## **Chapter 5: Theory #3 – Mount for a Ceiling Fan or Crank System (Interesting)**

This theory had its share of fans (no pun intended). Some suggested the disc was a **mounting point** for an old-fashioned **ceiling fan** or even a **crank-based ventilation system**.

Before central HVAC, homeowners relied on mechanical fans—some ceiling-mounted, some operated via hand-crank pulleys—to circulate air, especially in basements prone to mold.

Supporting evidence:

* The circular pattern in the metal plate resembled old crank hubs.
* The symmetrical design suggests **rotation or movement** at some point.
* It’s near an air vent—possibly an old **ventilation shaft**.

But again:

* No cranks or pulleys were left behind.
* No wiring or vent ducts confirmed this theory.

**Verdict:** Fascinating, could be true if the home had early ventilation retrofits.

—

## **Chapter 6: Theory #4 – Anchor Point for a Hanging Chair or Swing (Unlikely)**

Some DIY home enthusiasts offered a more whimsical idea: what if the disc had once held a **hanging chair**, **indoor swing**, or **gym rings**?

The holes could be for rope, the central metal plate for rotation.

However:

* It’s in a **basement** — not an ideal hangout or yoga zone.
* The holes are too small and too far apart for swing hardware.
* The structure is overbuilt for such casual use.

**Verdict:** Fun to imagine, but highly unlikely in 1920s construction.

—

## **Chapter 7: Theory #5 – Paranormal Portal (Internet Humor Edition)**

As with any good internet mystery, someone inevitably suggested:

> “It’s a **portal to another dimension**. Don’t open it.”

Another added, “Looks like a **medieval sealing disc**. Whatever’s in the basement… leave it there.”

And then came the Photoshop edits: ghost eyes, spiraling vortexes, and fake ancient runes.

Owen and Amanda had a good laugh.

**Verdict:** For entertainment purposes only (we hope).

—

## **Chapter 8: Time for a Real Investigation**

With all these theories floating around, Owen decided to take action:

* He **unscrewed one of the bolts**, revealing a deeply embedded anchor shaft — industrial grade.
* He **used a borescope camera** to peek into the holes: no internal parts, just hollow space beyond.
* He even borrowed a **metal detector** from a neighbor to check for buried electrical elements — none found.

They called a local home inspector with experience in older homes. After examining it in person, he agreed with the most likely theory:

> “This is almost certainly an old **pulley or hoist mount**. These were common in homes that had basement storage. The homeowners likely lifted heavy barrels, crates, or coal using a simple block-and-tackle system mounted right here.”

—

## **Chapter 9: A Look Back at Home Design in the 1920s**

Why would a simple bungalow need a hoist?

Let’s rewind to 1923, the year Owen and Amanda’s house was built.

In that era:

* Homes were often **heated with coal**.
* Coal was delivered via **chutes into the basement**, where bins stored it.
* Some homeowners used rope systems to move coal or wood upstairs.
* Even food was sometimes stored in basement “cool rooms” and raised via dumbwaiter-like systems.

This mounting disc could be a **leftover component** from any number of practical uses — a pulley, a crank, a vent, or even a custom hoist created by the home’s first owner.

And the decorative center?

“Utility can be beautiful,” the inspector shrugged. “Craftsmanship mattered back then. Even a pulley mount might’ve been finished with metalwork.”

—

## **Chapter 10: Final Verdict — A Forgotten Tool From Another Era**

Amanda decided to leave the disc in place.

“I kind of like it,” she said. “It’s a reminder that someone else lived here, worked here, thought through the same problems in a totally different way. And they built this with care.”

Owen added a small plaque beneath it that reads:

> “1923 — Original Basement Hoist Mount (Probably)
> Left here in honor of whoever needed to lift something heavy.”

They didn’t get definitive proof. But they got **context, history, and connection** to a time when home life required a bit more grit — and a lot more clever solutions.

—

## **Conclusion: When the Ordinary Becomes Extraordinary**

Sometimes, the most mundane things in a home — an odd bolt, a strange panel, a wooden circle on the ceiling — can become windows into the past.

They tell stories about the people who lived there, the challenges they faced, and the creative ways they solved them. These aren’t just fixtures. They’re **artifacts**.

If you’ve ever discovered something strange in