You hear a knock on your front door. You head down the stairs, through the dining and living rooms, stopping within arm's reach of the door. You raise your hand to grasp the knob, but hesitate.
[[Look through the peephole ]]
[[Open the door ]]You lean in and close one eye, peering through the peephole with the other. You see no one outside.
[[Open the door ]] You turn the knob of the door and then pull it open.
No one stands outside. You lean out and look to the right and left, but you see no one walking who seems they might have just come from your front porch.
Something dark catches the edges of your periphery as you're just about to go back inside and shut the door. It is a small box, sitting directly in front of the door. If you had gone outside at all, you would have stepped directly on it.
[[Pick up the box.]]The box is small, fitting in the palm of your hand. It is made of wood, light in weight, but dark in color. There is a small, brass latch on one side, and two even smaller hinges on the opposing side. There are no designs carved or painted into it save one: a perfect circle on what seems to be the lid.
[[Open the box.]]
[[Set the box down where you found it and close the door->You don't want it.]]The tiny hinges creak quietly as you unlatch the box and push back the lid.
Inside, you find a darkly silvered key lying atop a folded piece of paper.
[[Pick up the key.]]
[[Open the note.]]You set the strange box down back exactly where you found it, and then close the door. What an odd thing to simply appear on your step, but you want nothing to do with it. What if there was something horrible (but tiny) inside? You don't know who left it there—it could be anything, and you're not willing to risk it.
When you turn to go back upstairs, you stop short in your tracks.
The box is sitting in the middle of your path, not two strides away from you.
[[You suppose you have no choice now. You pick it up once more.->Open the box.]] The key is cool and smooth to the touch. It has a surprising weight to it, especially since the box itself was so light in your hand. The longer you hold it, however, the less it seems like a normal, metal sort of weight and the more it seems like a weight the key has carried for a long time. You can feel years press down on the palm of your hand through this key.
[[Place it back in the box.]]
[[Slip the key into your pocket.]]You gently place the key back into the box. The weight of it still rests heavy in your hand, as if it has pressed down into your skin.
[[Open the note.]] The key sinks to the bottom of your pocket like an anchor dropped into the sea. You feel its weight against your leg. You also somehow feel its cold through layers of cloth.
All that remains in the box now is the folded note.
[[Open the note.]] You walk back through the dining room and kitchen, and hear Mandy humming a tune outside. You open the back door to find them sitting in a chair in the gazeebo, contentedly practicing with their watercolor pencils.
You lean against the rail and tell them about the knock, the wooden box, and the key and the note within it. Do they remember a keyhole in your office door?
They ponder this for a moment, back end of a pencil resting against the corner of their mouth. They're not sure, but just because they don't remember doesn't mean there isn't one. They think you should go check.
What if the key fits? you ask.
They shrug. What's the worst that could happen? Now you can lock your office door if you want.
Go upstairs and see if your office [[has a keyhole.]]You ascend the stairs to the second floor, the wood of them creaking in welcome beneath your feet. You slow when you reach the last few steps, your gaze trained on the knob of your office door, searching.
There is a keyhole.
Was there always one there? Or is this something new that somehow appeared because you have a key for it now? You can't quite remember.
The cold of the key seeps through your pocket, almost as if asking to be used. This is its purpose, after all.
[[Use the key.]]
[[This is ridiculous. You're not going to put a key someone you don't know left in a weird little box on your doorstep in this keyhole in your office door that may or may not have been there before just because it feels like it //wants// to be used. ->Put the key back in the box.]] The key.
The key sits at the bottom of your pocket like an anchor dropped into the sea. You feel its weight against your leg. You also somehow feel its cold through layers of cloth. You do not know how it got there when you clearly recall it being in the box only moments ago.
You look back inside the box again.
All that remains in the box now is the folded note.
Go upstairs and see if your office [[has a keyhole.]]
Go and find Mandy and [[ask them what they think of all this.]]The note is old, yellowed gently, and only folded in half once, so it opens easily and quickly.
Neat and narrow handwriting stares up at you, the more vertical letters ending their lengths in the slightest of flourishes. It reads, //for your spare room//
Your . . . spare room? Did it mean your office? Does your office even have a keyhole? You try to wrack your memory, but suddenly cannot recall. If it did, how would someone else have a key to it?
You refold the note and, out of curiosity—or perhaps compulsion—look inside the box again. You find it empty.
Wait.
The key. Where is [[the key?]] You pull the key from your pocket with one hand, and grasp the knob to your office with the other, though whether to hold the door or yourself steady, you're not entirely certain. After a moment's hesitation, you slip in the key.
It fits.
You hold your breath and turn the key.
It doesn't budge.
That doesn't make sense. The note said this key was for your "spare room," and then the key fit into the keyhole that you coudn't really be sure even existed before. How could it //not// turn?
Frustrated and a little perplexed, you withdraw the key and release the doorknob, though your gaze lingers on the latter. If the key didn't work on this door, then what other room could it be for?
Try [[the bedroom door.]]
[[Go back downstairs and try a door down there.]]You put the silver key firmly back in the box and close the lid.
[[There is a weight in your pocket. ->What is it?]]It is the key.
What? How is it [[the key?]] You go over to the door to the bedroom and find that it, too, has a keyhole (which you also cannot quite recall if it existed before this moment). The key doesn't even fit into this one, however.
[[Go back downstairs and try a door down there.]] You turn to descend the stairs again and try a door down there—maybe the basement door? The bathroom door? The back door? You're not sure, but at least you still have options to try—when, for the second time today, something catches your eye.
On the wall at the top of the stairs, perpendicular to your office doorway, is a knob and a keyhole.
You know for certain that those things did not exist in that place before this moment.
[[Try the key.]]
Forget all this crazy nonsense, [[throw the key out the window]], and go back downstairs to play a game or something. Maybe sit outside with Mandy and enjoy the spring air.Your hand trembles just a little as you reach forward and slip the key into the wall. Well, the keyhole in the wall, anyway.
It slides easily into the keyhole.
You hold your breath again. Turn the key. All you have to do is turn the key. It's so easy. Just one, simple motion.
[[Turn the key.]]You have the key in your hand, ready to chuck it as far as possible out the nearest window, hopefully to be lost in some neighbor's grasses for the rest of time and you never have to see it again.
But . . . you find you can't.
Part of you absolutely wants to be rid of this thing, yet another part of you recoils at the idea of losing it forever.
You close your fingers around the cool metal again.
[[Go back downstairs and try a door down there.]] With a soft click, the key turns.
[[Turn the knob and push.]]
[[Stare at it. You can't believe that actually worked.]]The knob gives way to your directing hand. The dark outline of a door manifests as you push, and it opens inward.
Logically, you know this wall is shared with your neighbors, so you should be walking right onto the top of their stairs.
It's dark inside.
You can see nothing.
[[Step inside.]]Believe it or not, it did. You just put a key you found in a box someone you could find no trace of left at your door into a keyhole in your wall that wasn't there before and it turned.
[[Turn the knob and push.]] You step inside and pull out your phone to use the flashlight function. The cold, bright light illuminates what looks like a corridor that stretches out before you. You cannot see the end of it.
[[Walk forward.]]
[[Actually, nevermind. On second thought, this isn't what I wanted. ->Go back.]]You start down the corridor, the floor wooden and creaking quietly beneath each step. The walls on either side of the corridor are much like the walls in your house. You find yourself wondering if this was just some hidden passageway that was always there, somehow. That doesn't seem possible, considering it never seemed like there was anywhere for this to have the room to exist, but . . . this is an old house. Old houses have all kinds of hidden nooks and crannies. Even corridors.
Right?
[[Continue walking.]]
You turn to head back out into your house proper, but the door shuts before you can move back through it.
You are in the corridor now, with no way back, only forward.
[[Walk forward.]] You continue walking, your phone flashlight's beam shifting gently from side to side as you go. The corrider is quiet. It's not an oppressive kind of quiet, the kind that you can feel pressing in on all sides of you, but a comfortable quiet. The quiet of being a place that is all right with your presence. If not welcoming, it is at least pleasantly curious.
You feel the same sort of curiosity drifting within you as you continue down the corridor. You're not quite sure how long you've been walking, but you haven't stopped yet. You haven't seen any other doors, either. By this point, you're certain you should have come to your neighbors' house. In fact, you're fairly sure that you've probably walked further than the width of your neighbors' house and should have come out the other side.
[[Yet, you continue walking.]]Nothing about this corridor has changed. You are starting to wonder if you're on some kind of treadmill that keeps repeating the same dark scenery on an endless loop, because there is no way you haven't reached //something// yet.
Nearly as soon as you finish having that thought, your phone flashlight flickers.
You quickly glance down to check the battery. The phone's charge is fine—nowhere near dying.
The light flickers again and then goes out.
You are plunged into darkness.
You nearly stumble to a stop, and for a moment just stand there. Should you try to go back? You've just been walking in a straight line the whole time, surely it would be simple to just turn around and head back to your house (however far away it is).
But . . .
You've come this far.
[[Why not keep going just a little further?]]You reach out a hand to touch the wall and feel it, warm, beneath your fingertips. As you continue forward, you trail your fingers against the wall to keep yourself oriented and headed forward, continuing as you have been.
A few minutes pass of walking in pitch black, but then you think you see something ahead of you.
You squint and—yes, it //is// something. A pinprick of light.
The going is somehow easier now that you have some kind of goal ahead of you. Something stirs in your chest. Anticipation, maybe? At the very least, curiosity to know what lies at the end of this, finally.
The pinprick of light grows as you walk, but not by much. You slip your phone into your pocket and reach out that hand before you. You can see how this could go and don't want to walk straight into a wall you can't see.
After a few more steps, your outstretched hand presses against a wooden surface.
Another door. The light is coming from a peephole.
[[Look through.]]You look through the peephole of this door in the dark and see greenery on the other side. Bushes rise up in a stately fashion, shaped by skilled hands. They beckon you even from the other side of the door.
Not needing to see to know where the doorknob is, your hand moves almost of its own, excited volition, finds a handle, and then turns it and pushes the door open.
Bright light floods your vision for a moment as you step out of the corridor. Gravel crunches beneath your feet, the songs of birds fills the air, and a sweet breeze tugs at your hair and clothes.
When your vision adjusts to the much brighter light, you see a pair of stone statues and an open iron gate bracketing a dirt and gravel path leading up a slight incline between two rows of hedges. When you look behind you, you see the wooden door shutting. It is completely surrounded by ivy; you cannot even see an exterior wall to figure out if it is still part of your house or not.
You turn back to the opening in the hedge.
<a href="https://uquiz.com/quiz/7MbIap/try-to-find-your-way-out-of-my-wizard-maze">Walk through the opening.</a>