"Where the way is hardest, there go thou; follow your own path and let people talk."

Dante Alighieri

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The painting was once full of beauty. In the foreground, it portrayed a woman on a swing smiling in a green garden. Her pink slipper dangling on the tips of her toes. But now, the emerald green garden transformed into a fire-pit, her skin molting away, and bits of her skeleton became visible. Her face contorted into a painful grimace. The surrounding trees turned into fire and brimstone. Thick fences of barbed wire and tall spikes were present in the background. “How is this even possible?” I asked Senovio, astonished. I ran my fingers through my dark hair, trying to contemplate what was happening.

Senovio shrugged his shoulders. He was at a loss for words. My brother tightened his grip on the candelabra and motioned us to follow him down the hall. “Uh Ma...” said Senovio, as he strolled down the hall. “Por favor, ayudame.” He began to make the Sign of the Cross hand gesture. I looked at him, confused, and I slapped the back of his shoulder. “Senovio, cut it out!” I snapped. “That’s not even our religion!”

“That doesn’t matter,” said Senovio as we turned another corner. “I regret this already. Listen, Carmen. Mom and Dad told us as little kids, that’s your age, Henry, not to mess with this kind of stuff. This is the garbage that you don’t mess around with.” I rolled my eyes. For any of you who are confused. Let me clarify something. Whenever Senovio got scared, he would ramble about the craziest things his brain could think of. That was his way of coping with his psyche; which is understandable. However, his ramblings would sometimes get so obnoxious that I wished I had knitting needles. The reason? So, I could stab my eardrums to silence his clucking chicken voice. “And sure enough, we slipped our way into this threshold,” I retorted, as I stopped in front of a door.

Lord help us in this situation. I thought to myself as I stared at the old wooden door. Henry tugged at my sleeve, looking at me bug-eyed. He pointed to the scowling busts. I covered his eyes as we walked past them. I picked up Henry and hurried down the hall to catch up with our brother. “It’s okay,” I whispered to Henry. I rubbed the back of his head and followed Senovio. We walked towards a pulsating door that ribbeted down the corridor. “What is this?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied, standing next to him. My eyes narrowed as I focused on the wood in the middle of the door. “But it looks like it’s...breathing,” I pointed at the door’s belly. It expanded and contracted. My hand reached for the golden handle and gripped it. “Wait,” Senovio said, stopping me from opening the door. I looked at him, confused.

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“What is it now?” I asked him. I was getting irritated at this point. Senovio leaned towards me and whispered. “You don’t know what’s on the other side,” he told her. I frowned. My lips tightened into a thin line. I was surprised Senovio had some sense in him, more than I figured. But I wasn’t about to tell him anything that was necessary. Since we had our little brother in our care.

“How do you know that there might be something,” I spat, my words trailed away. I looked at Henry. I returned my gaze back at Senovio. I covered his ears, and whispered. “Peculiar that pertains to the other side of the door?” Senovio crossed his arms and gave a long sigh. “Because this is an unfamiliar house,” Senovio replied. “We’ve never been in this section of the house.” I hung my head and slouched forward. “And how do you know that’s not a bunch of rubbish?” I asked. Senovio leaned over to answer, but before he could say anything, I pulled the handle down and pushed it open.

We stepped into the room, Senovio stood close to Henry and I. He held the candelabra in his hand. We stared into the darkness. I could feel my little brother clasp my shoulder with his tiny hands and buried his face in my neck. “Carmen,” he whispered, “I’m scared...I want to go home.” I placed a hand on the back of his head. My fingers tangled in his ginger hair. Out of instinct, I held him tighter than ever. Then I reassured him everything was going to be fine. We were going to find a way back. He seemed to a bit convinced. A numbing feeling formed at the base of my gut. I was worried that he didn’t believe me at all. “Hey Carmen,” Senovio said as he approached an antique phonograph in the middle of the room. A single glowing chandelier that dangled from the moldy ceiling illuminated it. “What is this thing?”

“A phonograph,” I replied.

“When was it invented?” he asked.

“Uh...1877 I believe?” I replied.

Senovio froze. “1877?” he asked. I nodded in response. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. My brother had grown deeply confused, unsure what in the world was going on. Senovio pressed his lips together and shook his head once more. “Why would something from the 1870s be sitting in a room from the 1830s?” he asked.

“I don’t know, maybe someone gave it to the Park Rangers to keep at the Baudelaire house?” I replied. Senovio shook his head, disagreeing with my response. “I don’t think the Park Rangers would send a phonograph to the third floor.” I looked at him, confused. I adjusted my arms to keep Henry from falling, and then I questioned my brother about what he meant by the “third floor.” Senovio looked at me and pointed out towards the window. Lightning illuminated the sky for a split second. Within that split second, I saw the tips of the gargoyles’ wings peeking out from the side of the window. I grabbed Senovio’s hands and asked him how we got up here. “We didn’t even pass through the locked doors of the staircase that led to this level,” I told him.

Senovio was quiet for a moment, trying to recollect how we got here. Then his eyes grew wide. “The hidden doorway,” he said. He nodded his head. “Remember how you said, ‘our only way is up?’” I gave him a slow nod and told him I remember telling him that.

“Why?” I asked him.

“That hidden staircase leads us up here. It all makes sense now.”

Senovio turned and approached the phonograph. “I think if I play this thing, it might tell us a way out.” Senovio wrapped his fingers around the hand crank of the phonograph and spun it.