Keys

The metal felt cool in her hand
The rusted metal scratching against her skin
Did she have her tetanus shot?
Probably not

The key was a dark gray
The head was ornate and decorated with curls
It was old, she could tell
It was thin enough to snap

The lock in front of her looked inviting
The key also seemed to be drawn to its stationary counterpart
So she stepped forward
Scratch, click

The lock scratched against the key
The key clicked into the lock
She turned the key, unlocking the door and pulled the door open
A scream echoed around the room