Write a descriptive essay on the secret door
Answers
Secret door:-
“Don’t forget to do the laundry!” my mom shouted from downstairs, slamming the front door shut as she went outside. I grabbed the basket and dragged it into the basement.
I placed the detergent on the shelf, and stared at the wall ahead. A faint stream of faint light caught my eye. “It's behind the old bookcase!”
The mysterious light intrigued me. After working the wooden shelf away, I found the source - a keyhole of an old, stout door with a partly chipped, worn out pattern on the sides. The rusty doorknob felt scratchy and cold on my fingers when I touched it. I held my breath out of excitement. Did I discover a secret passage?
I pulled on the knob, it wouldn’t budge. I glanced through the keyhole. A faint stream of bluish light was visible. Was this a portal? A secret room? Another world?
I spun around, trying to spot the key. Was it on the bookcase? The cabinet? Under the washing machine? Ideas popped up in my head. In an agitated frenzy, I scoured the whole basement. Finally, I found a key in a dingy corner beneath a stack of books.
It was old fashioned, skeleton style, covered with a thick layer of rust. Some of it crumbled when I brushed it with my finger.
Heading across the basement on tiptoes, I grasped the key as if afraid it would fall into pieces. “Here I go….” the key would not fit in. I nearly cried with anger and disappointment. A whole hour spent in a worthless endeavor.
But I couldn’t give up. The light had shifted its angle a little, and I was burning with curiosity to find what was the source.
“My brother might have the key! He found an old one in the basement too, and one in the attic. I just need to find them,” I perked up and dashed upstairs into his room. “ He usually keeps his “secret treasures” behind the mirror or under the carpet,” I remembered.
Soon, I left triumphantly with the two keys in my hand, skipping steps and pondering about what could be behind the door. Of course, I knew the house wasn’t haunted like in “The Canterville Ghost”, but I still hoped to find a secret room or a tunnel passage at least.
Back in the basement, I tested out the first key. It would not fit. So would the second key. I stomped my foot on the floor in anger. Where was that key?!!!
Or…….Maybe some magic phrase would work! “Abracadabra, open up!” I croaked. Of course the door didn’t budge. I leaned against it, wiping my brow, thinking what to do. The excitement made way to bitter disappointment.
I heard a creak. I jumped. Slowly the door swung open, and I found myself in a cement pit with a rusted metallic ceiling and two handles. I pushed it up and with a horrible squeaky sound it opened. Sunlight flooded the basement.
My brother was standing frozen mid-pose in the backyard. “Wow! How did you do that?!” I blinked hard and rubbed my eyes.
So I had not discovered a passage, or portal, or a secret room; just the trapdoor from the basement into the backyard. “You created a door!” My brother looked genuinely impressed. “No, it was already there,” I sighed. It was so disappointing! Half the day spent in useless efforts! “Did you do the laundry?” I heard my mother's voice through the kitchen window.“Oh… Well, on an upside,” I contemplated pouring detergent over the dirty clothes, “We have a new key on our collection.”
The secret door is imagination depiction of child mind where a fairly and a globin king roam around in her fertile dreams with magic wand , casting spells .
It was holiday and I was picking sweet smelling flowers from the wood when I saw something shemmering. I felt scared and as I went closer , my heart started to thump in my chest . I was so scared that I felt like running away , but I was curious so I didn't want to go back.....