Locked

A key. It was all that was left for me before my dad took off into the sea. It is old, rusty, and the door that is was made for probably withered away long ago. It's my most prized possession. Me and my mom live in Newfoundland on the coast of a foggy sea. Where exactly in Newfoundland, I couldn't tell you. All I know is that we moved here before I was born. I've only seen somebody else when I was exploring the woods surrounding our house, even if it was only for a brief second. My mom never left the house. She was always in her room talking to herself. For the short time she did come out, it was usually to grab one of the strange trinkets cluttering our already small house. I know that she is looking for something, and she was going to find it no matter what. The only time I ever entered the room was when I heard someone talking back to her. When I entered, she was alone. Now she's gone. A few days ago she walked into the sea. I'm alone, and I'm going to find the door for this stupid key.