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The Skeleton Key by Dave Strain December 27, 2006 When I was going to a little college in Portland Oregon up on 91st and Burnside a few years back I decided to rent a house off campus and then rent out a couple rooms to college buddies, so I sold my car back home in Southern California and went house shopping. The real estate market was slow at the time so I found a great two story house not too far from the school and the landlord was willing to let me move in right away. The place had some modest furnishings, which the old guy said I could keep or he would have them hauled away in a day or two. I kept them and doubled the furniture I owned in one fell swoop! This was my lucky day. Being that this was the first place I could call my own, I was excited and decided to move in right away. That day I hauled over all my college furniture! My cinder block coffee table, Old funky lamp with a really funky shade, etc. as well as a few personal items I needed for the night. My new landlord Mr. Jameson, a nice old guy in his seventies told me he only had his one key for the place, but he'd bring one by for me in the morning if that'd be okay. After moving in and doing a little "Hey! I have my own place" dancing around I invited my girlfriend and some college chums over for a celebratory dinner / party. I was so tired from moving all of my stuff plus rearranging the existing furniture (you can't put just any old sofa in front of a classic telephone company cable spool table) I went to my room before the party was quite over and I crashed! My slumber was fitful at best and even though I had a couple of drinks earlier I woke up several times thinking there was someone else in the room. I was so frightened that I was immediately sober and I almost left and went back to my dorm but instead I looked in all the corners and around each door, silently cursing myself for being such a baby and tried to return to sleep. The night passed in that restless unease you have when you can?t quite tell what you are seeing in that shadow. Eventually I fell back to sleep. When I awoke the next morning tired and a bit sore from the tossing and turning, I dressed and had started for the door when I noticed a single key on my dresser that I did not recognize. I was certain it hadn?t been there the night before so the key puzzled me for a few minutes until I figured out that the old guy must have let himself in early that morning and came in to my room to put it there. This really got me angry! You can't just waltz into your renter's house especially his bedroom unannounced. Or even announced as far as I was concerned. When I got downstairs I tried the key in the front door and sure enough it was the house key. As I was starting down the front steps on my way to school I almost ran into my elderly landlord and before I could start in on him for what I felt was trespassing he produced a shiny new key from his pocket, smiling and saying "I bet you thought I forgot about you," I was confused and I said nothing as I produced a matching key from my pocket "Where'd you get that?," he asked a bit nervously. Not knowing what to say my brain quickly rationalized the only other possibility, "The last tenant dropped it off," I replied. Mr. Jameson turned as white as a sheet and asked me to repeat myself. "The last tenant must've come by and dropped it off," I said a bit unsurely. "That can't be!" the old man said, "I was at his funeral just last week and his effects are still at the funeral home, I just haven't had the heart to go by and pick them up." Now it was my turn to turn white, "But this key?" I said in a hushed tone as I instinctively handed it to him to examine, he matched them together then quickly turned it over obviously looking for something. "It's his alright," Mr. Jameson, said as he held out the key, "I had it made for him at the same shop as my other keys, see the stamp right here!" the key had the name of a locksmith downtown punched into it. I refused to take the brass thing from the old man and told him I wouldn't be needing it, waving it off as though it might attack me. I could see that Mr. Jameson understood and that he equally didn?t want the key. I spent the rest of the day getting moved out, not telling my friends why just and with each trip inside the house I became more sure that I was being watched. the last few things I just hauled out on the lawn in the rain so I would be out before it got dark. And I tried not to look at the house while I waited for my friends to come back with the truck for the last load. I knew that if I looked back I would see the last tenant standing in the window grinning a toothless grin back at me. It was a Stephen King novel come to life. Epilogue: At a get together a few weeks later a friend of mine asked me how everything was going at the new house. I told him it didn't work out. He said, "That's too bad! it was a neat house, I did a lot of work on it for the guy who lived there before he passed away, Oh and by the way did you find the key I left for you on your dresser? It was for the front door." We are no longer friends. About the author: I am a photographer and artist trapped in the body of an I.T. support person. I currently live in Simi Valley, CA but get back to Oregon as often as I can. I thought this story would be perfect right around Halloween. | | | |
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