The Key

The key had been her talisman in childhood.  It was a touchstone, the only piece of her dimly-recalled grandfather she had left.  It hung on a battered green ribbon around her neck, a reassuring weight bouncing against her breastbone that told her with every thump that she had belonged to someone.

It wasn’t until she grew up that she realized what that meant.  The door the key opened, the world behind it.  At first, the excitement.  Then the dangers, the demands.  The discovery of what her family had been, and what they’d been willing to do.  Their rise, their fall, their flight.  What they had left behind.

She held the key in her hand, felt the weight of it one last time.  Then she jammed it into the lock, broke it off, and walked away.


This weekend’s Trifextra challenge at Trifecta Writing Challenge asked for exactly 33 words telling a story in which an object serves three different functions.  33 words struck me as a drag, so I didn’t link up, but it inspired me to write this.

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  1. kathy says:

    I love this! Now I want to know what’s on the other side of that door.

    There has to be something with which I can pick a lock around here…

  2. Annabelle says:

    I suspect it’s a place I wouldn’t want to spend time. At least, not if I were her…

  3. sonya says:

    hmmm, now we need to know why she broke the lock.

  4. Jester Queen says:

    Woah! I expected it to launch her on a grand adventure. I love that she took the opportunity to walk away and start her own life.

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