Unlocking the Truth

            Marty kneeled close to the marble floor to look under the leather couch. She had to find her small journal. If she didn’t she would most likely die of boredom, maybe then her grandmother would feel guilty for locking her in this cold and empty mansion.

She lifted the flap of the white leather to find…nothing. Her heart sank and her stomach churned as she thought of reading another lifeless book from the endless Library of Death.

I’ve looked everywhere!! This was the last place I haven’t checked! Marty groaned internally. But, she wasn’t about to give up. In a flickering moment of hope she ran to grab a flashlight from one of the drawers in the large kitchen, and quickly sprinted back, diving under the couch.

She caught her breath and tried to focus, slowly scanning the floor, left to right, right to left, again: Left to right and right to left, and again. Nothing.

Don’t give up yet, one more time, then maybe I’ll check somewhere else.

She crawled further under the couch, trying not to breathe in the dust bunnies that inhabited these plains. She scanned the floor again, watching every square inch that she could, and it paid off. Finally, she caught a glimpse of a shining object, but it wasn’t on the floor, it was hidden on the bottom of the couch.

            It was a silver skeleton key, held hostage by a few sewing threads and a needle. There was no way Marty could leave this behind. Her imagination ran wild. This key could open worlds of adventures, it could find buried treasure, and it was exactly what Marty needed to prevent herself from dying of boredom. The possibilities were honestly endless.

            So, she pulled the needle from the couch, then unwound each thread from the key. Finally, the key was free and she held it tightly within her grasp. Suddenly, she felt a furry thing brush her leg and she jumped, hitting her head on the wooden planks supporting the couch’s bottom.

“Ow!” Marty cried, whipping her head around to find the perpetrator. Her grandmother’s old pug Francis looked dumbly at her, then continued sniffing the area, as if he had done nothing wrong.

“Francis! You dumb dog! That really hurt!”

He looked at her again, this time he seemed a little more apologetic as he tilted his head and whined, as if he was saying sorry.

“Ugh, I forgive you, just keep grandma busy while I go explore.”, She eagerly told him, holding up her find to his old sagging dog eyes.

Her quick twelve year old feet carried her as fast as they could to the attic. Almost all secrets were hidden in the attic, where dust and memories from previous decades lingered.

Marty finally made it into the dusty old attic, it was warm from the summer heat, but it didn’t slow her down. She uncovered sheets off of old mirrors, stands, and dressers. She opened boxes, books, and floorboards (well, she tried that last one, but nothing came up. She just ended up breaking a few nails in the process).

All Marty ended up getting from the whole thing was a runny nose, itchy eyes, and more frustration than before. It was one thing to have nothing to do, but it was another to have the hope of adventure, and then have that hope harshly crushed under reality’s weight.

I bet this key is just some random key for grandma’s old closets stuffed of sewing supplies, or boxes, or something. Marty grumpily thought to herself.

She leaned against the wall and slowly sunk to the floor, Stuck with boredom again., she couldn’t help but admit to herself.

As she sat against the wall, she leaned her head against a box right next to her, but she suddenly felt a hard bump protruding against her head. Not willing to get her hopes up again, she turned around, keeping her expectations low. She slowly pushed the box out of the way and found a doorknob.

It was rusted from time and lack of attention. But it was more than enough for Marty. She quickly opened it, finding a short single staircase made up of 4 carpeted stairs. Marty took no time in crawling on the red carpeted stairs to the top. There she found a small room decorated in red and white.

The curtains were red with a white border, the walls were white with a red border, and the carpets were red. There was also a white desk with dead roses, huddled together in a clear vase. Marty slowly stood and sat on the white chair with red pillows, feeling extremely elegant.

She studied the contents on the desk: the mirror, the vase, a notebook, and a picture of a woman in a white, flowy sundress, kissing a man who had a red plaid shirt and blue jeans. The couple seemed cute, and the girl definitely reminded Marty of her grandmother with blonde hair and tan skin, which she always heard stories of. However, the man had brown hair, and her grandpa, who passed away a few years back, had always had red hair.  Also, although Marty wasn’t sure, this man seemed to be of Puerto Rican descent.

But despite all that, Marty chose to be naïve. That man was her grandpa, just with lighter hair, probably because it was the summer, and a dark tan, again, could be easily explained away by the summer sun.

However, now Marty’s interests were piqued, and her hands wandered over to the notebook, flipping the embroidered flowery cover. It was like a small scrapbook. Pictures of her grandmother and the man, with names of Lacey Jo and Sebastian written in beautiful cursive over the man and the woman. There was no way Marty could deny it now, this man was her grandmother’s lover at one point.

 It probably meant nothing, Marty consoled herself, But why would she have a room dedicated to her relationship with him? Why did she marry grandpa if she loved this Sebastian guy?

As she continued to flip through the notebook, she found love letters, rose petals, and trinkets taped to the brown, cardboard-like pages. At the end she read the lasting note written in charcoal: Here our love is captured forever, never to be forgotten. Always binding me to you, as the pages bound to this notebook. I’ll never leave your side, even when I’m gone- S.R.C.

Suddenly, Marty felt guilty as she read the note. She shouldn’t have come in here, it was too personal. It wasn’t hers to know; it was too much. Her heart broke for her grandmother who always seemed to have a mediocre life. Someone who was always in the background, just white noise for the passing scenes of each moment.

But she still hadn’t answered the biggest question of all. What did this key open? Why did her grandmother bother hiding it to the bottom of the couch (a place that would be difficult for her grandmother to reach)?

Sure of the fact that there had to be something else, it didn’t take too long before Marty’s eyes landed on a grey chest with a golden clasp and a keyhole in the middle. Quickly her fingers scrambled down to the box,  slowly pushed in the key, turned it, while praying to herself that this would work.

She heard some clicks, and the box popped open a little, still stuck from years of not being touched. She gently pulled it open and saw a note on the top half of the box saying, Here are the years we spent, immortalized, the souls we took, never forgotten, and the loot we stole, always a treasure for you and I.

An uneasy feeling churned Marty’s gut. Her eyes touched what her hands could not. Ribbons of hair, rings, necklaces, cash, an old revolver, pictures of random people, and other boxes. Finally working up enough courage, she picked up a small box and opened it, hoping it would say this was all a joke, or some inheritance, but rather it only confirmed Marty’s growing suspicion. She opened the velvet box to find a finger and another note, Karla, the old bitch of a boss who fired me. Date: 3/04/45; Time: Midnight; Location: Her husband’s mistress’s backyard Ha!

Marty choked back a gasp. That was enough, she couldn’t stay in the room any longer and wanted to quickly rush out and throw the key into the nearby lake, but she was afraid. Afraid her grandmother would know, afraid of telling someone the truth, even more so afraid of keeping it a secret to the grave, just like her grandmother probably planned to do.

Hands shaking, she quickly closed the smaller box, neatly putting it back in the pile of treacherous objects. Then, she shut the chest as quietly as possible, closed the notebook, and quietly tiptoed down the stairs. Marty shut the door slowly, trying to make herself breathe, or rather, to let go of the breath she had been holding.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. You have to act normal. Everything’s fine, you were just bored and exploring.

Marty leaned her head against the door, trying to gain some courage to go downstairs and possibly lie if need be. Her heart kept racing despite her efforts. She felt like she was going to puke. Another deep breath of musty air, and she turned around, only to face her grandmother coming up the stairs.

She gasped and then began to laugh, but it came out as awkward guffaws.

“Hey nana.” Marty said trying to act normal.

Her grandmother wasn’t amused, “What were you doing up here? You know I don’t mind if you explore, but it’s so hot up here during the summer. It’s also extremely dusty." Her grandmother looked around the room with a sneer on her face. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t started sneezing yet.” She was very curt and serious, but then she sighed.

“Come on, I’ll make you some tea. God knows I need a cup right now.” she laughed softly, and Marty tried to do the same, but Marty’s face remained serious despite herself.

Marty couldn’t help being afraid and tense as she walked down with the woman she no longer knew.

After the endless journey down the stairs, the two finally made it to the kitchen, where her grandmother began pouring two cups of hot tea.

“I know it’s hot out, but just put some ice cubes in it. Trust me it’s worth it, this cup is straight from a girlfriend of mine who went to Mexico. Apparently the locals drink it.” Her grandmother burrowed her eyes as she looked at the bag of tea, and smelled it. “I forget what she called it, but it’s made from the roots of the Yucca plant,” She paused again, smiling this time, “I think.”

            In her brightly flowered sundress, she walked over to the table with the two cups, slowly setting one china tea cup on the far side of the glass table, and one closer to her.

“Okay, it’s gonna be hot, so let me get you an ice cube dear.” Her grandmother told her, no accusations hidden behind her words yet.

“Okay.” Marty responded meekly. She quietly traced the edges of the beautiful artwork on the cup while her grandmother came over and put the ice cube in while giving her a kiss on the head.

“There,” her grandmother said, sitting down, “that should do it.” after some silence her grandmother looked at her, “I really hope you like it. I think it’s absolutely delicious and it really calms down the nerves you know.” She said, waving her hands in front of her body, pretending to flush out bad vibes.

Marty awkwardly went forward to sip from the cup, thankful it gave her an excuse not to talk. It was hot and her tongue was a little burnt, but it was better than she expected. The tea was sweet and relaxing…Marty wanted desperately to fall asleep. Everything went a little hazy and she could hear her grandmother’s voice echo, “Martyyy, are you okay?”

She could feel everything closing in on her, but she had no way to stop it. Her grandmother came over, and Marty felt her body being carried to the couch. A blanket was put over her, and once again she heard her grandmother’s lasting voice, “It’ll be okay Marty, just let go. No one has to know what you saw.”

And she was no longer afraid, only happy and at peace. She would no longer have to decide what to do about the secret. All she could think of in those last moments was the joy of her adventure, and the note, …immortalized, the souls we took, never forgotten…

I will never be forgotten.

And with that lasting memory, Marty joined the family of taken souls.