I studied my hand; a large gold key had left a deep imprint in my skin. I had woken up grasping the key firmly without any recollection of how it ended up on a chain around my neck. My mind felt hazy as I tried desperately to remember what I had been doing last night. The cheap alarm clock beside the bed I was lying on sparked my memory. '8/24' it read. August 24. Last night had been my twenty-first birthday. I sighed, massaging my aching head. I had promised myself that I wouldn't celebrate like the quintessential twenty-one year old, and yet here I was in a trashy hotel room fighting my first hangover. I glanced at my hand again; back to the key. I was too curious to let my current situation get in the way of figuring out its origin. The first question I had to answer was this, where had I gone last night. I ransacked the room searching for evidence. When I returned to my bed I had with me a business card, two crumpled napkins, a watch, and three scraps of paper with numbers scribbled on them. 555-0840, that was my number. The other two were so unfamiliar that I feared dialing them and deemed them useless to my investigation. The napkins had a strange label on them. The 12 Bar, if I couldn't remember it I would have to depend on google to identify it. "The 12 Bar," I muttered as I scanned the search results. "Music venue, London, Denmark Street..." I stopped, my eyes shifted back and refocused on the words London, England. Surely it was mistaken. There was no way I was in London. I jumped off the bed, ignoring the fact that the room spun around me, and threw open the curtains that covered the grimy window. The rising sun stung my eyes, but as they readjusted I could see Big Ben silhouetted against the horizon. I snatched my coat and shoes and was out the door without another glance at the depressing room. As I thundered and tripped down the uneven stairs I struggled to pull my cell phone out of my back pocket. I called the first person I could think of. "Nelly, I think I'm in trouble..." "Sam! Where are you? You never came back last night, we've been worried sick! You idiot, I can't believe you!" "Came back?" "To our apartment...in London...studying abroad?" I slapped my forehead and then grasped the key around my neck. "I'm never drinking again. I'm so messed up." She gave a short laugh, "you have no idea. Find out where you are, I'll pick you up, and we'll never talk about last night again." "That bad." "You don't want to know." I rubbed the suddenly familiar key between my fingers as I tried my best to shove down the memories of my twenty-first birthday.
"Please! I'm begging you! I don't have it! You know I'd give it to you if I did! Please! Don't hurt me!"
"Oh sweetie," she said with a lull in her voice. "I know you don't have it. I do know that you know where it is, and that why I have to torture you, until you tell me. I won't hurt you if just tell me. It's that simple."
I remained silent. I promise that I wouldn't tell her. I'll die for my promise, for that's my punishment for being caught. She's right. I knew the where the disk was. It was in my hand. Too bad it's going to die with me.
It was the morning after my wedding day, the honeymoon at the beach was great. The waves crashed onto shore, as Dan and I sat in our chairs gazing up at the bright yellow sun. Sea shells beginning to wash up to shore as little kids skipped across the warm sand picking each one up and talking into them. Something this morning was rather odd, though. I didn't remember much of last night. All I remember was it was my wedding night, along with my twenty-first birthday. I knew I was a little too young to be getting wed to a man of such an older age, but Dan was only 31. My parents loved him, he was so good to me. Today is the day we venture back into town. Dan and I lie awake next to each other in the bed. We just stare at each other, looking into our eyes, pondering last night. He reached for my hand, I gave him mine. As I reached to lock fingers with him and I see something rather peculiar on my hand. I thought maybe it was just a mark, or a dirt spot so I let it go. I look at Dans hand after I inspected mine, he had the same looking mark. I let it go again. As we lye there the thought of what was on our hands ate away at my brain until I said something. I run to the bathroom. I looked at my hand. It was a tattoo. I must have been so drunk that I got a tattoo. I never would have thought I would have been intoxicated to the point I wouldn't remember getting a tattoo. I push open the door, and run to the bed where Dan is lying. I grabbed his hand and turned it over. She had the same engrossment on his palm that I did. It was a gold key, with bright colored gold and a black outline. I asked him why we had them. He began by say something about how I told him I wanted a key to his heart. He told me it was the key to his heart that was tattooed onto my palm. I promised myself that day I'll never drink the way I did last night, especially with the man I love.
She was a mess. Her eyes were blurred through her tear smeared makeup. She had his old key gripped in her hands. The only thing he left behind. His bedside was made, His closet was empty, He was gone. All of him. Gone.
How did I get here? To this strange smelly hotel room, the room is in such a disarray and the windows and doors are open? Wait... these are not my clothes, that I remember last night at the party. What's this silver key for that's duck taped to my left hand? Who is the people sleeping on both sides of me and why do I have a tattoo of something that looks like a cross between a bird and a alligator on my cheek? What did I do last night? Oh gosh my head feels like somebody threw a brick at it. Oh my, what happened to my hair... did I get a hair cut... It's more like I got the back shaved. As the fear arose in me, the tears of confusion started to form in my brown eyes. I quickly grabbed a red fuzzy robe off the floor and underneath it was a safe. I quickly undock taped the key off my hand and used it to unlock the safe. It opened with slow and steady crack as a feet came piling out and I a ran out of the hotel.
My eyelids fluttered open to the twinkling sound of my princess alarm clock. I lifted my head from my my Barbie pillow and glanced around my fluffy, pink room. Then I remembered it. I shook off my thick comforter and quickly pulled out my clenched fist. My lips broke into a smile as I slowly uncurled my fingers. It was still just as enchanting as it had been last night when Papa gave it to me! A beautiful key, shining silver with little crystal stones. I ran my finger down the jagged edge and held it up to the sunlight that shone through the window so the pretty stones glittered. My feet popped out from beneath my blankets and I separated the pink canopy that surrounded my bed. I hopped down into my fluffy fairy slippers and rushed across my room to the desk where Papa's box sat. I looked all around the room to make sure there were no spies or anything, because what I had in my box was a secret. Then, very very carefully, I put my key inside the box to unlock my treasure. I reached down and held it between my fingers, pulling it out to examine it. I placed in the palm of my hand the silver dollar that Papa gave me and smiled, because nobody else had this treasure. It was all mine.
Sunlight streamed through the window, falling upon my pale face which was framed by a tangled mass of raven black hair. I squeezed my eyelids tighter before opening them slowly, allowing the room to steadily come into focus. I laid there for a moment, starring at the white stucco ceiling. The nothingness of morning eventually gave way to the encroaching thoughts of consciousness. Memories, sensations, and emotions all flooded my mind as though someone had just demolished a dam within my head. Memories, sensations, emotions, and
Acknowledgments.
It was my birthday. My eighteenth birthday actually, and in the palm of my outstretched hand lay a small golden key. I sat up, the bed creaking beneath me, and examined the trinket, sliding my finger down its jagged teeth.
How many times had I spent late nights examining the key, committing to memory its every curve and contour? How many times had I re-read that letter? The one my parents had permitted me to read on my thirteenth birthday.
See, I wasn't just adopted, I was left on the door step.
Yes, how very "Harry Potter" of me, I know.
But that's how it happened. Me, a key and a letter taped to the lid of a wooden box left on the stoop of the Ferginsons, The letter was from my parents and all it told me was that I wasn't to open the box until I was eighteen. Until, legally, I was to be considered an adult. Until I was free to make my own choices.
This day had been my driving force in life since I was permitted to read that letter. That box was one great mystery, one potential opportunity for devastation, and the only chance I saw for something better to become of my life.
I raised my head to stare into the mirror which was mounted on my makeup stained vanity across the room. My dark eyes were wide and my cheeks flushed.
I couldn't settle my thundering heart.
I clutched the key tightly, feeling the the cool metal prongs dig into my skin. A lifetime of mystery was finally coming to consummation. My eyes came to rest upon the box atop the vanity. I took a deep breath and gave the key one final squeeze, then rose from my creaking bed and strode towards the box, towards my future and whatever tragically glorious mysteries lay ahead.
A key such a minor tool What is this key to? Why do I have it? What is this key to? A house … A lock … A file … A chest … A cabinet ... A gate … A car … I pondered this for What felt like decades But.. I can't help but feel That it belongs To my heart For me to give away A single key To a single lover
I wake up from a deep sleep and to my surprise I have a key in my hand. How the key managed to stay in my hand without falling out of it the whole time I was asleep I don't know. It is a very heavy key for its size which appears to be average. It appears be the key to something old for it is a skeleton key. I don't own anything old so I don't think there is anyway it can be mine. I look at the key and see that there is a serial number of some sort engraved on the side that read '357'. I also notice that on the other side of the key there is the name 'Howard Johnson'. I decide it is best that it is best to go down to the courthouse to see if there is anyway I can get help finding this mysterious 'Howard Johnson'. I talk to the women at the courthouse about trying to find my mystery man and she tells me, to my surprise, that he owns a large restaurant just outside of town. I decide to go to the restraint and ask him what the key is for. I arrive at the presumed restaurant and it is an old timey pirate dinner theatre. There is a sign that says that the restaurant is now closed because of the death of a Mr. Howard Johnson. I and a bit disgruntled. How did I get this key, what does, it open, and why did I receive it? I go to turn around and head back towards my house when I see a chest, most likely for decoration, out of the corner of my eye. I wonder if it's possible that this is what the key goes to so I walk over to old, brown, oak chest. It is locked which raises my hopes that I have found the match to my key. I insert the key into the slot as I wonder what could be inside. I get excited when the key fits the whole way into the keyhole and I feel as I could possibly be rich or even the owner of a restaurant. I turn they key, my heart thumps fast and hard. I open the chest and it's empty. I am upset but mostly confused. Why would anyone go through all that trouble for an empty chest?
I woke up with his key still in my hand. I spent all night trying to get myself to use it, to open the most precious box ever. It's been months since he left me. I spent every waking hour mourning over the loss of my best friend.. My soul mate. We knew it was going to happen sooner or later, the battle was becoming too much. But nothing could prepare me for the heartache I would feel when it actually happened. All I have left of him is a little wooden box. I can't open it and face the fact that that's all I have. A box. It's just a box... a box containing our most precious memories. A box that means the world to me.
I woke up and this key was in my right hand. How is there a key in my hand? Did someone sneak into my apartment while I was sleeping and put it in my hand? I got up and my bedroom door was locked. And I couldn't get out. I turn around to look on the bed where I set the key and it was gone. Looks like I'm trapped in my room forever.
I studied my hand; a large gold key had left a deep imprint in my skin. I had woken up grasping the key firmly without any recollection of how it ended up on a chain around my neck. My mind felt hazy as I tried desperately to remember what I had been doing last night. The cheap alarm clock beside the bed I was lying on sparked my memory. '8/24' it read. August 24. Last night had been my twenty-first birthday. I sighed, massaging my aching head. I had promised myself that I wouldn't celebrate like the quintessential twenty-one year old, and yet here I was in a trashy hotel room fighting my first hangover.
ReplyDeleteI glanced at my hand again; back to the key. I was too curious to let my current situation get in the way of figuring out its origin. The first question I had to answer was this, where had I gone last night. I ransacked the room searching for evidence. When I returned to my bed I had with me a business card, two crumpled napkins, a watch, and three scraps of paper with numbers scribbled on them. 555-0840, that was my number. The other two were so unfamiliar that I feared dialing them and deemed them useless to my investigation. The napkins had a strange label on them. The 12 Bar, if I couldn't remember it I would have to depend on google to identify it.
"The 12 Bar," I muttered as I scanned the search results. "Music venue, London, Denmark Street..." I stopped, my eyes shifted back and refocused on the words London, England. Surely it was mistaken. There was no way I was in London. I jumped off the bed, ignoring the fact that the room spun around me, and threw open the curtains that covered the grimy window. The rising sun stung my eyes, but as they readjusted I could see Big Ben silhouetted against the horizon.
I snatched my coat and shoes and was out the door without another glance at the depressing room. As I thundered and tripped down the uneven stairs I struggled to pull my cell phone out of my back pocket. I called the first person I could think of. "Nelly, I think I'm in trouble..."
"Sam! Where are you? You never came back last night, we've been worried sick! You idiot, I can't believe you!"
"Came back?"
"To our apartment...in London...studying abroad?" I slapped my forehead and then grasped the key around my neck.
"I'm never drinking again. I'm so messed up."
She gave a short laugh, "you have no idea. Find out where you are, I'll pick you up, and we'll never talk about last night again."
"That bad."
"You don't want to know." I rubbed the suddenly familiar key between my fingers as I tried my best to shove down the memories of my twenty-first birthday.
Oh no! I love when her key is "suddenly familiar". Fabulous!
Delete"Please! I'm begging you! I don't have it! You know I'd give it to you if I did! Please! Don't hurt me!"
ReplyDelete"Oh sweetie," she said with a lull in her voice. "I know you don't have it. I do know that you know where it is, and that why I have to torture you, until you tell me. I won't hurt you if just tell me. It's that simple."
I remained silent. I promise that I wouldn't tell her. I'll die for my promise, for that's my punishment for being caught. She's right. I knew the where the disk was. It was in my hand. Too bad it's going to die with me.
I love this. Have you ever read the book "Sara's Key"? What a beautiful book that is. I had forgotten all about it until I read this.
DeleteIt was the morning after my wedding day, the honeymoon at the beach was great. The waves crashed onto shore, as Dan and I sat in our chairs gazing up at the bright yellow sun. Sea shells beginning to wash up to shore as little kids skipped across the warm sand picking each one up and talking into them. Something this morning was rather odd, though. I didn't remember much of last night. All I remember was it was my wedding night, along with my twenty-first birthday. I knew I was a little too young to be getting wed to a man of such an older age, but Dan was only 31. My parents loved him, he was so good to me. Today is the day we venture back into town. Dan and I lie awake next to each other in the bed. We just stare at each other, looking into our eyes, pondering last night. He reached for my hand, I gave him mine. As I reached to lock fingers with him and I see something rather peculiar on my hand. I thought maybe it was just a mark, or a dirt spot so I let it go. I look at Dans hand after I inspected mine, he had the same looking mark. I let it go again. As we lye there the thought of what was on our hands ate away at my brain until I said something. I run to the bathroom. I looked at my hand. It was a tattoo. I must have been so drunk that I got a tattoo. I never would have thought I would have been intoxicated to the point I wouldn't remember getting a tattoo. I push open the door, and run to the bed where Dan is lying. I grabbed his hand and turned it over. She had the same engrossment on his palm that I did. It was a gold key, with bright colored gold and a black outline. I asked him why we had them. He began by say something about how I told him I wanted a key to his heart. He told me it was the key to his heart that was tattooed onto my palm. I promised myself that day I'll never drink the way I did last night, especially with the man I love.
ReplyDeleteI was waiting for Dan to turn villain. He should have been looking out for her.
DeleteShe was a mess.
ReplyDeleteHer eyes were blurred through her tear smeared makeup.
She had his old key gripped in her hands.
The only thing he left behind.
His bedside was made,
His closet was empty,
He was gone.
All of him.
Gone.
This is beautifully sad!
DeleteHow did I get here? To this strange smelly hotel room, the room is in such a disarray and the windows and doors are open? Wait... these are not my clothes, that I remember last night at the party. What's this silver key for that's duck taped to my left hand? Who is the people sleeping on both sides of me and why do I have a tattoo of something that looks like a cross between a bird and a alligator on my cheek? What did I do last night? Oh gosh my head feels like somebody threw a brick at it. Oh my, what happened to my hair... did I get a hair cut... It's more like I got the back shaved. As the fear arose in me, the tears of confusion started to form in my brown eyes. I quickly grabbed a red fuzzy robe off the floor and underneath it was a safe. I quickly undock taped the key off my hand and used it to unlock the safe. It opened with slow and steady crack as a feet came piling out and I a ran out of the hotel.
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh. Everyone drank to much and forgot what they were doing. None of you better do that! Things, as you are telling me, do not work out well!
DeleteMy eyelids fluttered open to the twinkling sound of my princess alarm clock. I lifted my head from my my Barbie pillow and glanced around my fluffy, pink room. Then I remembered it. I shook off my thick comforter and quickly pulled out my clenched fist. My lips broke into a smile as I slowly uncurled my fingers. It was still just as enchanting as it had been last night when Papa gave it to me! A beautiful key, shining silver with little crystal stones. I ran my finger down the jagged edge and held it up to the sunlight that shone through the window so the pretty stones glittered. My feet popped out from beneath my blankets and I separated the pink canopy that surrounded my bed. I hopped down into my fluffy fairy slippers and rushed across my room to the desk where Papa's box sat. I looked all around the room to make sure there were no spies or anything, because what I had in my box was a secret. Then, very very carefully, I put my key inside the box to unlock my treasure. I reached down and held it between my fingers, pulling it out to examine it. I placed in the palm of my hand the silver dollar that Papa gave me and smiled, because nobody else had this treasure. It was all mine.
ReplyDeleteThis is precious. I love the description of the bed! Love it.
DeleteIs it the key to happiness?
ReplyDeleteOr the key to life?
Is it the key to sappiness?
Or the key to strife?
Is it the key to one's heart?
Or the key to another's?
Will this key tear me apart?
Or bring me closer to others?
Each of us are born in hand with a key.
God placed it there in total secrecy.
Within our grasp it will unfold.
It contains every story ever untold.
Some locks we shall break.
Some doors never discovered.
This key is for us to take.
And leave no opportunity uncovered.
Look at the key in your hand.
What doors will you dare to knock?
Run now, and see what God has planned.
And never be afraid to unlock.
Yippee! Another happy poem. This is really nice. Very creative approach.
DeleteSunlight streamed through the window, falling upon my pale face which was framed by a tangled mass of raven black hair. I squeezed my eyelids tighter before opening them slowly, allowing the room to steadily come into focus. I laid there for a moment, starring at the white stucco ceiling. The nothingness of morning eventually gave way to the encroaching thoughts of consciousness. Memories, sensations, and emotions all flooded my mind as though someone had just demolished a dam within my head. Memories, sensations, emotions, and
ReplyDeleteAcknowledgments.
It was my birthday. My eighteenth birthday actually, and in the palm of my outstretched hand lay a small golden key. I sat up, the bed creaking beneath me, and examined the trinket, sliding my finger down its jagged teeth.
How many times had I spent late nights examining the key, committing to memory its every curve and contour? How many times had I re-read that letter? The one my parents had permitted me to read on my thirteenth birthday.
See, I wasn't just adopted, I was left on the door step.
Yes, how very "Harry Potter" of me, I know.
But that's how it happened. Me, a key and a letter taped to the lid of a wooden box left on the stoop of the Ferginsons, The letter was from my parents and all it told me was that I wasn't to open the box until I was eighteen. Until, legally, I was to be considered an adult. Until I was free to make my own choices.
This day had been my driving force in life since I was permitted to read that letter. That box was one great mystery, one potential opportunity for devastation, and the only chance I saw for something better to become of my life.
I raised my head to stare into the mirror which was mounted on my makeup stained vanity across the room. My dark eyes were wide and my cheeks flushed.
I couldn't settle my thundering heart.
I clutched the key tightly, feeling the the cool metal prongs dig into my skin. A lifetime of mystery was finally coming to consummation. My eyes came to rest upon the box atop the vanity. I took a deep breath and gave the key one final squeeze, then rose from my creaking bed and strode towards the box, towards my future and whatever tragically glorious mysteries lay ahead.
Another incredibly creative approach to this prompt. I hope she finds something good. Poor little thing.
DeleteA key such a minor tool
ReplyDeleteWhat is this key to?
Why do I have it?
What is this key to?
A house
…
A lock
…
A file
…
A chest
…
A cabinet
...
A gate
…
A car
…
I pondered this for
What felt like decades
But..
I can't help but feel
That it belongs
To my heart
For me to give away
A single key
To a single lover
Oh, this reminds me of the children's book "The Princess and the Kiss". Have any of you ever read that? Great job.
DeleteI wake up from a deep sleep and to my surprise I have a key in my hand. How the key managed to stay in my hand without falling out of it the whole time I was asleep I don't know. It is a very heavy key for its size which appears to be average. It appears be the key to something old for it is a skeleton key. I don't own anything old so I don't think there is anyway it can be mine. I look at the key and see that there is a serial number of some sort engraved on the side that read '357'. I also notice that on the other side of the key there is the name 'Howard Johnson'. I decide it is best that it is best to go down to the courthouse to see if there is anyway I can get help finding this mysterious 'Howard Johnson'. I talk to the women at the courthouse about trying to find my mystery man and she tells me, to my surprise, that he owns a large restaurant just outside of town. I decide to go to the restraint and ask him what the key is for. I arrive at the presumed restaurant and it is an old timey pirate dinner theatre. There is a sign that says that the restaurant is now closed because of the death of a Mr. Howard Johnson. I and a bit disgruntled. How did I get this key, what does, it open, and why did I receive it? I go to turn around and head back towards my house when I see a chest, most likely for decoration, out of the corner of my eye. I wonder if it's possible that this is what the key goes to so I walk over to old, brown, oak chest. It is locked which raises my hopes that I have found the match to my key. I insert the key into the slot as I wonder what could be inside. I get excited when the key fits the whole way into the keyhole and I feel as I could possibly be rich or even the owner of a restaurant. I turn they key, my heart thumps fast and hard. I open the chest and it's empty. I am upset but mostly confused. Why would anyone go through all that trouble for an empty chest?
ReplyDeleteI woke up with his key still in my hand. I spent all night trying to get myself to use it, to open the most precious box ever. It's been months since he left me. I spent every waking hour mourning over the loss of my best friend.. My soul mate. We knew it was going to happen sooner or later, the battle was becoming too much. But nothing could prepare me for the heartache I would feel when it actually happened. All I have left of him is a little wooden box. I can't open it and face the fact that that's all I have. A box. It's just a box... a box containing our most precious memories. A box that means the world to me.
ReplyDeleteGood girl! And this is beautiful!
ReplyDeleteI woke up and this key was in my right hand. How is there a key in my hand? Did someone sneak into my apartment while I was sleeping and put it in my hand? I got up and my bedroom door was locked. And I couldn't get out. I turn around to look on the bed where I set the key and it was gone. Looks like I'm trapped in my room forever.
ReplyDelete