I was lying in bed when it happened. The cellar started to growl! I turned over and tried to ignore it but, it happened again. The cellar was definitely growling. It wasn’t a scary or an eerie growl. It was just a growl.

Getting out of bed, I traveled the three steps to the closet in the dark. I tried to find my slippers without turning on the light because I’m a caring, compassionate, loving husband who didn’t want to disturb his wife with these late night issues. On my way back from the closet, I checked the clock on the night stand. It was 11:10 PM.

The hallway echoed my footfalls as I rounded the corner into the kitchen. The growling was getting louder and it seemed to be making a sucking noise on every third growl. Grabbing my flashlight which was on the stairway ledge, I went down to the family room and opened the cellar door. The growling noise got louder.

Shining the flashlight into the abyss, I cautiously entered “No Man’s Land”! The walk over to my workbench was interrupted by a noise above my head. Shining my flashlight up in the ceiling, I saw a mouse drop off a rafter. The mouse just dropped and went splat on the floor. Dead!

I tried to console myself. If he was making the growling noises, I was glad he was dead. Then again, I thought, what if the perpetrator of the sucking, growling sound killed the mouse?

Flashlight in hand, I cautiously scanned the perimeter of the cellar. I took one more step towards the furnace when I fell in the hole. This hole was about 20” deep. I never noticed this hole before, so I figured it must be a new hole. The sucking, growling noise started up once again. This was more ominous than before because now I could feel the sucking motion on my whole body. I likened the sensation to when I put my finger in my infant daughter’s mouth years ago and felt the sucking reflex work on my finger. The sensation was the same except that my whole body was being sucked down into this hole.

Being a concerned, caring, infinitely good natured husband and father made me keep my scream to myself. I put my finger in my own mouth this time to stifle myself. What was going on here? I decided to fight back. I reached down to my feet and felt for the sucking movement and started to tickle. The floor began to laugh! It wasn’t a sad laugh. It was a laugh that said, “I’m having fun but please stop!”

I asked, “Why are you picking on me?”

The floor answered, “Being a compassionate, caring, concerned and lovable floor isn’t always easy. The wall in your bedroom told me that you hadn’t written in your journal today. It was 11:05 PM and you seemed to be out for the night. It seemed the least we could do was give you something to write about”.

I thanked the floor for being so considerate, caring and compassionate as well as being ingenious enough to make growling, sucking noises and to be able to dig a hole on such short notice. I promised to go upstairs and put this in my journal. I finished at 11:59 PM. I spent the rest of the night wondering what else the walls knew about!