What use had he for two sets of keys? The first for himself, surely, this much was clear. But what of the second? To his parents, it might be suggested, but he would rather not. His mother would clean and reorganize while he was away, and never again would(more) he find his things, and his father would simply drink his beer before he ever got the chance.
Perhaps to a trusted friend then? No, he would say, for a friend can only be trusted for so long before they begin to mooch and become a hassle, much as had the stray cats that had populated the area of his youth.
Could it not be of use as an emergency spare? He would scoff at the thought. If it were to be left inside the house, or in the car, or in the shed, then it would be of no use when it was needed, because it would be stowed away and out of reach. And were it to be hidden away outside, more likely then not he would have forgot where he hid it by the time he needed it, else someone else would have come along and found it and raided at will.
So he sat and thought a while on this, and as he thought, a girl came along and made off with his heart. He chased her down, and when he caught her, she promised him the return of his heart in exchange for the second set. He was reluctant, but he needed his heart, and relented. But she had lied to him, and in exchange for the keys, she gave away her own heart in place of his.(less)
He won't let me go.
And I mean that twice.
I have a key that opens both doors.
I know what the right answer is,
That doesn't mean I know the right thing to do about it all.
Just because it's right doesn't mean it's right for me.
Not(more) being right and being wrong aren't the same things.
I want nothing more than for you to be right for me.
Fit the key and let it click open.
But this was never right from the start.
I'm pushing for the wrong answer to be right.
Trust. Trust is letting someone walk into your life and settle in. And for us, it's quite a bit closer than that.
My home. My wolf den. It's open to a lot of people. Friends can knock, some even know when I leave the door unlocked so the(more)y can just walk in. Some know that they can come in and crash when they need to rest, or stay over to escape some bit of harsh life that's chewing them out. Some of them I'll let stay over for collaboration purposes. But mostly, I enjoy the idea of the echoes of my own footsteps, my own existence. Sighs that sigh back to me in the hallway. My own melody in the air. My own thoughts drifting lazily to the ceiling to hover as I see them.
Then again, I have tired of my own scent, the scent of my family pack. And now that I'm on my own...
...I suppose I could stand a bit of change.
Here. A set of keys to my place. The second set I've kept handy. I usually use it as a back up, in case I stupidly leave the first somewhere, but I've... become more accustomed to handling it more responsibly.
Hm. You're welcome in and out as you please. Come in, leave your shoes at the door, and make yourself at home. Tread lightly, because they aren't just the keys to my house... but to my trust, to my dreams, to my heart, and to my life as well.
I eagerly waited for you to come back, and I know you had to leave again. And this 'in and out' will have to keep on for a while. We both know this. But...
... I hope you'll eventually come back and stay.(less)
there are two sets of keys;
one to my heart,
and one to my soul.
after I gave you both,
you swallowed the keys,
and walked away.
(more) and now I'm
I'm losing my grip on life.
will you help me,
or continue to watch me fall?(less)
He awoke in a dark, cavernous room, with a small pedestal in its center. A small light shining from seemingly nothingness illuminated the pedestal, and resting on it were two sets of keys. About ten paces behind the pedestal, two doors stood silently, stoic and unforgiving. A choice.
"No turning back!" he thought, and he made his choice.(less)
He was running rings around those peelers, outsmarting them at every turn. By now it was practically a game! Honestly, he couldn't offer any more help short of handing himself in. He's given them warnings, given them targets, given them times, and still, still, still! They fall behind. It(more) was pathetic.
Disguised as an eager young reporter he's talked to some of the on-duty officers, scoping out how close (hah) they were to catching him, and honestly it took all he had not to laugh at the fresh-faced policeman's determination and sincerity, considering how misguided and off track these poor suckers are. None of their theories come close, none of their plots and plans have a snowball's chance, and it's enough to make him consider giving maybe one more clue, since they're always and absolutely stumped at his fleet-footed entrances and mercurial exits.
They always overlook the second set of keys.(less)
There are two sets of keys to me. They unlock all of the doors that stand between who I am and what people are allowed to see me as. I don't actually need a set. I know how to pick all of the locks and know all of the(more) tricks. No one knows me better than I do.
I've already given away one of the sets. A sibling that I picked, she might not always understand, but at least she knows. In a lot of ways she owns a piece of my soul, and all of my future. I can rely on her, even if I swear I don't need help. Even if taking that help makes me feel awful and strike out.
But there is this other set. I guard it well, because I can't trust just anyone. And it is my last set, all I have left. I might not need it, but what if I do one day? What if I give it away to the wrong person? So many fears and hopes that swirl around me and surround this last set. Whoever gets this last group is either going to have to earn it five times over, or is going to have to take it. I won't be giving it away lightly. (less)
If you choose the left, you return to your dead end job with your lovely wife and kids. You're reading them a bed time story and you're hating yourself for never taking a chance. You'll always wonder if(more) you've made the right decision.
The right remains unpredictable. It. Will. Destroy. You. in. the. End. You will be hunted; you will live on the edge, never having enough time to look back on past decisions. Only enough time for "do".
An adventure awaits your first step. Breath. Take it in. Let the cool air enter your lungs, and exhale your fears.
Not unlike a baby bird, uncertain of flight; spread your wings.(less)
There are two sets of keys to the house, but the other doesn't know about that. He only knows what the second will allow. Which is to say, not much. He doesn't know about the keys or the cameras or the wiretaps. He doesn't even have the slightest idea(more) what he did to push the second so far. The second however, knows all.
Of course this limiting of knowledge is done with purpose. What would the other do if he found out? Panic, certainly, and panic is not apart of the plan, not yet. No no, panic at this stage would bring the whole house of cards down, and the second spent far too much damn time in construction.
Not yet. But soon. The arbiter is coming. Soon. (less)
I remember two sets of keys on the guard's ring. I'd seen him unlock the dungeon entrance (a massive, cast-iron behemoth) with one, and the other set remained a mystery. Until tonight.
From my hiding spot, I tracked his progress along the usual path. As he lumbered past(more) pillar after pillar, the keys jingled against his ancient denim. The newer prisoners gazed up as he passed, hope still fresh in their hearts. The sound of keys can inspire such high, fleeting spirits in the damned. Along he trodded, absentmindedly crushing them with each step. The older prisoners didn't even glance up from their conspiring.
And they'd been long conspiring. I should know -- I was one of them.
The compatriots of my recent escape had all died; I was merely the lucky one. If eroded joints, cancerous skin, and decimated lungs could be called lucky. I could hardly walk, hence my hunched hiding spot. Play to your weaknesses!
The guard turned the corner, out of sight for another 90 seconds. With my wooden bedpost as a makeshift cane (it left welts in my palm), I hobbled up and shuffled as fast as possible to my next destination. I counted down in my head until the guard would re-emerge from his pacings, 60 seconds to go, 50 yards to go. I half-panicked, adrenaline surging, cane-post tapping the stone, bare feet flapping the cold floor.
10 feet away, and I could hear him whistling behind me. The inmates didn't make a peep, they knew what would happen to me if I was discovered. Flaying.
3 feet left, I grabbed my cane, and after a few steps, slid under the vast dark wooden desk. Only seconds to go.
The guard walked directly to the desk and stood. I grabbed the keys and ran.(less)
They say that every day lived is a world of new opportunities. When one door closes, two more open to a host of beginnings, each filled to the brim with the swirling colors and promises of a better life. They say that those who work earn, and that success(more) comes to the deserving.
I’m tired of banging at every door, pleading for entrance into this fabled world of good fortune.
If I were truly deserving, these doors would not be eternally locked to me. My hard work and dedication alone would be enough to grant me these new possibilities that seem to come effortlessly to everyone else. So do I deserve to be happy? Probably not.
I don’t want it anymore. You’ve handed me two sets of keys, and darling, I don’t want either of them.
Two sets of keys aren't necessary, my friend. I possess the only needed set; one for the lock on the door, and one for the lock on the drawer. There are no other keys, nor have there ever been. Besides, these are old keys and old locks, you couldn't simply have the(more) locksmith make a new set, not cheaply, anyway. You will receive your payment from me when you have completed the task I have laid out for you. You must trust me in this. Without trust, all is lost.
How could I not? He was promising me more money than I had ever accepted for a job. I could trust him, for now.
When you arrive--he continued---Call this number and let it go to voicemail. You will receive final instructions on where to find the keys then. You must call this number then and only then. Otherwise, everything is off and, quite suddenly, your safety will be in great jeopardy.
I had heard threats made to me many times before. But I never sought such the illusory condition that the word "safety" promised. Safety was a lie, even now. I agreed to the man's terms and, seperately, we left the hotel.
The agreed upon time came two nights later. When I arrived at the drop it was after midnight, and though i had made sure no one had followed, I found myself scanning the street every few seconds or so. I dialed my phone. I scanned the street . "You have reached the voice mail of Yale Gerber" It was a stranger's voice, "Please leave a message at the tone." I began to panic until the voice continued, "The keys are in a small box in the storm drain." (less)