A burning cold swallowed the warmth that floated over me. My eyes poured open. Strands of silver cobwebs shifted across the dark room. My hand felt pricked by a thousand razors, but an unexpected warm touch soothed it. It was... soft. It was... Ow!
"Harry! She's alive! She's here!" the honey voice of Sally sang. She released her fiery grip. "Get over here!"
"Quiet!" Harry spit. "Three minutes until my mother's undertaker will be back. Help me put her in the wheelbarrow, come on." My head thudded against wood.
Sally squeaked, "Sorry, I can't see shit in this morgue!"
"Here, Thalia, this is from your mother." Harry said, he put my mother's key locket in my hand. "Sally, you push. I did this for you earlier."
Sally sighed. "Fine, but I swear if you take one unusual turn out of here!"
"I won't, I promise." Harry said.
I felt a sudden push and screech of tires. Dusty wind rushed through my hair, and the keys rattled against the metal barrow. My thumb brushed over inscribed letters that had been scribbled over the faces in the heart of the keys. Each had one word: "Choice," "Always."
YOU ARE READING
PersonaliKey
Ficción GeneralA world separated by personality type. In 2nd grade, you're given the first of many tests that determine what kind of person you are. Thalia comes from a famous family of geneticists, all of them scientific and logical types, and she mistakenly assu...
