Flash Fiction: Always Closed

The door at the bottom of the stairs was always closed, so it had a reputation for being an object of mystery. The three children who lived in the old house often speculated what secrets hid beyond the dark, six-panel barrier.

The door, which was fitted with an intricate, brass plate around the knob, was forever locked, and the adults never wanted to talk about it. The three children remained determined.

Mother wore the key around her neck, until one day when she left the key on the bathroom sink. Marius snatched the opportunity with greedy fingers.

Not much time, not much time until she noticed. Nearly in a kind of frenzy, he gathered the other two, and they hurried to the door, which, somehow, seemed larger.

Mother’s voice rang out from the bathroom. She’d already noticed the absence of the key. It was now or never.

And so Marius unlocked the door, and the three of them stepped inside, finding themselves on a dark, city street, a tantalizing scent of blood in the cool air. This hunting ground was ripe.

Like short fiction? How about a whole dang book of it? My newest release is available in both print and ebook forms on the Amazon. Link down yonder.

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