Middle of the Week Motivation

Doors and the Adventures They Bring

"Office key, car key," Mark mumbled under his breath, going through his key ring. "House key and what the f***?" he asked, stopping over one key in particular. It was rather old-fashioned, like a skeleton key and quite rusted. "How did this get here?" He questioned.

With one last look at this odd key, he shoved it off, entered his house. The door swung shut as he closed it behind him, dropping his shoes there and kicking them closer to the wall so they were out of the way. He went about on his merry way, petting his dog Chica and filling up her food bowl from the box that lay on the counter. He brushed his red hair out of his eyes, washing his hands at the kitchen sink, staring out the window as he dried his hands. He turned, throwing the paper towel in the trash can, before freezing. The paper towel gently floated down into the depths of the trash, and Mark turned back to look outside, a confused look spreading across his face. He surveyed his back yard with his chocolate eyes, only to find that things weren't exactly normal. He put his hands on the counter's surface, leaning over the sink to get a better view as he peered out the window.

Sitting in the back-left corner of his yard was a little shack, cabin type building. Rubbing his eyes and staring again, he concluded that it was not his imagination, leading him to go investigate. Grabbing his shoes, and putting them on yet again, he gave Chica a pat on the head.

"If I'm not back within an hour, go get the police." He joked, pressing a kiss to her fur and heading outside.

If only he knew how true those words would be. He approaches the shack, and found it larger than he expected. It was still quite small however, only seeming to be a room or two. Mark tentatively reached out and poked the small building, as if to see if it was really there. He wasn't quite sure which one would scare him more, if it was there, or if it wasn't. Upon poking it, (multiple times) and finding out it was real, Mark tried the door. It was, of course, locked. He sighed, yanking on the door even harder, only to find it wouldn't budge. He was about to give up until he heard his keys jingle in his pocket. He stopped and pulled the ring out of his pocket, staring at the old-timey, skeleton key curiously. Figuring he might as well try it, he stuck the key in the hole. It fit. It turned. The door opened.

He smiled, removing the key and shoving the ring back in his pocket before walking through the open door. Rubbing his hands together, Mark he surveyed the room. Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him, scaring Mark. He let out a less than manly scream and cleared his throat nervously.

"Well then," He said, trying to fill the dark, emptiness.

Not a few seconds later, the lights flickered before remaining constant, revealing 5 doors. They made a half circle kind of shape and they were all the same. They were all locked. "Again, with this?" Mark grumbled. Pulling out his keychain, planning on using the skeleton key to leave this weird old place, he now noticed a new key added to his ring. This one looked like a Mortice key.

Almost instinctively, Mark took the Mortice key and approached the first door on his left. He inserted the key and unlocked, then grabbing the knob and twisting. Mark cringed as the rusted knob squeaked as he turned it, which took more force than Mark expected. He opened the door and stepped inside, immediately feeling a strong tension in the air. Mark could feel a heavy sensation in this room, almost a sad feeling. Mark hunched his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around himself, instinctively trying to protect himself. He looked around the empty indigo colored room, and he almost burst into tears.  There was a single door across from the one he had just entered, a small beam of light showing through the adjacent door. Mark forced himself forward and opened the door, walking into a room that seemed all too familiar to him.

It was his childhood bedroom. Angry yells could be heard in another room. His parents yells. Mark listened to his parents squander for a minute or two before he got on his hands and knees and looked under his bed, spotting a small child, quivering in fear. Mark forced himself to not cry as he stared at the child version of himself, remembering the fear he felt when he heard his parents scream at each other. The small Mark suddenly made eye contact with modern day Mark. They stared at each other for awhile, Mark slowly remembering the feeling he had one day as he was hiding. Someone was staring at him. It didn't feel threatening, it felt empathetic. Mark reached under the bed and gently put his hand over small Mark's hand. Small Mark's eyes widened and Mark reluctantly let go, standing up and approaching the second indigo door.