The Key

The Key

slightly edited

Original version featured in the 3/08 issue of the Horror Newsletter.

         The key I held in my hand was heavy, as if it carried some ancient burden. It looked like one of those old skeleton keys, but it was gruesomely decorated. The butt-end was shaped like a large demonic creature with bulging muscles and bat-like wings. It stood on a pile of damned souls, all of which were reaching for the sky in a desperate search for the God that they had betrayed in life.
         I fingered the neck with a strange curiosity. I had no spiritual desire to investigate and to be honest it frightened me, but there is something in the human mind that compels you to investigate the unknown and the occult. I knew for sure that this key was evil.
         I put the key into my pocket and slid its small cedar box back into its hiding place under a large stone slab. I had been raised a strong Roman Catholic. I was what we called a Priest Demon Hunter, though I had never even had a slight encounter with something as evil and negative as this key.
         My father had given me the key, and it made me question my faith. I, at the time, dismissed it as a test and kept it in the chapel basement.
         I was drawn back to the artifact after the strange assassination of the Pope. He wasn't exactly "murdered", but he was attacked in private. He claimed that it was a simple robbery, but his arms and legs were covered in large sores and he looked like death. He shortly became paranoid, constantly saying he had lost the keys. The keys to the gates!
         I had, until this point, believed that he was referring to the key to Heaven; a metaphor for his faith. I now know that I was greatly mistaken. It was literal... and he did not mean Heaven. He had lost the key to Hell. My father had robbed him, or so I believe. Later the poor pope had died because of a sudden stroke and series of "seizures".
         I left the basement and went out to my car. I curtly started the engine and left for the motel of my rented room; an old British Inn. England had many and this was one of the oldest. It had no church, but I didn't mind. It was at least within driving distance to the chapel.
         When I arrived I was walking through the oddly structured building, fingering the key in my pocket, when I noticed four numbers. I pulled it out and examined it closely. What I saw was this: 1134. I scratched my head and felt a strong finger of fear pluck at a heart string. The numbers had not been there before. I then proceeded to my room.
         Once inside, I noted the time. Eleven thirty-four. I thought it was a bit strange and I felt an odd chill, but pushed it in and ignored it. I set the horrid metal object on my nightstand and walked to the bathroom to take a shower. When I looked into the mirror I was horrified. I did not see a reflection as I had expected. I saw a window into a world of fire and suffering. I saw a window into... Hell.
         I backed away and suddenly found my self looking back into my bathroom through the glass window. By the time I had realized it, the window had closed and I was slamming my fist against solid rock in search of a way back into my hotel room.
         I pulled a pen and paper from my pocket and am now writing this in the hopes that someone may find it and show it to the Vatican, to let them know that I have the key on my night stand and they won't release me until it is returned to them after they have waited for thousands of years. I am trapped, but I may be able to get this through. We will know soon enough. I hear the drums of the demons approaching. I must try to get this through now, before it is too late. God have mercy on my soul...

--- John Harlan ---
~Priest and Demon Hunter~
Written by James Cannon