There was only one rule: don’t open the door.
A walk onto the pier reveals that the stone crannog has a small black door with no handle or knob, but only a gold plate with a keyhole.
An eerie green light flickers and fades repeatedly from underneath the door and through the hole.
A cacophony which no human ear can comprehend issues from within the forsaken dwelling, sounding impossibly far away while also feeling as if whispered into the ear by hot, panting breaths carried on cold winds that race over the surrounding crags like an insatiable predator bearing down on its prey.
On the door, scrawled sloppily in crusty red letters that could be blood, is a poetic riddle which, unfortunately for many unwary tourists, is all too easy to solve.
To open me
Use the key
Of curiosity.
Even when the locals warn them, they ignore it. After all, who doesn’t like a good mystery? Who doesn’t like a good scare?
Surely, they say to themselves, the locals are just having a little fun. Surely this is just a joke, and a quick peek won’t hurt. Surely…
There was only one rule: don’t open the door.
***** * *****
Still curious? This crannog made its first appearance here:
About the Creator
C. Rommial Butler
C. Rommial Butler is a writer, musician and philosopher from Indianapolis, IN. His works can be found online through multiple streaming services and booksellers.
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