Like most old homes, the dollhouse basement is creepy. It is dark and damp. I do not know where all of the light switches and pull string bulbs are. I prefer to not go down there.
The dollhouse is built to last lifetimes. Her foundation has layers of sandstone, concrete and Fallston brick. She is a fortress!
The damp, cold energy hits you deep in your bones as you walk down the stairs into the basement. It feels small, compact and uncomfortable compared to the rest of the dollhouse.
I do not go down there unless I absolutely have to.
About halfway down the steps, I can feel the air thicken. I cannot stand completely upright. I am very short and I have plenty of room to stand tall, but my body will not do so. I find myself walking around hunched over, as if I am trying to fit in a very tiny space.
Our laundry room is currently down there and I am so thankful for Mike and his acceptance of my antics. I appreciate him so much! I will not go down there to do laundry.
The dollhouse basement has a pink tiled shower that will remind you of a horror movie scene. I do not know if it works.
In one dark corner, large stones are arranged like a seating area on the concrete floor. I do not know who put them there.
Another portion of the basement showcases where the home would have been heated and food cooked over a century and a half ago.
A wall of beautiful Fallston bricks can be seen on the back wall and nearby,
an entry way blocked off with bricks.
The sandstone wall cries as the rainwater seeps like tears through the sandstone. The basement saddens my heart.
I can feel the frustrations of the dollhouse ancestors as they all worried throughout the years. How many storms would she survive?
The first time that I walked the dollhouse, when I blessed it with the rosary, the basement terrified me. The energy is intense down there. It does not feel calm and loving like the dollhouse. It feels almost like a separate place. A dreadful, sad and scary place.
You feel like you are being watched down there. Watched by countless eyes. It feels overcrowded, but it is a big open space. We do not store much of anything down there.
One wall has a bricked off doorway to nowhere. My guess, is that it leads to the earth under the sunroom.
Previous owners and I have similar theories as to what it was utilized for.
I have a special group of close friends with incredible abilities. Each of them have walked the dollhouse and each of them were able to describe vivid details about the house and its ancestors.
Each of them noticed the difference in the energy of the basement in comparison to the rest of the house. They all had similiar visions and insight come to them as they walked the basement separately. The notes I gathered pieced together an interesting story.
Three steps down and the air thickens. Pressure fills your head and a weight bears down on your shoulders. Breathing gets difficult. Your chest begins to hurt.
Visions of sweat and dirt being wiped from the eyes of those who came into the basement from the tunnel. The heat of the fire dries their tattered garments soaked from the river. The glow of the fire illuminates the safety and protection of the great walls.
Blood soaked bandages are removed with care as muffled screams echo, as she bites down on the towel in agony.
Samuel feeds the fire as Emily feeds the survivors fruit. Miss Bessie sends Octavia upstairs for more clean bandages. These wounds are bad. Crying and screams echo throughout the basement walls.
Her wounds will heal in time.
Angry scars will be a reminder of the hell that she escaped.
She will heal in time.
She will live.
And in time, she will become alive.
She is safe.
This is her rebirth.
A new name if she wishes as well.
She now has a chance to live a new life.
The opportunity to become anyone that she wishes to be.
She lay screaming in pain on the basement floor.
Miss Bessie comforting her as best as she could.
Emily and Octavia has her squeezing their hands.
Samuel told her to look into his eyes and to not look away.
They locked stares as Elizabeth stitches her wound closed. Her screams make Emily cry.
The basement was intended to be a crossroads. A portal between hopes of living heaven on earth after experiencing hell and death.
A death and rebirth experience for many.
A vortex where worlds collide.
Chaos is the word to best describe how it feels down there.
Many experienced profound moments of true faith down there and came to understand deeply profound truths of the human psyche and heart.
I do not go down there unless I have to.
I am not ready to explore the basement or research where the possible tunnel may be. Maybe in time, I will feel otherwise. I have my ideas on its location and believe it will reveal itself when it wants to. I feel no need for any surprises nor do I desire to stumble across it.
I honor and respect those who where given the opportunity to live here and those that perished here. I am strongly against disrupting their peace, so I stay out of the basement. Their painful experiences are not mine to view. I have the gift to see clearly in the unseen, the past pains of others. Their lives play in my mind like old movie reels.Â
Everyone leaves their imprint in this world. Our energy signatures do not know of limitations within time and space. The dollhouse dates back to at least 1855 and has many stories to share.

So beautiful.