The training.
Bruce found himself wandering the mansion.
12 bedrooms
4 kitchens
3 theatre rooms
A 10 x 10 pool
And a woodworking station his father made in the hopes of spending more time with bruce.
They spent hours there for weeks on end.
His father first taught him how to make a chair.
The chair was made of pine and used copper screws to achieve an art deco look with the soft linen white and red cushions. By the end, it looked like a mix between a barbers chair and the electric chair so they passionately named it "the Sweeney cot."
About as subtle as a gunshot but still comfy.
Then there was the rocking horse that they didn't get to finish.
It's sitting in the corner headless one-legged and the weight makes it appear as if it's turning to the side, in all honesty, it's probably about to break the roll down to the winery latch…
Bruce was always frightened of the winery.
Pitch black with only light at the end of the room.
Truth be told it's actually a very easy walk no more than 30 seconds but those seconds feel like minutes in the dark void.
It always gave Bruce the feeling like something was waiting for him.
As if it was inevitable that going down there was going to happen but this time without his father even before the death of his parents he had this fear.
Sitting on the chair facing the stairways latch it keeps enticing him.
His legs stiff and still yet could break at any minute if he tried to stand.
Bruce couldn't help being entranced by the latch.
The latch wasn't anything special dusty rusty and musty was the best description, if not ugly then at least it was boring.
No, the real standout was the fact that the latch would be very easy to open from underneath.
Sure there is a lock for it but that's across the room from the dreaded latch.
If anyone was in there if anything could get in there it could be watching back at him still and maybe even as afraid of him as he is of it, I mean why else would the latch still be shut right?.
Bruce had now forgotten about the latch turning his attention to making another leg for his horse.
The tools needed were simple enough.
Since his rocking horse was already taking on a blue and red theme it was probably best to start a pattern with the legs.
Since the right leg is red Bruce made the other blue making a two-toned pied piper appearance.
While distracted sharpening the tools he heard a faint thud beneath his feet.
Looking around it became evident that nothing could have fallen around him but underneath.
Bruce had paused "it's not real"
Bruce maybe 14 but the imagination was still a powerful thing.
He wanted to leave the room but the big problem was the way to the winery was blocking his way to the door.
Either had to go around or over, and he most certainly wasn't ready for that trip.
A few minutes go by as Bruce sits there failing to calm himself when he hears the sound again.
The world was like stained glass at this point
Every color and detail was heightened.
His breathing is stronger yet slower.
The blood pumping in his ears faster and faster as that jelly sensation rose again in his feet.
This was it. He had to go down there.
If he left the room he would just be a coward, there are a million reasons surely that anything could have dropped so why run now?.
He stands over the latch mallet in hand
The blood thundering to his eardrum almost like a tribesman's beat.
Knelt down fingers sweaty the boy grabs the latch tightly "three two, two, two one" he swings it back with his left-hand right hand with the mallet held high.
His breathing was fast and rough but soon stopped seeing nothing was there but darkness.