The key did not want me to bury it.
The tang of dread lay thick on my tongue as that thought went through my mind over and over. I clutched my hand loosely against my chest, fingertips still burning. Eyes narrowing, I glared at the relic that had seared me. The fact that the key was fighting not to be buried only made me want to do so more.
There was no doubt in my mind that if I kept the key, the visions would continue. The worsening of each vision was proof of that. Surely, once I was rid of it, the visions would cease along with the unusual sensation inside of me. It was an intrusion, that tingling feeling of energy on the verge of bursting from me any second, and it was one I wanted gone.
I couldn’t logically explain what was happening to me, something that frustrated me greatly. All I knew was that if I put the relic back into the earth where it belonged, things would go back to normal.
I hoped.
I cast a glance out of the six-paned window on the far side of the room. The morning light filtering through the filmy white curtains was quickly warming from gray to a soft yellow. It was still early; if I hurried, I would be able to get the key in the ground without anyone noticing.
I crossed the room to peer out of the aged glass. My neighbors didn’t seem to be out and about yet. I drummed my fingers against the windowsill. I could wait until the cover of darkness, I supposed, but that posed a problem: spending more time with the key.
The haunted relic sitting on my desk looked innocent enough, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I would leave before I changed my mind. Or before the key changed it for me.
After a quick dash to my room to grab my favorite bag—a well-worn khaki messenger tote—I returned to the study. I carefully coiled the relic in the original wrappings before bundling it tightly. Then, for good measure, I grabbed Chaucer, my ever-trusty knife, to take with me as well.
I eased the back door shut behind me, finding the situation a little ridiculous as I walked softly to the small garden shed nestled beside the garage.
The contents inside the dark building were covered in dust, spiderwebs clinging onto every corner. I had tried my hand at gardening after the unexpected passing of my father to get my mind off of my grief. Unlike my mother, I didn’t have the knack for it. The glorious rose bushes at the front of the house were the only evidence of her I’d seen in my life. My father had taken care of those roses religiously. I was wise enough to hire someone to tend the landscaping for me. I was much better at pulling things out of the earth, than guiding them to flourish inside of it.
“Except for now,” I mumbled.
I rifled through an array of gardening tools on the cluttered table. Finally, I found a wooden-handled trowel. It would take longer to dig a decent-sized hole with it, but if someone caught me walking into the woods with a shovel, it would definitely appear suspicious.
I tried to wipe the dust from the trowel but only succeeded in smearing the grime around, so I gave up and stuck it inside my bag to join my knife and the key.
I made my way carefully around the back of the house on soft steps. I wasn’t exactly sure why I was being so sneaky—it wasn’t as if me going on a walk into the wooded park was anything unusual—but I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me hide the key. I had to protect it.
Wait. I stopped at the edge of the trail. Protect it?
Where had that thought come from? I didn’t want to protect the relic. I wanted to be rid of it.
The new thought was well on its way to worming itself into my brain, though, and I found myself second-guessing. I couldn’t shake the growing feeling that what I was doing was wrong.
My cheeks puffed out in a big sigh as my head swiveled between my house and the wooded trail. Then, like white-hot lightning, the memories of the horrible visions flashed in my mind, burning away any hesitation.
No. I had to get rid of it.
Now.
The need trying to claw its way into me to keep the key only firmed my resolve. This relic had given me those visions, and it was clinging to me, whispering into my mind not to cast it away. I had to get rid of the visions...and that itching foreign energy shifting restlessly beneath my skin.
I hurried into the forested park. It wasn’t until I was under the rustling canopy that I recalled the fact that, not long before, I had been certain I was being followed down this very path. Unease squirmed in my stomach as that sensation returned.
I glanced over my shoulder but found no one. Scanning around me, I discovered no evidence of another person, either.
I flipped open my bag, letting the flap wedge between the bag and my hip so I could quickly grab my knife if I needed to. Just in case. Whether I would be able to actually use it against someone was another matter, especially after the visions showed me what the blade would look like glistening in blood.
With each step, my pulse quickened, hidden eyes on my heels. Once I was deep enough into the woods, I took a right and abandoned the trail. The park wasn’t massive—the other end of the trail came out at a town square with quaint shops—but it was large enough where I wouldn’t be seen if I was careful.
I picked my way around the trees and over fallen branches, still attempting to be stealthy, until I found a spot that satisfied me. The brush was denser there, mostly young trees and briars. It definitely was not a place where someone would take an idle stroll. Besides, even if they did, they wouldn’t just start digging. Hopefully.
I set my bag on the ground beside me as I got onto my knees. After another quick glance around to assure myself I was alone, I began pushing aside damp leaves and debris. I pulled out my knife, unsheathed it, and set it within reach. The trowel came next, and I got to work, thankful it was not yet far enough into fall for the ground to be stiff with cold.
One scoop after another, I dug, glancing around with every addition to the small pile of dirt. Would the unseen eyes that had been following me leave after I buried the key?
I sliced the trowel into the ground quicker, eager to get the relic out of my life. I wasn’t sure how big to make the hole. How deep did one need to dig into the earth to bury a cursed key forever?
After fighting past roots and digging shoulder-deep, I figured it was good enough. I set the trowel down and drew the key from my bag. Though it was covered, I could almost feel the slender length of the key. Its weight almost seemed welcome in my hand.
I shook my head against the thought of keeping it. The tendons popped in my wrist, and my palm tingled. It was almost as if my body was fighting to hold onto the key.
My eyebrows pinched together as I worked my fingers loose one at a time. Tilting my hand over the hole was more of an effort than it should have been. The key dropped into the freshly dug earth, and I let out the breath I’d held trapped in my lungs.
I grabbed the trowel and quickly started shoveling dirt over the key as the irrationality of my mind told me to snatch it back up. When finally I was finished, I patted the dirt down hard and pulled leaves and sticks back over the bare earth.
“There. Back where you belong.” The words tasted like a lie on my tongue.
I shoved the trowel and knife back into my bag and stood, brushing debris from the knees of my pants. Hairs rose on the back of my neck, and I peered through the trees, certain someone was still watching me.
Perhaps if I walked away, the sensation would fade.
As I left, I refused to look back toward the buried key, despite the urge to do so. Relief did not come to me as I thought it would. Instead, the more distance I gained between myself and the key, the more dread sank into my stomach.
Leaning my back against the rough bark of an oak tree, I swallowed. My hands were cold and clammy as I clenched them. Every muscle inside me was taut as I fought with myself not to turn around and return to the relic.
It was bad news. The key had already caused me problems, and I’d only had it for several days. I couldn’t imagine what it would have done if I had kept it.
Well, no, I could imagine. Pain, death, destruction...and at my hands. Burying it was the right thing to do.
Wasn’t it?
Surely no one else would find it.
Thinking on it some more, I wasn’t so sure. Finding it in ancient ruins had been extremely difficult, but finding it two feet underground in a public park? Wouldn’t that be a piece of cake by comparison?
Maybe burying it hadn’t been the best course of action. Perhaps I should have worked harder to find out more about it. Doing so would have led me to a better solution.
I looked back toward the way that would lead me to the key. It was dangerous, maybe even evil, but I couldn’t just leave it there. I had to dig it back up and keep it safe. Besides, I had this nagging feeling that I was meant to be in possession of the key.
Groaning, I pushed away from the tree. “This is crazy. You’re crazy.”
As I made my way back toward the key, I internally berated myself. What had I been thinking? I had given up entirely too easily. Where had my sense of adventure, my love for a difficult challenge, my thirst for knowledge gone to?
They had been chased away by those horrid visions, I reminded myself.
Maybe no one would find the key in the park. After all, I’d only found it in the ancient ruins because I knew that was where to find such things. No one would be digging around off the beaten trail of the path of some park.
Yet, my feet still dragged me back to dig up the key.
I stepped over a rotting log blanketed in moss. How long would the visions persist? Could the key actually make me do anything I didn’t want to do? Surely not.
My steps faltered when I realized the key was getting what it wanted. I was returning to unearth it once more.
I ground my teeth. No. This was my decision. If anything, I was only taking it back so I could keep others from getting their hands on it. As soon as I learned more about it, I would be able to get rid of it once and for all. Safely.
As I neared the area where I had buried the key, shadows fell over me. I glanced up, confused to find the sky bright and blue, the morning sun glittering through the leaves. Where had the shadows come from?
Ignoring the bumps prickling my skin, I continued. I was getting close now. Why was it so dark? And quiet? The usual chirping of birds had ceased. Not even the rustle of leaves met my ears. Energy buzzed inside me as my eyes landed on the area just ahead. Just to where the key was buried.
And then, I froze.
There, amid the patch of briars, was a figure.
Someone was already digging up the key.