Talk to Nacely.

Hey guys, I want to give a quick shout out to Anthony, Infinite Raven, and Alicia for

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sleep to sign up. That's patreon.com slash drno sleep. And now time for the story.

The key was rusty, splotched red, and gray. It almost blended in with the copper gold of the

dead autumn leaves, but it didn't. It stood out to the boy. And so the boy bent down and picked it up.

Lucky find, he said, gazing at the key with reverence. Images of great adventure

played in his mind, chased by phantoms of guilt and worry. He wasn't supposed to be wandering,

not here, not today. What was it his mother had said? Something about the stars in the sky,

the angle of the sun. There are omens in the air, she'd say. You get us some water from the river,

and you come right back, you hear? Today ain't no time for play, and keep away from that old well.

Of course, the boy had said. He'd promised that under no circumstance would he

dilly or dawdle, nor wander to that old well. She gave him a paddle in the head, a kiss on his

cheek, told him to give a holler if he saw anything odd, and then sent him on his way. But this key,

strange as it was, wasn't odd. It was just a key. The world had plenty of keys. The boy had seen

several of them, and never once had any of those keys caused trouble. So why should this one?

The only question was, who did it belong to? What did it open? He scanned the grassy clearing.

There wasn't much around him, except a scatter of trees to the north, the river to the east,

and the old well to the south. No doors to unlock, no gates to open.

No where to put this rusty key besides in his moth-eaten pocket, and so he did just that.

...