Respect

There was only one rule: don’t open the door!

Okay.

He decided to obey.

The master shut the main gate of the castle and left his servant beside the massive oak door leading to the basement. With the final bolt in place, he knew that the structure was secure with his duties.

He stared at the door.

It was his first week on the job, and he knew that the title of servant to the master was one that was honorable and cherished. To lose such a title would bring disgrace and shame on his family…and perhaps more beheadings. It was not worth it.

He attended to his duties.

The cobwebs were the worst. Every nook and cranny had one, often accompanied by spiders that were not happy to have their homes removed. Potions and spellbooks were tidied up and put away; bats were fed in the belfry; the moat restocked with fresh meat for the beasts that seemed more of a comfort now that he was within the walls.

And then it happened…

After the first week he heard a procession of shrieks and screams from the door, often echoing for hours without a pause (cotton balls often came in handy); the second week brought silence, but there were the occasional gouts of blood spilling out from underneath it (just some simple mopping there); finally, his name was invoked by unseen spirits who really wanted him to open it and enter their realm (another test he did not fail).

And then, the master returned.

“You never ventured inside?”

“No master.”

The master checked the door, slightly disappointed. His new servant had told the truth.

“But…were you not curious?”

“I was,” admitted the servant, “and I would have gone in, but…”

“But what?”

“I lost the key.”

-300 words

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

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