11. If Walls Could Talk #2
After the third attempt, she dropped to all four paws, hanging her head over the edge of the shelf in defeat. This was torture. She’d lost the ability to perform even the simplest of spells.
“The secret of the house was that magic shared is magic multiplied. We’re better together. We need each other to survive. The house understood that secret, and her very special role.”
Minerva continued to recite the story, as much for herself as for the house.
Minerva’s broom was barely seven feet away, its pearl inlaid monogram sparkling in the artificial starlight.
It practically mocked her, sitting stationary in the corner like that.
It was wrong in so many ways. Suddenly, it dawned on her.
It wasn’t only wrong that the broom wasn’t responding.
The broom shouldn’t have been there in the first place.
She would never have left it beside the door like that! That was a reckless place to leave such a precious item. Minerva’s broom belonged on the broom stand in the hall closet, not leaning against the wall bristles down!
Had she summoned the broom whilst running from the wizard? Or perhaps the broom had come to her aid, holding the door for her, and blocking anyone else from coming in? She wished she could recall.
Minerva crept down to the other end of the shelf, squinting to get a look at the broom from a better, closer angle.
Her movement activated the glittering lights in the wall and the motion lit her path as she crawled to the end closest to the door.
Once again, she flattened her body on the shelf and hung her head over the edge.
There was a bit of something silver and shiny caught in the broom’s bristles.
Too hard to tell what it was from up here, with her lousy eyesight.
She would have to get closer to see. But, of course, this would require navigating a path back down to the floor and she was back to her original dilemma.
She still did not know how she was going to get down.
The ground was looking farther and farther away by the moment.
Minerva tried not to panic. She had to stay on task.
Get to the clock.
“The house sheltered and cared for her creatures. And in return, her creatures cared for her as well. They kept her clean and well fed with fairy tales and folklore. Over time, the house grew and expanded, and her capacity for magic grew as well. She learned discretion and the importance of keeping some secrets—that not all stories were meant to be shared with everyone. She could be trusted with this important task.”
Minerva had no way of knowing if the Mudpuddle heard her, but reciting the story was helping her to stay calm.
She could see into the hallway from this end of the shelf. How simple it would be to walk back to the bookshop in her human form. It was just three steps up, down the hall, and through the foyer.
Three steps up.
She’d almost forgotten about the stairs. She’d need a plan for climbing the stairs. Those steps represented mountains to a mouse. Sheer cliffs. But this was a problem for later. First, she would need to get down from this blasted shelf.
“Some people say that a house can’t have feelings. But those people have never lived in a magical house like the Mudpuddle, and I feel so sorry for them.”
Frustrated, Minerva retraced her steps back to the basket.
Perhaps she could use the yarn to fashion some sort of harness and rappel her way down to the floor? If only there was something to attach it to. But of course there was nothing, except the basket itself, and she had no confidence it would hold her.
Foiled again, she sat still at the edge of the shelf, thinking and wishing she had a parachute or a paper airplane to glide down upon. The lights began to fade.
“No. No. No. No. No! Stop that!” Minerva leapt to her feet and hopped in place. She flapped her mouse arms frantically. She was very grateful for the extra bit of balance afforded by her tail. “Don’t you dare go dim on me now, house! I need your help to show me the way!”
All at once the lights in the wall above the crown molding pulsed, illuminating the top edge of the crown molding.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” Minerva squeaked. “Do you understand me?”
In response, the entire room lit up in a dramatic burst of pulsating starlight that traveled up from the floor in a wave.
When the wave broke on the ceiling, there was a bright flash, like lightning.
Then the room settled back into semi-darkness.
Minerva blinked to clear the spots from her vision.
The room was dark now, except for a single track of lights tracing a path along the white crown molding.
She looked up. Curiously, the light seemed to come from behind the molding.
Cautiously, Minerva climbed up the handle of the basket to get a better look.
She rose up on two legs, standing on her tiptoes to edge closer to the wall.
From here she could see that the top ledge of the crown molding didn’t quite meet the ceiling.
There was a small gap there. Too small to notice from the floor, but not too small for a tiny mouse, such as herself, to squeeze into.
This was where the light was coming from.
Taking a deep breath, Minerva reached out with her front paws and attempted to pull herself up to the top edge. Her feet scrabbled for purchase against the wood. She managed to grab onto a carved ridge in the molding with her toes and reached her head into the small gap.
From there, it was easy. Once her head, arms, and torso were through, she could stretch herself out and shimmy the rest of her body up and into the crawl space.
She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she dearly hoped that she’d find some other pathway back to the store.
Even if it meant traveling through the walls.
She was sure her sharp teeth could gnaw through plaster, though she didn’t want to test that theory.
She didn’t suspect aged plaster was nearly as palatable as aged cheddar.
As the lights came up in the space behind the crown molding Minerva blinked and struggled to focus on the incredible sight before her.
She was expecting to find herself in a rough and unfinished crevice, at best. She was certainly not expecting to see a wall-papered hallway with elaborate tiny paintings and sconces that stretched out before her like a dollhouse owner’s dream.
Landing with a soft flump on the patterned carpet she marveled at her new surroundings. How could this be? She’d been certain she knew every nook and cranny of the Mudpuddle.
So how was it possible that she’d missed this tiny network of hallways and rooms, hiding in plain sight?