The Key
“Oh Veronica” Marcy sighed. Her adventurous orange tabby had done it again, another broken plant to clean up and re-pot. “This is the third one this month Hun. Why must you do this?” The plant had been an estate sale find a couple years ago. A very old lady had passed, and her family was selling off most of her things. Marcy remembered feeling drawn to that plant and would have paid whatever they asked. They asked five dollars; she brought it home and set it in her living room window. It had bloomed a few times since, and was pretty, but she had no idea why she’d felt so drawn to it. Now it lie on the floor, surrounded by scattered dirt and pieces of broken pot. “Well, better clean it up I guess.” She headed to the spot with a broom, an empty plant pot and a trash can. Picking up the disheveled plant she heard a metallic clink. Looking down she saw the most beautiful key she’d ever seen. It looked very old, covered in gems and set in a combination of gold and silver. Amazed she picked it up and set it on the windowsill. With the repotting and clean up complete, she took a shower and went to bed, forgetting about the key. That night she had strange dreams of jeweled flowers with precious metal stems. In the morning, she woke feeling refreshed and alert, as though the flowers in her dream had revitalized her in some way. She made her morning tea and went to sit in the living room, that’s when she saw it. The plant she’d repotted the night before, which had always seemed pretty average, had transformed. Not only had it doubled in size, but it now seemed to shimmer all over in a metallic, glittery way that was very unusual. At its top, was a massive flower, that to her still sleepy eyes looked to be formed of colored crystals. As she marveled at it, wondering if she’d ever woken up or was still dreaming, she noticed the center of the blossom and what looked very much like a keyhole. “Veronica looks like you’ve finally driven me mad. I kept saying it would happen one day.” Veronica just purred and rubbed her leg, not seeming to care. Suddenly she remembered the key she’d found. It was still on the windowsill, right where she’d left it. She picked it up and nervously inserted it into the lock. It fit perfectly, taking a deep breath, she turned the key. Music, as if a symphony of harps and windchimes was playing Vivaldi. The flower opened, and opened, as the music got louder. The light in the room was changing, as the flower’s opening grew large as a doorway. Within, she saw golden, jeweled flowers, and the most amazing sky. “Well, miss Veronica, you like adventure. What do you say?” “Meow” With that, she picked up Veronica and her tea and gently stepped inside.
