She held the old-fashioned key in her hand, weighing it. The door had been painted and repainted so many times, but the original lock had been carefully painted around. The lock was slightly rusty and scratched from long ago use. She didn’t know if the key would still work. She had to try it though. She needed to know what was on the other side of that door.
Her grandmother had never allowed her to open that door. It had always been locked, ever since she could remember. Neither of her parents would talk about the room, but insisted that she ask grandmother. Only once had she dared to ask and her usually kind-hearted and easy-going grandmother had turned away, her face frozen in a mask of despair, saying that the room was not to be disturbed.
Now that her grandmother had passed away, it was about to be disturbed. What was behind that door? Why had her grandmother kept it locked? What had she been hiding in there?
She inserted the key and turned it. Grasping the knob in one hand, she pressed the door open with her other hand. Holding her breath, she stepped forward into the room.
Photo Credit: Willow @ http://magpietales.blogspot.com/