature has taken refuge and must not be disturbed.

As I get older, the stories change a bit. The creatures, like the gargoyle, bring odds and ends that Grandma wants more often. A photograph, a pin, the old bicycle. I play along; the cellar must not be usable for some reason, so my grandmother started making up stories. She seems to love telling me them. It becomes a game, of sorts, with me humoring her, as she used to entertain me when I was small.

*

I’m back home from University, for her funeral. Laughter and tears mix, as we all tell stories about our beloved, and sometimes silly, matriarch.

“So, what’s really up with the cellar?” I think to ask.

“What cellar?” my uncle asks.

“Behind the narrow, heavy door in the kitchen that’s always locked.”

“There’s no cellar there.”

“Yes there is. Grandma always told me about it.”

My uncle, realizing which door I mean, gives me my grandmother’s keys, rusty key ring and all. I pause for a moment, realizing I’ve never seen anyone but her in possession of these keys.

I slide the skeleton key into the old brass key hole and slowly turn. The door opens silently and I peer inside to see a tiny broom closet. My eyes well up; there is no cellar.

My uncle puts his hand on my shoulder, shaking his head.

"I thought you knew; Mom just kept her old junk and cleaning supplies in here. She made up the stories because you threw such a tantrum the first time she told you that you weren’t allowed in.”

Losing the champion of my childhood wonder hits me all at once. Clutching the keys to my chest I start to sob.

“What’s the small one for?” I ask, holding out the keys on the ring.

“I don’t know.”

I search the closet with still burning eyes and locate a very small steamer trunk in the far corner. Getting to my knees, I insert the key, which, unlike the closet door, is a little sticky. After a few seconds, the lock clicks and I open the chest.

An envelope, with my name written in a pretty, but simple, script, has been set on the top. Under  are a scattering of seemingly random vintage, antique or just plain old, objects.

Riffling gently through the chest, my eyes are drawn to a deck of handmade playing cards. Each card is painted with a colorful mythical creature. They are all here: leprechauns, gargoyles, sugar plum fairies, unicorns, ogres… all of them. I take note of a charm bracelet with a bicycle charm still attached and a yellowing photograph of a young family standing in front of a wood farm house, amongst all the other treasures Grandma had spun her tales around.

In the letter, my grandmother asks me to care for our history. There, written in her hand, is the history of my family, as told by the objects she carefully collected over a lifetime.

Author's Note

I have made a few adjustments. If its your second read, let me know what you think.

Things have been going well, so why not add another challenge to the mix - dialogue! Any feedback or suggestions welcome.

Reviews

[Lost, n'MT]

I had a smile on my face every time I read the character of Grandma speaking to you (the narrating character) in this story. This is one of the best short stories I have read, from a sentimental, clever, and intriguing standpoint. I also feel somewhat deprived for not reading it sooner.

I strongly wanted to know what was in the cellar, and I wanted to believe your Grandma was somehow telling the truth as silly as that may sound. Once I realized there wasn't a cellar, I still wanted to believe that somehow her words could be proven true, again, as silly as that may sound. Once the narrator (your character) found that small trunk/chest, I KNEW that she had been telling the truth in some shape or form and I was so happy to read the ending. I found this story to be very enjoyable, well-written, heartwarming, and cleverly executed. I don't know what you had changed from first version, and I am not sure if you're considering changing it again in the future... However, I think the ending is perfect, and it's everything that I wanted even though I wasn't sure what to expect. You captured my interest from start to finish while feeling many emotions throughout this story. There's so much I'd like to quote, but everything past "Riffling gently through the chest" is what blew me way. Even though I was anticipating something, I still wasn't sure what to expect or how it could be executed. The beginning and end are my favorite parts, but I thoroughly enjoyed the story throughout. Remarkably written and expressed, this is my favorite story.

[Shannon]

Thank you so much for reading and sharing your reaction. It is extremely validating to have someone so transported.
The story never changed, just my writing of it, in subtle ways.

[Lost, n'MT]

You're very welcome. I am extremely glad to hear all of that.

[Mike]

This is such a wonderful story and I'm so thankful for you sharing it. I gather from your comments that you have chiselling away at, refining it each time. Well, I've just read it for the first time. Now I'm breathless and in Awe! Great writing!

[Shannon]

Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I am always working on my stories, trying improve.

[Jon Roggie]

I love this one. Family stories add to the feeling.

[Shannon]

Thank you. This one was written to unapologetically meant to pull on the heart strings.

[Jon Roggie]

Part of telling a story.

[Dave]

Shannon - I just finished rereading your story. I'm sorry that I must not have read the entire story the first time. By golly! This time it had me in tears! Your grandmother must have been a truly wonderful person. Thank you very very much for sharing this.

[Shannon]

Hello Dave. I am glad it touched you. Perhaps I have been able to make the impact greater with revision. Thank you for stopping by.

[mattavelli]

This is a lovely story, Shannon! :)
it reminds me a bit of how my grandmother treated me as a child. It's a relationship that can put magic in a young mind.

[Shannon]

I am thrilled you could relate in some way. Every child (probably adults too) need someone to foster the magic.

[James]

This is an awesome story. About brought a tear to my eye. Really, really good.

[Shannon]

Thank you. Glad you stopped by to read

[CLR9]

To be honest, I only began reading this story because I thought it was a horror story. This is really good. I'm not sure what I can contribute in terms of what other reviewers may have already said, but this looks good enough to publish. You should try tossing it out into the market and see what happens. Don't fret over making it perfect, you'll only eventually find things wrong with it and get trapped in a cycle.

Thanks for sharing,

Craig

[Shannon]

Thank you Craig. I have considered the title occasionally. But I like the ambiguity and I think having it front and centre, keeps one guessing.
Thank you for the kind words and reading all the way through.

[Richard Charles]

Loved this story!. I was right there in the kitchen with you. Love the flow and the wonderful ending.

[Shannon]

Thank you Richard. I appreciate the feedback. These stories are some of my favourite writings.

[Stacy Purvis]

This is the most beautiful, endearing story I've read in a long time.
Tears welled up in my eyes.
Thank you so much for sharing. xxx

[JPDonelan]

That was a very delightful read, with an excellent flow that didn't seem to snag at any particular point (save, perhaps, one, which I will mention below). I particularly enjoyed the dialogue between the narrating character and the grandmother, both in what was being said and the voices of the characters. The end made me smile, all those exaggerations to placate a child's curiosity given grounding to encourage the retention of ones history. It was very nice.

Before I get into my observations, I want to bring up the sentence: "I’m back home from University, for her funeral." I like the sentence and how it buries the major, impactful detail for the end. The only remark beyond that is purely stylistic and would only, possibly, increase impact slightly. The remark is to actually make "for her funeral" its own sentence. Again, a stylistic suggestion that changes little and can safely be ignored.

That said, I do have a couple of things to note.
There was a comma that might be unneeded. It comes in the sentence: "I notice her eyes are all shiny, like she might cry, but she is smiling too, so it’s okay." The reasoning here is that it separates the dependent from the independent.

Only other detail I have to remark on, and the part that I mentioned led to a snag, is the transition from when the uncle hands the keys to the narrator and the narrator sliding the key into the keyhole. This might have just been my initial reading, but it felt like the narrator was given the keys and then went to the grandmother's home.
After a second look I realized that the conversation could also have just happened at the spot. So...I'm not sure if there is actually a problem here or not and I don't know if I just misread it or not.

Those were the only I really felt needed to address, which still turned out to be fewer than I originally thought. Going to say again, really enjoyed that.

[Shannon]

I really appreciate the constructive feedback and am glad to hear your point of view.
The comment. About the extra coma, I think I was trying to replicate how the child might think.

Your comment after the funeral sentence makes my laugh. I am constantly fending off readers who hate my use of fragments for emphasis. I will think about that and the place where the final conversation takes place.

Thanks again for the read and review!

[JPDonelan]

In regards to my remark about the extra comma. If that was your goal, then don't worry too much about it. That was actually the initial impression I got, so I'd say you succeeded quite well.

Sentence fragments are a precarious thing. A legitimate tool in the writer's toolbox, but one easily overused or misused (and subjective, less I forget).

[Shannon]

Thank you, I will look at all your suggestions, though. And I probably do over use the fragments... In most pieces.

[Luke Steed]

Wow! Truly a nostalgic story that is as eloquent as a memory. It's a literary work of art, whether it's fiction or even nonfiction. Thank you so much for submitting this to my contest! Your writing will be remembered.

[Shannon]

Thank you like, I appreciate you reviewing as a result of my entry. I won't ruin it and tell which bits were real...

[Luke Steed]

OK sounds good!