She saw too much.
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Marilyn had just moved into the remote, backwater town of Scaresdale– not willingly.
The teen’s life was a jigsaw puzzle she was trying to put together within a new frame– and new town.
She and her family had just finished freeing a row of cartons of their contents–
Finally.
Some time to explore.
Hide and Go Seek occupied the children–
It was time for Marilyn to do some exploring of her own.
Somehow, the attic had become her center of attention.
An irresistible magnet.
She stepped in, and saw–
A door.
After fiddling about with it for 10 minutes, it was time to put up the white flag.
Then, a shadow beneath it caught her eye.
Sounds of movement within the space– it had to be a room– next door.
A wooden door– locked.
A curious beam of light from the shaft below.
Marylin’s hands tugged at the stubborn handle.
It didn’t budge.
She peered through the keyhole.
A flash of red.
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Rapid motion. Too quick. Too final.
An odd shape.
Familiar– yet not.
It recoiled from her vision–
As if knowing it had been seen.
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Marilyn froze, unsure whether to open the door–
Or run for her life.
The shadow broke apart in her mind, filling the empty spaces-
With dread.
That she couldn’t name.
The air pressed harder, swallowing her.
Her breath seemed to strangle– not relieve.
The room shrank, sandwiching her between its walls.
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The shadow enlarged, morphing into different shapes.
Then, distorted, creeping sounds below the door.
It crept up in different spaces–
Dark corners of the room.
On the glass.
On the television screen.
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The walls pulsed with voiceless whispers–
Terrifyingly quiet.
Beyond the keyhole–
Arms overlapping.
A smell of lavender perfume–too familiar.
Two shadows–
Close to her in age.
Too familial.
Clear– in her mind.
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Marilyn bounced a step back from the keyhole, a wrench around her mind.
The familiar, familial shadows.
The lavender perfume she knew too well.
The arms wrapping. Too close.
The scenes replayed in a mental tape recorder–
Gone awry.
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Marylin’s hand hovered above the doorknob–
But didn’t turn it.
Her finger stayed in place.
Numb.
Should she?
The family.
Her eye caught a photograph of them on the wall.
All smiles at her 6th-year birthday party.
The glass was cracked.
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The room felt–
Smaller.
Cramped.
Beyond the keyhole–
The familiar shadows still moved, too close.
The whispering of the walls grew louder.
Her mind swiveled–
To open the door,
Not.
A dark heaviness descended on her shoulders.
Her heart throbbed, an erratic rhythm.
Figures in the photograph she knew–
And loved.
This.
Her fingers wrapped around the door knob–
But couldn’t pull.
Cold sweat dripped down her fingers.
She had seen too much.
Ready–
To snap.
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The teenager couldn’t move.
She stood still, unable to speak.
Beyond the keyhole, the shadows diminished.
Finally.
But not in her mind.
The smell of the familiar perfume lingered in the air–
The scent too cloying.
The imprint remained.
Covered in mental dust.
A stain that wouldn’t vanish no matter how much remover she used.
Never entirely swept away.
The print wrapped itself around her mind–
When it stopped to see.
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Marilyn visited the house years later-
In her litigator’s capacity.
Her father had bequeathed it to her.
He felt he owed it.
A debt he could never repay in full.
The other familiar figure–
Too present.
At get-togethers. Family events.
Always kind.
Offering hugs and love.
Even support when she needed it.
But never comfort.
She had seen too much–
Through that keyhole–
But thankfully–
Didn’t snap.
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Original keyhole mystery by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.
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