Archive for the The Key Category

The Key: Episode 2

Posted in Fantasy, Fiction, The Key on September 2, 2009 by GuNNhead

“Oh my, who are you?”
“I… my name is… uh, Quarter.”
“What an interesting name, mine is Trisitone, from the land of Valencian winds.”
“Hey, that’s great, I really have to get going, though.”
“Where do you come from?” She stares at him intently.
“Uh, nowhere, look, it’s been great meeting you, but I have somewhere I need to be, bye.”
“Oh, it’s been a pleasure meeting you as well, Quarter!”

He takes the stairs downwards past the stone table, heading back towards the castle, when he notices that she following him. He turns around.
“Hey, Trisitone, where I’m going, I have to go alone.”
“Tris, call me Tris, all my friends do.”
“Hmm, you should really get back to what you were doing.”
“Oh, I really wasn’t doing much of anything.”
“Fine, whatever, where I’m going is a secret, can you keep a secret?”
“Ooh, I simply adore secrets! I have many I’ve never told to a soul!”
“Good, because this is that kind of secret, let’s go.”
“How exciting!”

He travels through the garden with her silent gentle footsteps in tow; through the large hedge maze, in between hidden sections and undergrown overgrowths. Finally, they make it to a vine covered wall on the eastern side of the castle. He begins to feel around, and simultaneously, he pulls upon a vine, and pushes against a brick. The secret passage slowly swings open towards the inside. He pulls her inside in front of him, and closes the door behind. They travel up a large winding staircase, lit only by iridescent mushrooms growing sporadically upon the walls and ceiling. Ignoring many other passages, an unrevealed one is at last chosen by Quarter, and they enter a mid-size room, a forgotten hidden section in the east wing. The floors are marble, and shine with a mirror quality polish. Turning to the left, they enter what appears as a dead end hallway. As Quarter presses himself up against the far wall, it slowly begins to glow, and the familiar red color appears, along with the white V ending in two white lines, then slides open.

Inside the marble floors begin anew, with the familiar stone walls adorned with painting and cloth. Directly to the front there is a pedestal with an extravagant fountain. Connected to this large structure is a small set of stairs, leading up to a large circular bed that is as wide as the room covered in red silk sheets, and hooded by veils.

“Ooo, how lovely! Is this your accomidates?”
“Yeah, I guess, but I need you to wait here, make yourself comfortable, there’s something that I must do.”

As she heads to the bed, he heads to the fountain. There is a scale on the top of the three tier fountain, with one of the scales disconnected, resting on the middle tier. First, he reconnects the disconnected right scale to the beam, balancing the scales. Then, he reaches into the water at the bottom, and as he holds his hand there, it begins to glow, and he pulls out the coin, a thin stone. He holds the coin in his hand, and rubs it, soon it turns a bright green, and four holes appear in it. It is ready, and he places it in the cavity in the flat wall of the front of the fountain behind the pool of water.

Suddenly he’s transported to a much muted reality, and, in great pain, he spits blood as it pours from his mouth.
“Fuck, this isn’t normal.”

The Key

Posted in Fantasy, Fiction, Sci-Fi, The Key on August 12, 2009 by GuNNhead

The man stealthily jogs down the large corridor with its checker-tiled floor, hair bobbing with every step. He wears a red uniform, adorned with a strikingly large white V upon the chest, ending in a white belt, continuing along his arms, down his sleeves; his pants have two white lines piping down the side of his legs, finding his white boots. Turning a corner into the central hallway, he sees the King and his royal robotic guards exiting into another of the many corridors.
– Not where he’s heading.

The man positions himself against the wall to wait for the King to have fully left from the main hall before continuing on with his agenda. He enters the second corridor on his right, and heads the second door on his left. As with all doors in this castle, it is large and red, looking almost plush and foam-like to the touch, with a white V ending in two white lines, one on the top, and one on the bottom. The man goes to the right side of the door, and as he pushes on it, the side of the door silently slides open, directly forward, with ease. It is then, in this new corridor, that he notices one of the many patrolling robotic guards, embellished with the same red color and large, white V on their chests; the man exits back into the other hall, but cannot reach the door to close it. He takes cover behind a pedestal, readying his pistol blaster from the holster on the high back side of his right hip. The automaton reaches the open door; it pauses in its rounds, analyzing the door with scrutiny. Its singular red-light-eye scans, back and forth, back and forth, without emotion. Taking another second to calculate action, the machine closes the door, and continues on its rounds.

Hesitating, waiting for the time it would take for the robot to have gone, the man opens the door again, seeing the robot turning to the left, out of the hallway and into another. The man makes his way towards the corridor that the guard turned, passing by the corridor, and entering a large circular room with books lining the walls, and large elegant windows that face a courtyard from five stories above, an enchanted forest off in the distance. He then hears the tank-like treads of another patrolling automaton approaching, following the same set path as the last. Knowing he will be caught if he remains another second, he leaps through the window, shattering it. Once outside, the shards pause in mid-air, and quickly reform the pane.

Falling multiple stories, the man lands haphazardly, but surprisingly lightly, as if on a cushion of air: there are different rules at play here. On the stone surface of the garden terrace of the courtyard, he stands, brushing himself off out of habit. He looks around, examining his surroundings; to his right, he notices a beautiful young woman in a sheer peplos sitting at a stone table, reading, and enjoying the fresh air. She stares at him quizzically. He is not from this land.