A story based on a sentense from a song
“I have the key in my hand, now all
I have to find is the lock.” I stated matter-of-factly, but it turned out to be
harder than I thought.
I was trapped inside a box. The
walls were covered in locks of various sizes and combinations. There were maybe
a hundred of them, and my only way free was to unlock whichever lock belonged
with this key. I could have spent hours trying every lock, but something about
the key made me pause.
Where had I seen this key before?
It reminded me of the keys used to wind up puppets that would then walk away
from you and fall over when the key wound down. Where was such a lock for this
key? If it wound up something instead of unlocking it, what would move instead
of opening?
I sat on the floor and stared at
the key for a while. After that, I
stared at the locks. What did this key go to? When would I be free of this box
and these locks? I suddenly felt very tired, and I lay on the floor; a puddle
of my former self. I could hardly move, and I could barely see. Soon, I could
see nothing, hear nothing, do nothing, and I was finally happy. No more
worrying about the key and locks.
“Nora, find your dolly and come on,
dear.”
“Yes, mother.” Nora lifted the lid
to her toy trunk, and pulled up the limp doll. She pulled the key from its
hand, wound up the dolly. She ran after
her mother, leaving the key behind.