The teachers made a grave mistake when they told me to explore the school. Coming into freshman year, the staff probably doubted I would dig myself into much of a mess, but then again, they didn’t know me very well – yet.

The first day of school I noticed a small door at the base of each of the staircases. It looked like a gnome hideout and naturally I felt it necessary to discover what was inside. I walked to the door and crouched. I yanked on the handle and, much to my delight, the door opened.Photo by Peter Baugh

But the inside was uneventful. It was a storage facility for chairs. Before I could crawl farther into the room’s depths, a passing teacher informed me it was off limits.

Darn. My quest  continue, though. I also noticed a secret space in the men’s restroom. It had a door as well, and, without hesitation, I pulled it open. This room was much more interesting then the cellar for chairs. There were pipes all over and it was pretty wide.

I looked at the floor. Suddenly my heart skipped a beat. A red substance lay across the ground: blood.

It was a murder.

The blood was from a dead body. I sprinted down to the commons to inform my friends.

Again my excitement didn’t last long. One of my classmates had a flashlight and I discovered the red substance was only paint.
Perhaps my favorite adventure was the hidden basement under Stuber Gym.

One day, I walked out of P.E. Coach Ford had worked us hard and I was sweaty. Near the locker room was a wooden door marked ‘STORAGE’. Instantly, I wondered what it could hold.

I ran up to it and flung the door open. There was about four feet of concrete, then a drop of about five feet. A dull ladder led to the ground. I was in awe.

This room needed exploring.

However, the bell was about to ring. My adventure was going to have to wait.

After school, I brought a friend with me to explore.

We climbed down, and reached the ground.

The floor was not the normal tile or concrete in CHS, it was dirt. And the ceiling hung low, we dodged pipes as we walked. The temperature was brisk and it smelled odd, like dust and stale milk. There were plastic bags and dusty cups from old restaurants. It took me only two seconds to form my decision: this was my favorite place in the whole school.

Unfortunately, since then, I have been told this secret basement place is off limits. I had it all to myself for around two weeks. I guess all good things must come to an end.