The Key

• In response to the 3rd prompt on the newly re-opened Writer’s Island, I offer a gothic tale…
• I also offer this in response to prompt #116 at One Single Impression




The Key

•

I must move quickly from this light
that pools incrementally
in this long
pungent
segmented hallway

there is some safety in the shadows
that linger tight
to the arch walls

so I bolt
through the full moon’s glow
that seeps silvered through the windows

I press myself
against the damp irregular surfaces
that are the stacked-stone
boundary breaks
of this eerie chiseled passage

I pause at each
until I reach the last

I halt

sliding two fingers
of my right hand
into the small pocket of my waistcoat
to confirm that it is still there
I feel the cool brass
of the oddly carved key

relief seasons my trepidation

nothing in my being
wants this dire mission
to which I am shackled

but it is only my hand
on the inscripted dagger
gripped tightly in my left
that can bring an end
to my uncle’s unholy
reign of horror

I am the last surviving member
of our cursed bloodline
so the brutal deed
falls to me

creeping stealthily forward
like a shade on the dank wall
I move cautiously closer
to the iron-laden
dense wood door
of his sleeping chamber

my heart pounding
my diaphram starved for breath
I feel I may pass out

but still I pursue
the evil incarnate
that lies
locked away
in undead repose

suddenly
a noise
immediately behind me

it echoes through these catacombs
pierces my taut raw nerves
and instantly paralyzes me

trembling
I turn

no one there

hushed
I listen intently

no other sounds
save the blood
pulsing as a roar
in my ears

I begin to move
but again
I hear it

panicked
I jerk my head around
and see

in this frozen moment
my stressed mind deduces
the source of the noise

moisture
collecting on the stone ceiling
gathers overhead
into sagging condensation

it released
as a weighty droplet
splattering on the floor
just behind me
with a sharp startling slap

I relax a bit
enough to again draw
tensioned breath

several more labored
careful steps
and I place my hand
gently on the wrought handle
of the immense door

transferring the lethal dagger
to my quivering right hand
I reach
steadily as possible
into my pocket
and withdraw the strange key

it is unnaturally heavy
and seems to emanate
an unearthly energy

I clutch it firmly
fearing if I lose my grip
I will lose my nerve

I guide the key
into the slot
of the ornate handle plate
seating it fully

slowly I begin to turn it

I feel the resistance
as the key’s teeth
engage with the bolt
and begin to grudgingly
draw it from its secure well

just before I have fully retracted it
I pause
my mind racing
blood pressure soaring
overcome by the magnitude
of what I am about to do

no turning back now
this must be done
and I must do it
but I am terrified

still I hesitate
attempting to gain
my much needed composure

I slow my heartbeat
steady my breathing
steel my resolve
and turn the key
its final quarter inch

the lock clicks
the handle releases
and the door unseats inwardly

this is it
fate has dealt the deck
I am prisoner
in this horrible game

I swing the door open
ever so gradually
and step in
toward my destiny…

• • •

rob kistner © 2010


21 thoughts on “The Key”

  1. Vampire and horror movie fan that I am, I found myself leaning closer and closer to the screen. As I approached the end, my hand rose to block the final lines so I would not skip ahead. Uncle was finally going to get his due. Hero was heroic and I fell into a . . .

    cliffhanger!!!??? Aaarrraghhh.

  2. wow you sure have a way with words. You painted great pictures like “so I bolt
    through the full moon’s glow
    that seeps silvered through the windows” beautiful and you surely can build up tension. and got me hooked to the story

  3. Sometimes a few seconds can seem like a lifetime and you’ve managed to get this feeling across to great effect. After that build up, any other ending would have been an anti-climax.

    1. Hi Stan – Appreciate your ind words. An overriding reason for the ending being such is that I don’t know what happened once the person stepped through the door — I thought only the reader could really know…
      …rob

    1. Hi Linda – I prefer free verse, and am drawn to imagery and story line — but if you peruse my site, you will find considerable variety. One of my favorite poets is Gary Snyder, who is strong with story line…

  4. Hi there. I did bad. When this happens, I never have a problem deleting ONE link. So I did. And they ALL disappeared. Obviously, Mr. Linky is bad again. Somehow. PLEASE put your link in again! I would but I never noted what the link was. Next time I will keep a copy before I delete. I’m so sorry to bother you!

  5. such a wonderfully dark and dangerous ride!

    Rob, your recordings of your poetry are wonderful. I have been wanting to put voice recordings of my poetry on my blog. Can you share with me how you do this. Seems this might be a website instead of a blog… does that make a difference? Thanks, Tammie

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