Side Door

You pick up the pen and pull off the cap. Will it even write? You suppose it's at least worth a try, and if it doesn't work, well, at least you could say you made an attempt. You'd feel better. Ink flows smoothly from the pen, down the nib, and onto the page. It's so responsive to the paper that it startles you and you nearly blot the ink. As it is, there's a little dot of black where you pressed the tip of the nib. Thankfully, it's salvageable, and you use it as the start to the first letter of your name. The rest of your name comes quickly from the tip of the pen; you get the sensation your fingers are being tugged along by each letter, rather than being the writer creating them. You end with a final little flourish to elongate the last line of your name, and then sit back to admire your handiwork. The ink dries quickly, absorbing into the paper in a matter of moments. It doesn't appear out of place with the rest of the names. If you tilt your head and squint a little, you could even say it looks like it was written by the same person who wrote the rest of the names. Or, you decide, at least close enough. That must have been an unconscious decision on your part, but making it look like the rest of the names—at least, to your best approximation—feels right. You can close the book without guilt. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:30s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Cap the pen and close the book.]] ]

You push the cap back onto the pen with a soft click, replace it to its original spot on the table, and then gently close the book. Now that your curiosity is satisfied, you just need to leave the room. As you stand from the chair and turn back toward the door you entered, you find it is no longer there. Perhaps you misremembered what direction it was in? (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Turn to the right wall.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:8s) + (transition-time: 4s)[ [[Turn to the wall behind you.]] ]

That's it? You're going to close the book without adding your name to it? If no one will see it, then who cares if you do? It's just an old list of names. What's the harm in adding your name to it? It just doesn't feel right to close the book and walk away without adding your name. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Add your name to the guestbook.]] ]

Your hand trembles over the open book for a moment, your fingers almost itching for the feel of the next page. You stand, taking a few steps away. Apprehension and sense win the war within you—for the moment. You approach the table again. You close the book. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:4s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Sit back in the chair.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:5s) + (transition-time: 4s)[ [[Look at the pen.]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:13s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Yet, you continue walking.]] ]

Without wasting another moment to see what might be coming to that door, you step to the left and push through the opening. The wood of the wall is rough beneath your hands, and you can hear the bottom of the door scrape against what sounds like gravel. As you step through, you are engulf and then blinded by a much brighter light than you've been used to this however long you've been in those corridors. Very quickly, you realize that there is gravel beneath your feet, and as your eyes and ears acclimate to the light, you hear . . . birdsong. And leaves rustling in a breeze, which you feel against your face and clothes. You blink

You turn the handle on this new door and push it open. On the other side, you find yourself in another corridor. Unlike the last one, the walls of this corridor are wooden and it is dimly lit, much like the room you were just in. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:4s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Walk down the corridor.]] ]

The words are there in plain black ink. //(transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 2s)[ knock ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 4s)[ knock.]// (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:6s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Knock twice.]] ]

As you continue through the book, the ink becomes incrementally, but still progressively, less faded. You can tell whatever is written are definitely names, even if you still cannot tell apart individual letters enough to guess at what names they might be. The script for each name also seems alike, though as a whole, it shifts and changes the further through the book you go. It seems to be evolving, or maturing. It's almost as if a singular person was recording these names, rather than whomever all these guests were. The book is clearly quite old, though there are no dates anywhere to be found—not near the front, and not coupled with any of the name entries further in. You wonder if this could be for some event that took place on one day, and that is why no one concerned themselves with a date. But that wouldn't explain the faded entries at the beginning. More curious than ever, you flip forward through the book until you reach a page that has blank lines. The writing here is dark, almost fresh-looking. The ink doesn't appear to be wet, but it is certainly much younger than the rest of the book that you have seen. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:30s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Look more closely at the names.]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:12s) + (transition-time: 5s)[ [[Try the key.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:10s) + (transition-time: 3s)[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 your partner and enjoy the spring air.]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Walk forward.]] ]

You stare at the doorknob and keyhole that are now on your wall. You are certain they were not there before you came upstairs with this key. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:5s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Try the key.]] ]

You don't know how the key is in your pocket //again.// (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ Maybe you could try it. ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Use the key.]] ]

You take the box out of your pocket again and look at it. It fits in your palm, and weighs little, despite you knowing the heaviness of the key inside. You look around for someplace to put it, but there are no shelves, no slots, no little nooks to slip a small box into. There is only the walls, the door, the ceiling, and the floor. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:6s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Put the box on the floor in front of the door.]] ]

You rap on the door again, the sound from your knuckles unmistakable and refusing to be ignored. A moment passes. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:4s) + (transition-time: 3s)[You hear a creak to your left. You whip your body to look, and you see the wall has pushed open a crack—it's another doorway.] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 3s)[Even as your mind is in the midst of registering that yet another door has opened to you, you hear the sounds of someone walking up to the door //you// just knocked on.] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:10s) + (transition-time: 6s)[ [[Exit left through the door that has appeared in the wall.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:13s) + (transition-time: 6s)[ [[Wait to see who comes to the door.]] ]

You knock on the door. Three definitive raps. You wait. And wait. Nothing happens. You look at the note again, feeling like an idiot for actually doing what it said. (link: "Wait, what else did it say?")[(goto: "Read the note.")Wait, what else did it say?]

You don't know how long you've been in these corridors, but you're ready to get out. You have no idea how this will unlock the door, but you're sure as hell going to try. You raise your hand in a fist, ready. Your breath hitches a little. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 6s)[ //[[knock knock]]// ]

You pull the key out of the keyhole and put it back in the box. You stare at the note. Did it really want you to . . . knock? On this door? Well, okay. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Knock on the door.]] ]

All you see are the words, //knock knock// (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Turn the handle of the door.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 2s) + (if: (history:) contains "Put the key in the black keyhole.")[ [[Knock.]] ]

The pen is antiquated, almost like it needs a bottle of ink, but there is no lever mechanism on the side that you can find which would draw up ink into its interior. It is a dark blue color, with no design or adornments on it. Just a smooth exterior with a cap that encases the front half of the pen. You pull off the cap and a silvery nib greets you—this is no ballpoint that has become the standard, but it is not so old that you cannot write with it. It exists somewhere after the era of ink wells but before the advent of rollerball tips. Somewhere between, just like this room. You replace the cap and set the pen back down where you found it on the table, next to the book. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:13s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Open the book.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:13s) + (transition-time: 4s)[ [[Sit back in the chair.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:15s) + (transition-time: 6s) + (if: (history:) contains "Close the book.")[The book stares at you, silent. Questioning. Open it. [[Turn the page.]]]

The chair creaks beneath you as you lean forward, fingertips on the pages of the book to either side of the entries where you have trained your attention. Your eyes flick back and forth as you read. The names are clear now, but none seem familiar to you. You read all the ones on this page—which is about halfway filled out—to see if there is any kind of pattern in them. Perhaps a particular nationality, or common letter they all start with, or one particular gender over another. They seem genuinely random. You sit back in the chair, still looking at the book, but with more confusion now than curiosity. Perhaps this is just some old storeroom you somehow missed when you and your partner bought the house, and this is just someone's old guestbook for a wedding, or a funeral, or something where people would record their names. There is no other explanation for this room or this book that you can think of. Well, you think, you're technically only "visiting" this room. Maybe you should add your name to the book, just because. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:23s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Add your name to the guestbook.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:21s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ Really? You're not doing that. What would be the point? It's not like anyone would ever see this book anyway. [[Close the book again.]] ]

You lean in and close one eye, peering through the peephole with the other. You see no one outside. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 3s) [ [[Open the door ]] ]

You look through the keyhole, but can't see much; your field of vision is limited by the confines of brass edges. What you can see doesn't make much sense to you—it looks like a dimly lit room. You think you see the legs of a chair or table. Not needing to see to know where the doorknob is, you move your hand to find the handle, and then turn it and push the door open. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Step through the doorway.]] ]

The cover of the book is dark grey and plain, with black corners and a black spine. You cannot tell what material it is made of, but it is smooth and cool to the touch. There is no writing on the front, the back, or along the spine to give any indication what its contents might be. You open the cover and find a blank flyleaf. It is thicker than the rest of the pages, but is the same aged-bone color as they are. You turn the page and still find no title, no author. On the next page, however, you find a horizontal line printed across the center of the page, underlining two words: //Guest Book// The words are printed, rather than written by hand. Who is coming to this room to be a guest? you wonder. How could anyone //find// this room? Part of you desperately wants to keep turning pages to see what names you might find recorded in this book. Another part of you wants to close it forever and not think about how anyone might get into this room, sit in this chair, pick up that pen, and write down their name. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:20s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Close the book.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:21s) + (transition-time: 10s) + (if: (history:) contains "Close the book.")[The book stares at you, silent. Questioning. Open it. [[Turn the page.]]]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Pick up the key.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Open the note.]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Pick up the box.]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:6s) + (transition-time: 3s) [Wait.] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ The key.] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:9s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ Where is [[the key?]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 3s) [ [[Open the box.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:4s) + (transition-time: 3s) [ [[Set the box down where you found it and close the door->You don't want it.]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:5s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Place it back in the box.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:6s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Slip the key into your pocket.]] ]

The pen is antiquated, almost like it needs a bottle of ink, but there is no lever mechanism on the side that you can find which would draw up ink into its interior. It is a dark blue color, with no design or adornments on it. Just a smooth exterior with a cap that encases the front half of the pen. You pull off the cap and a silvery nib greets you—this is no ballpoint that has become the standard, but it is not so old that you cannot write with it. It exists somewhere after the era of ink wells but before the advent of rollerball tips. Somewhere between, just like this room. You replace the cap and set the pen back down where you found it on the table, next to the book. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:13s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Sit down in the chair.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:14s) + (transition-time: 4s)[ [[Open the book.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:15s) + (transition-time: 6s) + (if: (history:) contains "Close the book.")[The book stares at you, silent. Questioning. Open it. [[Turn the page.]]]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Open the note.]] ]

You bend down and set the box carefully on the floor a few inches from the mahogany wood. You stand up, regarding the door. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Try the handle again.]] ]

You put the silver key firmly back in the box and close the lid. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 6s)[ [[There is a weight in your pocket. ->What is it?]] ]

The key fits in as easily as it did your office door, and the door on the wall at the top of the stairs. It turns. You hear a click. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Turn the handle of the door.]] ]

You take time to study each word of the note on the side facing you. //(transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 2s)[You] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 4s) [cannot] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:4s) + (transition-time: 4s)[take] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:5s) + (transition-time: 4s)[it] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:6s) + (transition-time: 4s)[with] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 4s)[you]// (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:9s) + (transition-time: 3s) + (if: (history:) contains "Put the key in the black keyhole.")[ [[Is it talking about the box in your pocket?]] ]

You lean closer to read the note. In the same hand as the folded note in the box, the note reads, //You cannot take it with you// and there is an arrow drawn near the right side of the paper, pointing to the edge. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:4s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Lift the note to look at the back of it.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:5s) + (transition-time: 2s) + (if: (history:) contains "Lift the note to look at the back of it.") [ Wait. ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 3s) + (if: (history:) contains "Lift the note to look at the back of it.") [ The note in the box.] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:9s) + (transition-time:5s) + (if: (history:) contains "Lift the note to look at the back of it.") [ [[You'd forgotten about the box.]] ]

=><= (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 4s)[Feral Vintage presents] =><= <span>(transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 4s)[<img width="100%" src="https://www.feralvintage.com/sidedoor/sidedoorlogo.jpg">]</span> =><= <span style="font-size: 80%">(transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:5s) + (transition-time: 3s) [ [[begin->knock knock]] ]</span>

You lean back, the old wood of the chair creaking beneath you. From this vantage, you look at the book on the table before you. There isn't much else to do at this point. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 3s) + (if: (history:) contains "Sit in the chair.")[ [[Open the book.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:4s) + (transition-time: 6s) + (if: (history:) contains "Close the book.")[The book stares at you, silent. Questioning. Open it. [[Turn the page.]]]

The chair is already pulled out from the table a little, as if waiting for someone to come into the room and sit in it. So you sit. It shifts and creaks beneath you, quietly informing you how old it likely is. How long have these things been here? Where is //here?// The chair can give you no answers; all it knows is how to bear someone's weight. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 4s)[ [[Open the book.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:9s) + (transition-time: 6s) + (if: (history:) contains "Close the book.")[The book stares at you, silent. Questioning. Open it. [[Turn the page.]]]

The chair is already pulled out from the table a little, as if waiting for someone to come into the room and sit in it. So you sit. It shifts and creaks beneath you, quietly informing you how old it likely is. How long have these things been here? Where is //here?// The chair can give you no answers; all it knows is how to bear someone's weight. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Look at the pen.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 4s)[ [[Open the book.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:9s) + (transition-time: 3s) + (if: (history:) contains "Close the book.")[The book stares at you, silent. Questioning. Open it. [[Turn the page.]]]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Unfold the note.]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Actually, nevermind. On second thought, this isn't what I wanted. ->Go back.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Walk forward.]] ]

Just as you'd seen through the keyhole, you do find yourself in a room. It is not a large room, perhaps less than ten feet square if you were to guess, and it is made entirely of wood. The floor is wood, the walls are wood, even the ceiling is wood. It feels as though you've stepped into a large box. There is one old light fixture on the wall, the kind that used to house oil lamps, but now seems to have electricity running through it. The hurricane glass curves gently around the light, protecting it needlessly from any stray wind, though the air in the room is quite still. Below the fixture is a single wooden chair at a small table—just large enough to hold the book and pen that rest upon its surface. You step over toward the chair, orienting yourself before the book. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:20s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Sit in the chair.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:21s) + (transition-time: 4s)[ [[Pick up the pen.]] ]

It's opened a mysterious door for you before, so it's worth a try again, right? Right? (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Put the key in the black keyhole.]] ]

The black metal is still warm beneath your hand. You try to turn the handle, but it catches. It is still locked. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 3s) [ There is one more thing you can try.] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:5s) + (transition-time: 5s) [ [[Flip over the note again.]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:9s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Turn the key.]] ]

The black metal, whatever it might be, is warm beneath your hand, as if it has been in the sun for a while. You try to turn the handle, but it catches. It is locked. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Read the note.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 6s) + (if: (history:) contains "Put the key in the black keyhole.") [No, wait . . .] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:5s) + (transition-time: 6s) + (if: (history:) contains "Put the key in the black keyhole.") [ [[Read the note more closely.]] ]

With a soft click, the key turns. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Stare at it. You can't believe that actually worked.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Turn the knob and push.]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:6s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Step inside.]] ]

You cannot stop yourself this time, nor do you want to. Curiosity has welled up too much in you, like a ship taking on water. You sit down in the chair and open the cover of the book once more. You turn over the flyleaf page. The blank page after that. The print, //Guest Book,// greets you again. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[You turn that page.]] ]

You turn to the right wall beside the table and chair and find solid wood. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Turn to the wall behind you.]] ]

You turn away from the desk with the book to the wall directly behind you, despite being fairly certain you hadn't come through a door on that side of the room. You see a door. You might even think you had simply misremembered where the desk was in relation to the door except you notice this door has no keyhole. There is no other way out, however. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:4s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Exit through the door.]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:5s) + (transition-time: 3s) [Go upstairs and see if your office [[has a keyhole.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 3s) [Go and find your partner and [[ask them what they think of all this.]] ]

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? (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:10s) + (transition-time: 3s)[Try [[the bedroom door.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:11s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Go back downstairs and try a door down there.]] ]

Your steps seem louder than they should in this corridor. Each time your heel hits the wooden floor, you wince at the noise. You've been by yourself this entire time, but what if someone is on the other side of those walls, or below you, and could hear you? You have to be over your neighbors' house somewhere, and it would be a little difficult to explain why you are walking through a hidden corridor direcly above their heads. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:5s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[You soften your steps and walk a little more slowly.]] ]

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? (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Continue walking.]] ]

It is the key. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ What?] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[How is it the key?]] ]

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, and as you near it becomes clear it's not at eye level. You slip your phone into your pocket and reach out that hand before you. You know 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 another keyhole. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:20s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Look through.]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:15s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Why not keep going just a little further?]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[You suppose you have no choice now. You pick it up once more.->Open the box.]] ]

Eventually, you see a door at the end of this corridor. This is unlike any of the other doors you have seen so far today; it is dark mahogany with a black handle and black keyhole. There is a note pinned to the door where normally you would find a peephole. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:4s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Turn the handle of the door.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:5s) + (transition-time: 4s)[ [[Read the note.]] ]

The next page is comprised of bold, dark lines stretching across the length of the paper, also clearly printed. On each line are handwritten words—names, you guess—but as you peer closer, trying to make out what they say, you realize the ink is too faded to decipher what the names might be. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:1s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Flip through more pages.]] ]

As if thinking about it summoned it back into existence, you feel the pressure and weight of the box in your pocket. You have no memory of ever putting it into that pocket. You pull it out and open it again. Inside are still the folded note and the dark silver key. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Take out the key.]] ]

You walk back through the dining room and kitchen, and hear your partner humming a tune outside. You open the back door to find them in the garden you've built together, weeding. 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 wipe their forehead with their arm, leaving a streak of dirt across their face, and ponder your question. They're not sure about the keyhole, 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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:10s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ 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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:12s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Use the key.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:10s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[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.]] ]

(transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:2s) + (transition-time: 6s) [You hear a knock on your front door. ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:4s) + (transition-time: 7s) [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.] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 2s) [ [[Look through the peephole ]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:8s) + (transition-time: 2s) [ [[Open the door ]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:3s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Go back downstairs and try a door down there.]] ]

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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:5s) + (transition-time: 3s)[Go upstairs and see if your office [[has a keyhole.]] ] (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:7s) + (transition-time: 3s)[Go and find your partner and [[ask them what they think of all this.]] ]

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 so 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. (transition:"fade") + (transition-delay:10s) + (transition-time: 3s)[ [[Go to the wall at the top of the stairs.]] ]