Loretta's Labyrinth

Key on a Rope

My sight of my first memory is nothing short of hazy; even painful. Like peering into an unclear reflection through the water, but something inside the murk stares back at you. I recall just that: an image of my childish and soft face, as the salty and restoring scent of the ocean blows the wet hair out of my eyes; but I don't remember the ocean itself. I don't remember gazing out at the waves, nor at the sky. 

The echo of my mind endures. In it, I turn towards my parents as they call from a wooden walkway. Heading out through a tight trail while the beach sand fills my shoes, encompassed by holly bushes with jagged-edged leaves (perhaps I even cut myself on them); though; vibrant and beautiful red berries on the end of each stem. I casually pick one as I jog forwards.

The boardwalk cut between the bushes and the walls of houses where intricate porches were set up, giving home to swing-benches, and unlit lanterns ready to shine when night came; but nobody else was around. 

My memory has briefly recorded the many smells and feelings we passed. The scent of hotdogs and roasted marshmallows over a fire, as well as the smoke which blew over the fence and into my eyes.

After a long walk over the bridge, we took a left onto a brick road to arrive in the town's marketplace. The walls to each house were flat and tan, with bright red roof shingles. The market itself, was brimming with people; although, each face comes out only as blurred sketches to me.

I follow my father to a stand ran by a woman with scraggily grey hair nearing her late years. She wore a black cotton kilt, with a pink linen shirt tucked in. On her forehead, she wore a deep blue kerchief; all in all, resembling a psychic. Hidden in the shade, she sold freshly cut fish and newly gathered fruits: mostly apples and cantaloupes, with a woven basket of pomegranates on the ground beside her. 

Hanging from the canopy, was a key dangling on a rope, spinning, but never swaying. 

Even as the wind nearly blew the trader over and easily collapsed a rival's food stand, the key stayed spinning hypnotizingly in place. My mother gave a muted snicker, yet despite the uproar behind--me as my father sprung forth to assist the merchant--I kept my eyes glued to the key. It didn't stir, no matter how the wind blew. 

"You can be curious about the key?" The woman remarked, as though it were invisible to most. To make it even more odd, her voice was that of an older teen girl, and just as enthusiastic as one might be. "That's the key to a Labyrinth. It's called, Loretta's Labyrinth. You're the first one who's shown interest in it. I suppose . . . I could be persuaded to sell it to you. A young lad like you may benefit from it."

"I heard about a Labyrinth in a book I read, is it that Labyrinth?" I asked ignorantly but was cut off by my parents.

"Honey, these prices are a steal," exclaimed my father happily, rushing back from the opposing stands.

My mother laughed cynically. "That might be true, but low is a fitting price for food that's been bruised dirtied after rolling across the ground." She walked with my father over to the other marketers. The old woman I stood below allowed them to leave without protest, and kept her keen focus on me.

"Would it be an invasion of privacy if I may be allowed your name, Sir?" she asked me. At use of sir, I pouted my chest proudly--though I was only a witless eight-year-old.

"Amon's the name," I squeaked.

"That's a strong name, and capable and sturdy; indeed, you don't hear names like that often . . ." She leaned over, resting her chin on her palm, and gazed deeply into my eyes. "The key is not the only entrance to the Labyrinth, Amon. This key will unlock an entrance below my stand, you see, you need only by shove it into the crack between two stone. Although, if you look, with your eyes unblinking and prying hard, you'll find many more entrances across the city." Her fingers delicately untied the knot and removed it from the wooden beam above her head. The key sat in her wrinkled hands. "Should you obtain this key, you think?"

"Yes, please Ma'am!" As a child, the twisting formation of the key heightened my interest. I gave little thought to what dangers a Labyrinth could contain.

"Then I'll leave it right here." She tied the two ends of the rope together once more, and set the key openly on the center of her table in front of all her other products. "You may offer coin, which must amount to three silver pieces, or the best trade you can acquire. I've got matters to attend to; you may leave your coin--or trade--beneath the table. On top of the entrance to the Labyrinth."

She seemed certain the key wouldn't be taken, and she must have neither cared if anything else was stolen. She turned her back and trudged along. Like the ocean, I never looked up, and thus had no idea where she left to, or what business she had which was so urgent.