I always loved the flea market in my city.
It wasn’t because I needed anything; it was just nice to go there with a friend. We’d have a look around at all the things available, have a beer or two and enjoy the weather.
The best time to go was during the summer. The place was packed with people and merchants selling all sorts of things. You could find vintage LPs, old classical books, and a lot of strange memorabilia. It was a treasure trove.
Whenever I went, I was always on the lookout for weird things, things with a certain character. I’d bought strange figurines, weird books, old postcards or photographs, and many other similar things.
The last time I went there was half a year ago, and it was a visit that changed my life forever.
While my friend Martin, an avid collector, had a look at a stall selling old DVDs and CDs, I checked out the other stalls nearby. It wasn’t long before I noticed an old woman who’d propped up a little camping table. On it, she’d placed about two dozen keys.
How weird was that, something selling keys? I walked up to have a look almost instantly.
Most of the keys were old and rusty, but a few were strangely ornate, made of gold or other expensive materials.
While I studied them, my friend walked up to me. His eyes went to the table in front of me before he laughed.
“Who the hell’s going to buy a random key?” he asked.
“Oh, they are not random. They are special keys for special places,” the woman behind the table answered.
“Yeah, sure, whatever.”
With that, he walked off.
“Where are they from? Like those over there, they look really old,” I asked, pointing at one of the more rusty ones.
The woman leaned forward and explained.
“Well, those you just pointed at are from old buildings, houses that are long gone. Those over there,” she pointed at the more ornate ones, “are from old castles and forts. They were used to open certain hidden doors.”
My interest was piqued instantly. I don’t know why, but owning a key that used to open a secret door in a castle sounded amazing.
For a while, I had a look at all the old, ornate keys before I picked up one that seemed to be made of bronze. Its design was beautiful but strange, sprouting various little twirls and engravings that seemed almost too perfect, too deliberate.
“How much for that one?”
“Dude, are you really going to buy some stupid old key? What do you even want with it?”
I sighed. Martin was back to annoy me.
“I don’t know. It looks cool.”
The woman had lifted the key and was gazing at it.
“Now, young man, you’ve picked a very special one,” she said after a while.
I couldn’t help but laugh inwardly. I was sure she was going to tell me some long elaborate story about how it used to be the key to Ludwig XIV’s personal sex-dungeon in the depths of Versailles.
To my surprise, she told me no such story. Instead, she simply nodded.
“It’s yours for two euros,” she finally said.
“He takes it for one!” Martin, who loved to barter, cut in.
The woman eyed him for a second before she nodded.
“Well, for one then.”
I handed her one euro, and she handed me the key.
“You see, man, that’s how you barter. You always have to barter at the flea market.”
I sighed once more. Martin always went a bit overboard at the flea market. More than once he’d gotten into an argument over a price or walked off when a merchant wasn’t willing to chaff off another euro.
While he rambled on, I looked at the key once more. It sure looked special, with all the little twirls and embellishments.
We were at the flea market for another hour before we made our way home. It was two in the afternoon, but because of the summer heat, I was pretty exhausted.
The moment I’d made it back to my apartment, I took a nap. I slept almost all afternoon and only got back up in the early evening.
The first thing I did was to go through my backpack and sort through my newest treasures.
I’d gotten a strange picture book depicting the works of M. C. Escher, and other similar artists, a framed postcard depicting a surreal motif, and finally the ornate bronze key.
I eyed it for a bit and couldn’t help but laugh. You could find the weirdest things at the flea market.
I put away the book, hung up the framed postcard, and eventually connected the key to a chain and let it dangle from a small nail in the wall.
I considered going out to meet friends, but after spending a good part of the day at the flea market, I didn’t feel like it. Instead, I found a movie on Netflix and prepared myself for a slow, relaxing evening.
When I returned from the toilet at some point, my eyes wandered back to the strange key. The design. Why was it so strange? All those little twirls and embellishments. How’d this thing ever fit anywhere?
For a while longer, I sat there, turning it over in my hands before I got an idea. I walked up to my small storage room and pushed it into the lock.
“Huh, it actually fits,” I brought out in surprise.
Almost without thinking, I tried turning it, and realized I could. The lock clicked, then clicked again before the door sprang open.
I got a hold of the handle to close it again, but when I stared through the crack, I didn’t see my storage room, and the haphazardly stored boxes. Instead, I stared at an entirely different room. I pushed the door open a bit more, and my eyes grew wide. An icy shiver went down my spine, and my breath caught in my throat. What I saw was a much bigger, much wider space than my small storage room, or any other in my apartment.
I instantly threw the door shut. When I opened it again, the world was normal, and all I saw was a small room filled with boxes.
It had been nothing but the trick of the eye, I told myself, an optical illusion.
And yet, as I held the strange, twisted key in my hands, I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. It had been too vivid, too real.
‘You’re picked a very special one,’ the old saleswoman had said.
Almost in a trance, and with shaking hands, I pushed the key back into the lock. Once more, I turned it and the lock clicked once, twice, and the door opened again.
This time, I didn’t throw it shut right away, but peaked inside carefully. What I saw was some sort of grand hall. I saw a rich hardwood table, surrounded by hardwood chairs. The walls were clad in fine wood and sprouted ornate paintings. A huge, expensive carpet covered the floor. From where I was, I could see various gold figurines positioned on a small cupboard that stood against one wall.
What the hell? How could this room be here? This was supposed to be my storage room!
Then I thought back to what the old woman had said once more. Some of those keys used to open hidden rooms in old castles and forts.
So this was… some sort of hidden room in an old castle?
I couldn’t help but laugh. This was silly. No, this was insane.
Yet the room was right there, right in front of me. I could step inside if I wanted to.
The moment the thought crossed my mind, a strange sense of curiosity came over me. Could I really just… enter?
My eyes wandered back to the golden figurines on the cupboard.
For a few moments, I was unsure and wondered if this was some sort of trick. Maybe whatever this was, was trying to lure me in. I carefully took off one of my slippers, picked it up, and pushed it forward, past the door’s threshold.
I don’t know what I expected to happen, but nothing did.
With that, I dropped the slipper and put it back on before I reached out with my hand. Nothing. My hand continued on, touching nothing but air. There was no sensation or anything. This room was really here.
Once more, my eyes wandered to the cupboard and the riches on top of it.
Leaving the door open, I got a hold of a chair from the living room. Then I propped it against the door to keep it from falling shut.
Excitement washed over me as I pushed my foot forward and brought it down on the rich carpet. The air in the grand hall was thick and musty, carrying a faint, distant scent of incense, as if it belonged to a long-forgotten era.
My heart was pounding in my chest, and I could feel the blood rushing through my veins. My eyes darted left and right, expecting a door to burst open or someone storming at me.
When nothing happened, I hurried over to the cupboard. At first, I only looked at the gold figurines before I reached out for them. They felt real enough.
Once more, I hesitated, and once more my eyes darted around. Was someone there, watching me, waiting for me to steal them? With each passing second, I grew more restless, shaky, close to panicking. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I picked up the first one, then another, and finally an ornate, golden candle holder.
A few seconds later, I was back in my apartment. I stood there on shaky legs, panting, and my heart still pounding. I couldn’t believe any of this. Once again, I stared back into the grand hall before I threw the door shut in fear of repercussions.
I turned the key twice more and was happier than ever before to find only my old, dusty storage room.
A sigh of relief escaped me, and I quickly put the strange, multi-dimensional key back on its little nail.
For a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if it had all been a dream, a flight of fancy conjured by reading too many fantasy novels. When I turned from the door, however, I noticed the gold figurines and the candle holder.
Almost by instinct, I picked them up and took them with me to the living room.
At first, I could only stare at them, wondering once more how any of this could be real. Then I realized what I’d done. I’d stolen them, taken something I wasn’t supposed to. For a second I couldn’t help but feel watched before I laughed and called myself silly. No one else was here, and no one else had seen it.
I began studying the figurines’ design and the intricate engravings on them. When I tested their weight, a grin appeared on my face. They seemed to be made of solid gold, and I was sure they had to be worth something.
At first, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t very well put them on eBay if I had no clue what they might be worth. No, I probably had to take them to an antique store.
For the next few evenings, I busied myself on the internet, reading up on historical figurines, their worth, and searched for a reputable store.
A few days later, I put the figurines and the candleholder in a box and went on my trip.
The antique dealer’s eyes lingered on the ornate carvings on the figurines for a moment too long, his fingers tracing their details. I could tell he was more than impressed, though when he spoke, his tone was carefully neutral, studied, even, to hide his excitement. He said they were centuries old, but not shoddy or cheaply made. When he asked how I’d come by them, I told him an elaborate story about my grandfather having been an avid collector of old items. I explained how I’d stumbled upon them by accident while cleaning his attic and thought they might be worth something.
The man eyed me for a moment, and I could tell he wondered about the authenticity of my story. Soon enough, his own greed pushed these doubts aside. He was quick to make an offer, one that was pretty good, but I’d also done my research.
I told him I’d looked at other stores online, and similar items went for much higher prices. His eyebrows went up when he heard my words. Then, frowning, he pretended to give the figurines and the candleholder a closer look. Finally, he gave me another, higher offer.
I was sure he was still ripping me off, but the four-figure numbers he gave me were too good to pass for someone like me. And so, I sold. Before I could leave, the man smiled at me, and told me if I found any other valuables amongst my grandfather’s collection, I should pay him a visit. He’d be more than happy to have a look at them.
I told him I’d see what I could find.
It is often said that money poisons people, and after my experiences in those past months, I wholeheartedly agree. The moment I had sold those figurines and that candleholder, the moment I’d tasted riches, I knew I’d open that door again.
When I was back inside my apartment, I reached out for the key right away. I turned it once, then twice, and when the door opened, I pushed the little box I was still holding between door and doorframe and ventured inside. My eyes darted left and right, back and forth, but not in search of danger, but of anything valuable.
I saw the paintings, some silverware, and an ornate dagger I hadn’t noticed before.
In a single swift motion, got a hold of the dagger and as much of the silverware as I could carry and dumped it back in the hallway. A few minutes later, I’d taken down all the paintings. I stared back, and for a moment, I even considered taking the rich hardwood chairs. Then I told myself this was enough for today. I’d have to sell the items first, anyway.
I soon found another reputable seller. The silverware turned out to net me a good price, and so did two of the paintings. The dagger, to my surprise, turned out to be the most valuable of all times I’d plundered so far, its hilt encrusted by an array of costly gemstones.
I couldn’t help but grin on my way home. This was crazy. I was freaking rich!
The third time I ventured into the grand hall, I found little of value left. I found a few smaller silver items I’d not taken before, and an ornate vase at the end of the hall, but that was about it.
Once I had closed the door again, I couldn’t help but frown at my measly yield. Maybe I should take some of those chairs after all.
Before I did, I wondered what else the key could do.
After a few, as I told myself, necessary purchases, I knew the money I’d gotten wouldn’t last. I guess the more you have, the easier it is to spend it.
The first thing I tried was my kitchen door. Once again, the key was a perfect fit. I turned it once, twice, and when it sprang open, I expected to find the same grand hall. Instead, I was greeted by what one could only call a small study. I couldn’t help but grin at the valuables I saw. There was an ornate oil lamp, a globe, and various other richly decorated items.
It didn’t take me long to plunder the room for everything it was worth. After that, I tried the key on my bedroom door. This time, it led me to a dark, musty room, most likely a cellar.
I cursed in frustration and threw the door shut again. Even after two more tries, the door never led to a different room.
I realized I’d just learned a valuable piece of information. This key could open doors to rooms in a different place and time, but a single door could only ever lead to one specific room.
Over the course of the evening, I tried all the doors in my small apartment. While some led to other dark, empty rooms, I discovered that my bathroom door led to a dressing room stacked with rich jewelry.
And yet, even with my living room table covered by rich, antique goods, I wanted more.
It wasn’t long before I resorted to using different doors. The first ones I opened were the doors in my apartment building’s basement. One night, at three in the morning, I descended and tried every single door I could find.
While some of these doors led to more valuables, others led me to different rooms, rooms similar to that old, musty cellar my bedroom door had led to. Others were stranger, creepy even.
One door opened to nothing but oppressive darkness. It wafted outside, in thick, heavy swaths, assaulting me with the heavy smell of rot, and something sharper, otherworldly. I froze when the outlines of some grotesque shadow stirred in the back. For a second, a pair of barely visible eyes came to rest on me.
In shock, I threw the door shut and stumbled back, my heart pounding in my chest. What the hell had I just stumbled upon!? Then I shook my head. No, this couldn’t have been real. I must’ve imagined it. And yet, as much as I told myself so, the image lingered in my mind.
At this point, I should’ve called it quits, but, of course, I didn’t. After all, only a single door could ever open to one specific room, right?
And so, only a few days later, all signs of danger and any fear of repercussions were forgotten. No, I told myself, even if I noticed something strange again, I could just throw the door and that was it.
Before long, I increased the scale of my operations. It wasn’t so much in terms of sales, but in terms of doors. I couldn’t just go around opening random doors. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed.
Airbnbs were the perfect solution. I could just rent them, and spent the night exploring each one of their doors with no danger of being discovered or seen.
Slowly but steadily, my stock of values increased, and before long, I had boxes upon boxes of untold riches in my small apartment. I was still careful in selling them. I never went to the same store twice, never sold more than a few select items, and always came prepared with a story.
Even though I was making more and more money, filled box upon box, my greed only increased. I wouldn’t stop. No, I had dreams and plans I’d already mapped out in my mind.
While Airbnbs allowed me to partake in my activities undisturbed and without fear of being discovered, there were only ever a few select doors available. It felt like I was wasting time, especially after I’d gotten unlucky two times in a row, when I ended up finding no valuables.
No, I needed more locations, more doors, and before long, I found exactly what I’d been looking for.
My city has a long and complicated history. Remnants of old companies can be found everywhere. Entire factory complexes and old office buildings lay rotten and abandoned on its outskirts.
Sure, they had been stripped of all valuables, but those were of no interest to me. What I was looking for were doors, as many as I could find. While some had been broken down, others were still standing, entire corridors of them.
Soon, I spent entire days and nights traversing these old abandoned complexes, mapping them out and hunting for doors and the riches behind them.
Yet the more doors I opened, the more often they led to different rooms.
More than once, I found musty basements and old attics. At one point, I even found myself in what had to be a torture chamber. The smell of blood and other body fluids hung heavy in the air. When I retched and covered my mouth, the rattling of chains and a quiet, broken shriek reached me.
At another time, I pushed open the door, only to be greeted by a small, otherworldly study. It was only alight by a few bluish candles, but even in this little light, I noticed its dimensions were wrong, warped. Yet it was the old man behind the desk my eyes focused on. When he saw me, he smiled and bade me to enter.
I didn’t move, for as I stared at him, I noticed certain peculiarities. His body was hidden under thick, heavy robes that seemed much too big, and he wore a pair of spectacles with no discernable eyes behind them. When he opened his mouth, I saw thick misshapen teeth that differed from any I’d seen before. His voice, too, seemed wrong, was almost too human, studied.
For a long second, he just sat there, smiling at me. Then, growling, and in one motion, he pushed himself off his chair and straight in my direction. His movements were animalistic, as if what was hidden below the robes was anything but human. I screamed in shock, threw the doors shut, and locked it.
I stumbled back, shaken and scared. What the hell was that? That man or… thing?
I told myself enough was enough. This was getting dangerous. What if I encountered something even worse?
I wondered why I kept going. Hadn’t I already gathered enough money? If I sold everything I’d plundered, I’d be set for life. Yet it felt like I wasn’t myself anymore. What started as the thrill of discovery, of the forbidden, and making a profit, had grown into something darker. In the past weeks, even months, I couldn’t stop. Whenever I emptied one room, I was already dreaming of the next, hoping for even greater treasures.
How long had it been since I’d met up with friends, or spent an evening relaxing? Had I done anything with the money I’d made? No, it didn’t matter. All cared about was getting more.
And yet, the next day, driven by an almost subconscious need, I was on my way to yet another complex. My mind was consumed by money, tainted by it, and I felt it clawing at my every thought.
After I’d pocketed another few handfuls of rich jewelry, I’d already forgotten about the man-thing I’d encountered.
The next door, however, changed everything.
As so often, I found a door at the end of a hallway. I turned the key twice and waited for the door to unlock. Then I carefully pushed it open.
An icy shiver went down my spine when I saw only darkness, darkness that wafted outside in thick swaths. The strangest sense of Déjà vu washed over me, when I was assaulted by the smell of rot and something sharper, otherworldly. I’d seen this before, hadn’t I, but how…?
Before I could finish the thought, a face pushed itself from the darkness and came to a rest mere inches in front of me. It was female, but it was all wrong, strangely elongated, and covered in thick greasy hair. The moment I saw it, I cringed back in shock. The same eyes, the same eyes I’d seen last time.
It opened its mouth, but at first only garbled, incomprehensive noises escaped its mouth, as if it was testing its voice. Yet with every second, it got closer to normal speech, and finally, I could make out its words.
“Mmm-yy… ah… I’ve beeennn wa-ndering whennn you’d… be back,” it brought out in a high-pitched, shriek voice that stabbed at my ears.
Every fiber of my body screamed at me to run, to get away, and I rushed forward to close the door, to shut it in front of whatever that thing was.
I clung to the old, half-rotten door, but before I could do anything, two giant, ghastly hands pushed themselves between the door and doorframe. With a single swift motion, the door was torn from my hands, and then the doorframe.
The face started giggling before it vanished into the darkness again. And yet, I’d never seen a body, and when my eyes finally got used to the darkness, I realized why. That face, that head, it was connected to an elongated neck.
Behind it, in the darkness, I saw the same grotesque shape, but now I could make it out for the giant, terrible abomination it was. I saw more faces, more mouths, more eyes, all connected to a single, bloated body, sprouting hundreds of arms and legs.
To the side of the creature, I noticed another door, and then another.
And as the giggling grew louder, as I heard it from an uncountable number of mouths, I understood my mistake.
A single door can never open to more than one specific room. But if a room has more than one door… Oh god, how’d I not thought of that? This creature knew, and it had waited for me, just to make this single mistake.
When the disgusting creature rose, I stumbled backward. Wet squelching sounds reached my ear, the sound of skin tearing, of flesh stretching.
As I dashed away and rushed down the hallway in sheer and utter terror, I heard the doorframe give way as the creature pulled itself through.
I only turned back once, only once. I saw dozens of heads on elongated necks, saw a disgustingly bloated body covered in thick slime, and patches of long hair. It moved in jerks, dragged itself forward on a multitude of hands and feet like some abominable centipede.
Then I ran. I ran and fled from the industrial complex as fast as I could.
Finally, as the creature escaped from whatever twisted dimension it had been trapped in, the entire building collapsed, leaving nothing but rubble behind.
For a few moments, I stared at the mess, hoping the creature was gone, and crushed below the rubble.
The next day, the massive destruction I’d caused was on the news, but I heard nothing about the ghastly creature I’d encountered.
When people started to go missing, I knew why. I don’t know what that creature is, and I don’t know how it stays hidden, but I know it’s because of my greed that it was unleashed on this world.
As I sit here, I can only stare at the key hanging on my wall, mocking me. I thought of taking it down, of hiding it or throwing it away, but the moment I touch it, I’ll fall right back into the same trap, the same obsession.
What then? What other horrors would I unleash? How many more people would have to die?
As I sit here, I finally realize that it’s nothing but human nature that drove me that far, drove me to do all this.
And I know, those things, those creatures out there, they just wait, they wait for us and what we’re willing to do, and for our nature to become our downfall.
