18 " Mysterious Key"

" Mystery abound where most we seek for answers"

- Ray Bradbury

Jack POV

My body was on fire, it was in colossal pain and I was sweating. It was really difficult; my head felt fuzzy and fragmented memories crawled in my memory. I couldn't defragment those memories, I was punch drunk or in literal case I was slaphappy. I shook my head vigorously so that I could remember anything until the earlier incident struck me. I was hurt, my stomach churned and I could taste the bile rising up to my mouth. I rose unsteadily to my feet and rushed towards the front door panic-kingly. I was literally limping and dragging my bruised body. I looked every direction but there was no sight of them. I shouted her name but the only reply I got were the echo of my own voice and the roaring cars outside. I was mad; I slammed my fist on the railing and cursed for being useless. I could feel my hand throbbing but at that moment all I wanted to know was her whereabouts.

I could hear my neighbor, Mrs. Patterson calling me and asking whether I was okay or not. She walked towards me ,touched my bruised face and I winced to her touch and looked at her; her eyes held that sincere vibe that engulfed me with warm comfort. Her left hand coiled around my waist as she held my hand on her shoulder; slowly she walked me towards her house. Mrs. Patterson is a kind soul in her late fifties. Her husband lost his life near the borders fighting for the country. He was an ex-marine soldier with a muscular body, a handsome face and a beautiful personality. Mrs. Patterson is beautiful despite her age with those grayish hair perfectly bunned up, skin as white as porcelain doll and smile as enchanting as it could ever be. In each smile she was a wise woman, her thoughts overflowed with wisdom and heart filled with kindness and compassion. After my parents' death, she helped me to cope up with everything.

We used to invite her and celebrate Christmas and New Year together in our backyard with a grand feast. My parents used to give her company and she was like a family to us. After the accident, she was the first person to help us and I am really grateful for it. I still remember that time when she secretly sneak into our main room to make sure that we were okay after my dad caused a huge ruckus. She would secretly provide me with food when my mom was bed ridden from all the domestic abuse. I could say that she was with us through thick and thin.

Her house was small, it gave one a cozy and warm ambiance that could really warm up one's heart. She had a small sofa placed beside her fire place, a circular table in front of her and on that there was her unfinished sweater still waiting to be knitted. She sat me on her sofa as I winced with pain; I was startled to see my face glaring back that had more purple than any other color ,my eyes was swollen and my nose in a new shape when I looked at the mirror placed nearby. Sam was indeed strong but I assured myself that if he were to hurt Elisa then I would make him black and blue too. While Mrs. Patterson was away I held my phone and called Elisa but there was no respond. I was worried and scared but I knew Sam wouldn't hurt her.

Mrs. Patterson came with a bowl of cold water, a towel and her medical kit; she cleaned my blooded face and slowly applied an antiseptic on my bruise. She brought me my favorite coffee and sat right beside me. We talked about our daily life and how it was proceeding; I deeply regretted for not being able to talk occasionally to her and missing all those beautiful stories she had in store. My eyes roamed around her living room and it was beautiful as it used to be . At the corner of her shelf, I saw an ancient portrait of a couple. The photo looked familiar and I knew that I saw it somewhere. I asked Misses Patterson about it and what she told me left me stupefied and my doubt proven true.

I ran as fast I could despite my body being filled with bruises. It was really tough to drag my body through the stairs to the second floor; the journey was treacherous and tough. It has been some years after that accident and I haven't been in this room, still then I could sense his presence and smell lingering in it.

The chocolaty couch inlaid with a fine cream patch, leaves embroidered so delicately that it looked real. The windows were covered with grayish regal and majestic curtain that managed to prevent any specks of light from entering. The wall was fitted with shelves and those shelves's being impregnated with books of various genre. My dad really enjoyed reading so it was not an astonishment to find thousands of books lining the wall. The table was placed in the center with a checkered pattern rug beneath it. His document was still left untouched and the room was as same as it used to be.

I remember those times when he used to carry me on his arms and read me "Hamlet". That story was really tragic but it taught me to always think and analyze before taking any action. There was his favorite framed picture of Prince Hamlet in his black tunic lined with white cuff and tight stocking with a black cloak on him. He was holding his darling "Ophelia" in his arms and they represented infatuated lovers. it was placed right beside that last shelf.

I was well versed with the phrases in "Hamlet" and I still remember every act in that play. When I saw the picture of prince Hamlet and Ophelia in Mrs. Patterson house, I was confused; she was never a fan of Shakespeare ,I had never seen her fawning over ancient portrait and above all that picture was same as the one in my dad's room. It was until then when she told me that it was my dad that gave her this picture that everything came into place. I looked around the shelf to see whether I was mistaken or not and to my satisfaction I was right. A new framed photo of "Zeus" stood there replacing the pre photo. And I felt foolish for not realizing that the picture had been changed. I slowly trudged towards it and touched the portrait. There was nothing wrong with the picture but something felt wrong.

The picture was not aligned properly and it was spotless as if someone as already cleaned it. It was only me and my uncle living in this house and I remember clearly that I have never stepped in this room for those past years and my uncle comes home seldom so it was clear that someone was here without our knowledge. I took that frame out to check whether there was something wrong or not but the wall behind it looked fine. I was about to place the frame back when I notice that the corner part of the frame was elevated comparing to the other corner.

I brought the frame on the table; holding a screw on my hand, I opened the frame. A small key with some writing taped securely behind it and there was a writing that read, "Houston Houses for Items" and from what I know there was no place that named "Houston Houses for Items" here in East berg. This key was really mysterious and something in be urged that i had to know about it.

As I walked slowly towards my room, I called Elisa again but there was no respond. I was worried but I had to be calm and wait for her. Before I could lost my mind I had to find about the reading and the key. I opened my laptop and connected it to the charging port, I searched through ever website but it was futile. I was about to move on to alternative method when a site popped in; it was address of a shop where people used to keep their secret belonging and that key was a locker key of that place. I wondered what my dad had to hide that he had to travel faraway to Denmark to do so. I was playing and thinking all the possibilities in my head when I heard my phone beep.