The Eternal Sleep: A Collection of Short Stories

The Young Boy and the Skeleton Key

The young boy entered the cavern at precisely 5:55AM, the crack of dawn. The only indicator of time in the dead of the barren wilderness was the milky orange light that surfaced on the width of the east horizon. It would be another half hour before the sun had risen.

As described to me (the humble scribe of this young boy's tale) the well that the boy stood at ran approximately sixty feet deep - although, it was impossible to tell for sure. The well darkened at twenty-five feet, and was pitch black by forty. The air that churned out of it was cold and like the breath of a monster. It had an indistinguishable scent, I'm told, one that is rank like a dog's, musty like a damp room's, and unforgiving, like... like a cavern that is supposed to hold the city's long lost treasure, the boy tells me.

I suspect that most of my readers already know of the treasure my young friend sought, but, on the unanticipated reality of this story reaching further audiences than I thought, I will describe it.

Our city is, by definition, the largest and "most noblest" in the sector of the New, New World. Our population is young, and our known history dates back several hundred years, for we are the birthplace of the 3-thousandth era. Alas, in our city, like the nursery rhymes and fables of the Old World, we have a story that tells of the wonders and dangers of the skeleton key.

Carved from the femur of the last remaining skeleton that perished in the Big Bang, the skeleton key is said to be able to fit any lock desired. Not unlike a key of a small complex, with a serrated edge, capable of opening ten to fifteen doors at will, however, much more powerful.

The skeleton key was believed to be so dangerous that it was (and this appears to have been true) locked away in an underground vault, accessible only by a well on the top of Northern Mountain.

And so, our young friend, stubborn yet devilishly clever (keep in mind that his boy is eleven years of age!), with a self-made harness attached to his waist and long coil of rope wrung 'round a stump of an ancient oak, descended down the sixty foot drop.

Upon the forty foot marker, now completely dark, the boy produced a set of matches that he held nimbly in one hand and continued to descend with the other.

It was ten feet later that the cold, sticky water, that smelled extremely now like the boy's grandmother's basement, as well as bat droppings (although he says there is little difference), presented itself in the light of the matches. Of course, this did not stop him. Attached to his rope only by the waist, the boy reached into his knapsack and dropped a jar of miniature glow-squids - completely harmless; they can be bought at any pet store, for those not familiar to our region - into the water, where they sank ten more feet and revealed the passage that lead into the next room.

Next came the most surmised step of action. The young boy, after sitting on the choice for a good few minutes, carefully lowered himself to the water's lapping edge, undid his harness, and plunged, still fully clothed, into the icy water.

He relays to me now that it was not as icy once his entire body felt numb. I expect our more empathetic readers will attest to the reassurance that I feel from that statement.

After several "scouts" in which the boy explored the bottom of the well and the beginning of the passage, on a burst of noble courage (his words, not mine), he scooped up the jar of miniature glow-squids, and swam for his gosh-darned life (again, not my words) as fast as humanly possible into the passage, a hole the size of a double-doorway, and, within twenty seconds, surfaced on the other side in a great cavern of complete darkness.

Here, the smell of grandmother's basement/bat droppings was strongest.

With help from the glow-squids in the glow-squid jar, the young boy, after escaping from the frigid water and wringing out his hair and shirt, trod carefully into the cavern. He tells me that it is unbeknownst to him how expansive that cavern really was, although he reports the sightings of reflective metal in the cave walls - perhaps a failed bunker from the time of the Big Bang?

Regardless, our story draws to a close. Because it was within this room that an old, barnacle covered safe sat. Having created its own sort of crater in the rocky earth, the boy had to find a way to uncover it from the ground, where half of it had been swallowed.

However, our resourceful protagonist, recognizing that the safe was decrepit to say the least, was able to, with a large, jagged rock, pry the very top (which, for those who are unfamiliar with safes, are not supposed to be removed, especially with such ease) from the metal box, and easily reach inside.

Plucked with haste, not thirty minutes since entering the well, was the fabled skeleton key, small - the size of a ring finger - and craggy to the touch.

After his escape from the cave, the rest is public knowledge. The little bandit proceeded to rob three consecutive condominiums of their toilet rolls, nightgowns, gaming consoles, welcome mats, and mobile chargers.

Just last week, he was given thirty days of parole on account of thievery and overall mischief. Do I disagree with this? No. By getting to know our young protagonist, I am able to see that a few hours of community engagement will not hurt him.

However, there was one thing that I failed to understand, and pounced upon to ask him.

When asked why he sought the skeleton key, the young boy shrugged at me and said, "I was real bored."