Today’s daily prompt: Golden Key
You’ve been given a key that can open one building, room, locker, or box to which you don’t normally have access. How do you use it, and why?
Personally, I have a hard time answering this prompt because I don’t feel like a golden key will help me in any special way. I don’t have any desires to look at secret documents or take things.
However, it would be very cool to get a key to the Walt Disney Animation Studio in California! Providing that I can somehow get to California and that people will let me explore and watch them work (“Let’s be friends!”), I think it would be an awesome experience. Big Hero 6! Frozen! Disney Fairies! Wreck-it-Ralph! Tangled! Wheee! Oh, and then please hire me.
My short story series, inspired by NaNoWriMo/NaBloPoMo and the daily prompt.
“Have a safe trip!”
It was Father and Mother’s twentieth anniversary. Mother got to go on that cruise she wanted and Connor got to be home alone for the weekend.
No need to ask: yes, he was holding a party.
The timing was perfect; it would be the kick-off party of senior year. Connor’s house was big, so he can fit at least twenty or thirty people in the basement lounge and another twenty people in his living room and kitchen. Of course, people would bring their boyfriends or girlfriends so Connor accounted for extra plus ones, but if he opened the doors to his backyard patio, there would be more than enough space. The entire graduating class would be able to fit easily.
But just to be safe, Connor decided to lock the door to Father’s office.
The only reason Father even gave him the golden key was simply because his bookkeeper, a tiny man by the name of Adam, was supposed to pick up a stack of documents on Sunday morning. If it weren’t for that reason, Connor probably would never have gotten permission to even look at the key until he was married and had a business of his own.
Father’s office smelled like mint and cologne. It was adorned with mahogany furniture and lined with walls of bookshelves. Connor plopped himself down on Father’s leather chair and spun around, feeling like a child. His desk was spotless clean, except for the red folder of documents for Adam. Connor peeked inside and saw lots of numbers about revenues and expenses. Boring.
He fiddled with the cabinets. Most of them were locked; Father must’ve had a separate key.
For a second, Connor wondered what it was that Father did. He knew Father worked for a law firm, but Father never really told him specifically what he did. Father only said that it would be a breach to his agreement with the client if he were to discuss his job. Over time, Connor gave up asking.
Connor stopped spinning and his eyes landed nonchalantly on another stack of paper in the corner of the room. He walked towards it, thinking it would be best to leave it on Father’s desk. When he finally got his hands on the papers, he realized it was a manuscript.
Connor did a double take on the stack of papers in his hand. There were at least five hundred pages. Did Samantha write it all?
Why the hell was it in Father’s office?
Connor’s mind snapped him back to the time Samantha came over for dinner and Father was persistent on reading her drafts.
That incident was over a year ago. Since then, he and Samantha had been spending their mornings in the library studying or chatting. Bit by bit, Connor and Samantha forged an unlikely friendship. They weren’t the closest of friends but at the very least, Connor saw her as a friend nonetheless. He even invited her to his party today (which she declined politely). Bradley and Avery were cool with Samantha joining them for lunch (which she also declined politely). They would acknowledge each other in the halls, so wouldn’t this be something worth mentioning?
Connor had stopped spinning his chair but he still felt dizzy. Did she know Father had a copy of her manuscript sitting in his office?
A little voice told him that of course she knew. Nobody writes a manuscript just for fun. They write it with a purpose to get it published.
Father was going to get her story published.
To be continued…