The Last Key

Chapter One

"Clover," Clover's dad Richard called, "the moving truck is here!"

Clover looked out at her window at the truck that was about to ruin her life. She picked up her cat, Dixon, and rubbed his speckled ear.

"I'm scared, Dixy," she said, tears beginning to flood her cheeks.

She soon went back to boxing up her things and bringing them down to the truck.

Grabbing her favorite tie-dye hair tie, she put up her long, light brown hair and headed for her dad's car.

If only she knew. . .

                                                                                           *

"Are you sure that this house isn't haunted?" Clover asked her dad as they pulled into the bumpy driveway.

"Look Clove, I know you are upset but can you just try to be happy," her dad asked, "for me,"

Clover gave her dad a phony smile, then looked back out the window at the house.

I don't want to live here, Clover thought to herself.

Clover started walking around the house until she found her room.

She opened the door with a squeak and looked inside. It was cleaner than she thought it would be, but it smelled a little musty.

The carpet was a stained cream carpet, followed by pale white wallpaper.

Only one thing in the empty room really caught her attention though. There was painting on the wall of a little girl holding a basket and an old man. The man was holding something that resembled a stick of some sort. In the little girl's basket were flowers of orange and red.

Clover turned her glance away to examine the rest of the room.

Well, it'll do, Clover thought to herself.

"Clove honey," her dad called up to her, "I've got some more boxes for you,"

"Okay," Clover called back.

Her dad came into her room with a few boxes.

"Do you know what this painting is?" Clover asked her dad, pointing at the painting on the wall.

"Hmm...," Her dad rubbed his beard, "Don't know,"

A little while later Clover was unboxing her things. She noticed a small tear in the corner of the painting.

She got up to examine it, taking it off the wall.

CLANG!

Clover looked down to see a key that looked oddly familiar.

"Where did that come from?" Clover asked herself.

She bent down and picked it up, placing it in her palm.

"Ah!" She screamed dropping the key on the ground.

She looked down at her aching palm. The key had burned her in the shape of the key.

Her dad came running up the stairs, bursting through the door.

"What's going on?" He yelled.

Clover froze.

"Oh uh... the painting just fell off the wall. It just surprised me," Clover gave her most convincing smile.

"You want me to put it back up for you?" He asked her.

Clover shook her head, "No thanks,"

Her dad didn't seem a one hundred percent convinced, but finally left.

Clover went into the bathroom and wrapped her palm in toilet paper.

It wasn't much but it would do until she came up with an excuse for the odd burn on her hand.

She grabbed a hanger from her closet and poked the key to see if it was still hot.

Clover grabbed a sock and picked the key up off the ground.

It had what looked like a crown etched into it. There was a number 50 inside the crown.

Clover set the key down on her pillow, then put the painting back on the wall.

"There we go," She said, fixing the corner.

She stepped back to see if it was even and noticed something. The old man wasn't holding anything now and the small tear was now much larger.

Clover rubbed her eyes and looked again, but still his hands were empty.

I am not crazy, Clover said to herself.

"Clover, can I come in?" Her dad came in, "Time for bed,"

"Alright," Clover said back and pushed the key under her pillow.

"What happened?" Her dad asked, looking at the painting.

"Um I don't know. It was like that when we got here," Clover pulled her covers up to her chin, hoping he would leave soon.

"Well goodnight," He kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight Dad," Clover turned off her bedside lamp.

"I can take that painting out in the morning if you'd like,"

Clover nodded and closed her eyes.

Her dad left, but Clover could not fall asleep. She heard tapping on the window, knowing it was just the wind blowing on the trees but was still scared.

Slowly, she drifted off to sleep.