A Hid-E-Hole

The underground room was eight by eight. It had taken me almost all summer to make it. Now it was done. I looked up at the two by fours that held back the dirt and weeds I’d transplanted.

“There is no way anyone will ever find this place unless I show them where it’s at,” I said aloud.

The walls were lined with wooden shelves, stocked with canned goods. Bottles of water beneath the shelves. Blankets and survival gear were strewn about.

“I could live down here for weeks as a time,” I told myself.

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