Minutes later, Orion emerged again, this time carrying what looked like a child’s toy—a small wooden horse missing its tail. Bile rose in Eliza’s throat. A creeping dread told her these items weren’t just lost trinkets; they were echoes of a family’s past—maybe from a frightened child.
When Eliza returned to the museum with the toy, Dr. Ellis found a nearly invisible date scratched into the underside: 1940. “Someone definitely stashed these items away,” the curator mused. “Or perhaps a child hid them during an air-raid scare.”
She advised Eliza to investigate the living room, referencing some of the note’s barely legible instructions about a hidden hatch “five feet from the north wall.” A swirl of questions flooded her mind. A secret passage or chamber beneath her house?
Eliza’s skin tingled. Was it possible her house contained an entire hidden room she knew nothing about? Dr. Ellis gently traced the lines, mentioning that the note might be from the late 1930s or early 1940s, just before the U.S. entered World War II.
Most startling was a line describing this space as a protected shelter for a family seeking safety during bombing threats. Dr. Ellis explained that while widespread bombing in the U.S. during WWII was unlikely, people still built hidden rooms out of fear and uncertainty.
The note ended abruptly, hinting at diaries or records left in that concealed area. “You have to investigate,” Dr. Ellis said, eyes shining. “If you do find something substantial, let the museum know. This could be an incredible piece of local history.”