January 2, 1985
I'm excited. Harper's been pestering me, trying to figure out what it is that's got me up in such a boot-stomping ruckus - but I can't tell her. Not yet. This discovery is just too good to be true. I think Mom and Dad left me something in the secret rooms. Yes, Thornton Hall has secret rooms, along with a few trap doors and oddly-placed bags of cotton. You name it, we've got it. Well, except for a make-it-yourself cheeseburger stand. You'd think that with all the money we Thorntons have, we'd have built a cheeseburger-making stand somewhere in this old house. Maybe even a grits dispenser. But no, of course we haven't. Never mind my rantings, I'm hungry. And I'm gettin' off track.
Not many of the Thorntons know about the trap doors, and my parents intended to keep it that way. I don't know why they did it. When I was a kid, I used to beg my dad to let me take Wade into the basement, have Harper hide in a trap door, and then get her to jump out and scary him silly. I knew it'd wipe that smug little grin off his face. Not to be mean, of course. Wade always did love a good scare. But Dad always shook his head and said, "No." That's all he ever said, of course. I loved my dad to bits - still do, in fact - but his tongue-tied problem often left me confused and wanting a better answer. Guess that's why Mom and I were always closer. She had the magic to tell me what Dad never could. So, naturally, it was Mom who told me 'bout the whole deal with the secret rooms 'n passageways.
"Charlotte, those passageways are secret for a reason." Mom's sweet and kind voice would always kinda hush down whenever she talked about something serious, but when it came to the secret passageways, she became even quieter than usual. "They aren't to be meddled with." Her eyebrows would knit together, and then she'd stop. I was just a twelve-year-old kid when I first found the secret passageways. I didn't know enough to stop asking questions. I was too curious. I'd ask her why we couldn't play in the passageways. "You know that we Thorntons haven't always had a clean past, right Charlotte?" I'd nod my head. Mom used to tell me about the Thornton family's history. She was right, not all of it was pretty. Especially the Night of the Fifty-Four Souls. "Well, hanging around in those passageways can do things to the mind. I can't right explain it, sweetie... but it's not a good idea to be playing down there. Only go into the secret passageways if it's a dire emergency." And then she'd stop. She wouldn't say anything else, and if I asked, she'd suddenly become cheery again and start talking about my friends or what we were making for dinner that night.
I never understood what my mother meant by that. That the secret passageways did things to people's minds. I've never heard of a crazy Thornton. Maybe I'm being too nice (I do that a lot), but my living family is just too kind for that kind of stuff. Sure, we've all got our ghosts and secrets, but we're the Thorntons. It'd be weird if we suddenly became normal. I doubt it's possible for this family to be normal. After all, Harper and I are the ones with a graveyard for a backyard. But that's the way we like it.
Agh, I'm getting off-track again! I promise to finish my story this time. Dang it, if I don't learn to stop rambling, I'll never have enough pages in this diary to last me a month.
I found a necklace in the earthen hallways of one of the trap doors. It's one of the ones in the basement, the one that leads down underneath the front porch. This is what was bugging me the other day! Mom used to tell me stories about one of our ancestors, a woman - I can't remember her name for the life of me - who was a spy in the Civil War. Well, this necklace I found, I'm sure it was hers. It's gorgeous. Old, black, with an intricate middle section riddled with buttons. I accidently pushed one of the buttons when I first found the necklace. I don't know how it works yet, but I plan to research the Civil War to find out more about this. Until then, I'm keeping the necklace in my room, locked away in my writing desk drawer.
I know what Mom said about the trap doors, but it was her who used to tell me stories about the Civil War. Who else could have left the necklace in that little hallway? Besides, I'm the heir to the Thornton estate. I love my mom, and I trust what she said. But I'm seventeen years old, nearly an adult. It's time for me to figure out some things about this family. I'm sure I'll be okay.