The Glass Key: A Modern Folktale Read online

the shoulder. “You should help yourself,” I said, “instead of festering in self-pity! Look, the door’s open— I’ve released you! Go, while you have the chance.”

  ‘“What, go and make amends?” he sneered. “Confess my sin and ask to be forgiven? I haven’t asked that of you, and I won’t of him, either.”

  ‘I shook my head with a smile. “You’ve already meddled enough. Consider yourself quite free of me— as free as you should have been all along.”

  ‘He turned and peered into my face, as if doubtful of my sincerity; and then, with an eager expression, he nodded towards the open door.

  ‘“Yes, off you go,” I encouraged him.

  ‘Slowly, with rising hope, he shuffled to his feet again, and with a shrug straightened his clothes. Then, approaching the door, he grasped the handle and rattled it— the latch, having been fixed to lock for who knows how long, was stiff, and inclined to jam. He gave me a sly smirk.

  ‘“Let’s see how you like it,” he jeered, and suddenly jumped through, slamming the door shut behind him.

  ‘I tried to unclose it, but it was stuck fast— as he no doubt intended. Nevertheless I was relieved to be rid of him, and have him rid of me; so I took a deep breath, slid the glass key into the lock, and passed smoothly through.’

  Araminta stopped; but this time, Sam did not interject— he merely sat and studied her face in the flickering firelight. Her eyes were bright, almost gleaming, but the lids drooped heavily again and again; and the panting had subsided into a great weariness, which she only seemed to battle by continuing her tale. Sometimes she shivered, in spite of the hearth’s heat, but even these spells of chill she combated with an effort, and generally conquered.

  ‘Now we’re coming to it,’ she whispered, and then, clearing her throat, repeated the words in a louder voice. ‘The encounter with that man left me feeling gloomy, but when I emerged through the next door into the open air, my heart bounded up, believing this must be the Bastions of the North at last— but I soon realised I was merely on the roof of an enormous, glazed skyscraper, under a broad, grey dusk. My heart sank again— doubly so, for the thwarted thrill— and I almost despaired. What was the use of a key to the whole world, if I couldn’t tell where in the world to go? I might try an infinity of keyholes, and never find the Bastions of the North; and even if that place existed, and I got there, what would be the use of it? What would there be but another door, leading to another, and another? Oh, it was hopeless— for ten years I’d roamed and roamed, and I was still as lost as at first.

  ‘I held up the key to the light, and examined it: my entire life was bound up with that little, clear, fragile thing— but since my life had become meaningless, surely that rendered the key meaningless too? With this idea I walked over to the parapet, and stared down the many storeys to the pavement far below. The city stretched out on each side, and people hurried about their business wherever my eye fell, regardless of my existence. I might as well throw myself over the edge as carry on— it seemed to me then that to be dead or alive were equally void of hope. But of course, it was pursuing the chance openings of the key that had brought me to this— without that, I might be myself again, and as before. So, with a desperate resolution, I flung the wretched thing into the air— it sparkled as it dropped, and vanished towards the ground.

  ‘I wished it would shatter and be gone— I would rather be a vagabond in one place, than a slave to every place in the world. But my wish wasn’t granted. The key hit the pavement, too far below to discern— and when it did, the earth shook— the concrete split, the road bucked, the tower-blocks leapt— there was a tremendous roar, and I could see cars and people flung and scattered in the street. I watched, terrified, as the jolt of the impact splintered the great glass walls of that tower on which I stood, from top to bottom, and sent them shivering down in giant lances to smash to powder.

  ‘It was appalling— and apparently all my doing! Frightened office workers started pouring out of buildings, and I made to join them, in case the structure of the place should collapse. I nipped in through the roof-access door, and followed the swarming crowds down the fire-escape stairs, dreading the scenes of bloodshed and injury I’d find when I got outside. But to my amazement, on gaining the street, I found that there were no casualties— everyone, miraculously, had survived the showers of glass unscathed, and were now gabbling amongst themselves in joy at their luck.

  ‘The road was deeply rutted, and broken into floes and chunks of rubble, and a particularly deep crack was taken to be the epicentre of the quake (as all assumed it to have been). I looked into this crevasse, and there, lying intact and unscathed in the pit of it, was my glass key.’

  She prompted Sam with an expression of encouragement. ‘You must have heard of that earthquake? You must have heard how no-one was hurt, in spite of its severity?’

  He had heard something of the kind on the radio; but that was no evidence to make Araminta’s version any more creditable— that she had caused all the damage, with this innocuous bit of cut glass, lying on the table in his living room.

  ‘This entire—’ he began, searching for words— ‘this— story— it’s getting more and more ridiculous.’

  ‘Well, wait,’ she replied quietly, in a tone somewhere between those close margins of desperation and hopelessness, as she pulled her coat more tightly about her sides. ‘I won’t keep you long. This is the key to the key, as it were.

  ‘I reached into that ravine, and took out what I’d thrown down. Since I couldn’t lose it, I had to retrieve it, in case anyone else should, and be trapped by it in the same way. The bystanders thought I was mad to crawl down there, and tried to prevent me; but I paid no attention, and picked it up. There was not so much as a scratch on the key.

  ‘Then, all I had to do was find the nearest tumbled car, unlock it, and clamber in. And— this was earlier, you realise, hours ago— I clambered out again from under a rock, to find myself in an immense, deserted plain. The sun had just set, but already the sky was heavy with stars— large and brilliant, and clear. They lit the terrain so well that I could distinguish stretches of loose stones for miles and miles in every direction, with patches of snow, and a gleam of frost over everything. Before me was a flattish swathe of scree, like a path, that led steadily uphill, steeper and steeper— and, Sam, I was ready to weep at the sight— there were no more doors. Not one, in the whole expanse— it was empty. I’d found it at last.

  ‘It was wonderful— that freezing wilderness seemed the most beautiful place I’d ever seen, in all my exile. I knew I must go as high as I could, and so, full of excitement and vigour, I hurried up the incline towards the peak. The distance was further than it appeared, and the path was difficult to negotiate— the stones were loose, and the ice treacherous— but you may be sure I persevered. Even when I came to high crags and sharp, impending rocks, I refused to falter— really, my excitement rose with every footstep. I had no idea what I would find at the top, but it was spurring enough to know that I was meant to come here, that I had actually reached somewhere I intended to go. So up and up I climbed, for who knows how long— it felt like an age— until I finally stepped onto a sort of plateau, which was as far as I could get, because ahead was a sheer cliff soaring straight into the air. Besides, I knew I’d reached the end— the bitter end, as they call it, and it was bitter enough for me. What do you think I found? What had I come all that way for? —What else? Immediately before me, set into that wall of granite— a door.

  ‘I dropped to the ground, utterly defeated. I could only lie there, and gape at it, despairing— a door. Of course a door— I was cursed with doors! My body grew numb; my mind was hollow, and reverberated with that one image, that door, that hopeless, damning, door! I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t.

  ‘And then, I heard a voice say my name. The voice seemed very close to my ear, and yet somehow gigantic, too, as though it echoed through the vaults of space above me. With a wretched effort, I dragged my gaze up, and looke
d into the sky— and there I saw the constellation of Orion, extremely near, and almost blindingly vivid. For the first time, I discerned how the position of the stars comprised him: the band of his belt, the angle of his sword, each outstretched hand, each stepping limb— he was so clear, that I could actually see him— and as soon as I saw that, I could see that he saw me, and was leaning over me, frowning.

  ‘“Stand up, Araminta,” he told me. “If you’re weary of travelling, you must blame yourself. I’ve always been here, waiting for you— and you could have come to me at any time.”

  ‘“I couldn’t,” I murmured in reply, still unable to move.

  ‘“You wouldn’t!” he returned, angrily. “You spurned me— you turned from me again and again! Why are you cruel? I blaze for you, Araminta! I bound through the night to find you, and plunge into the sea to drown my dreams of you in the morning! I open up the heavens to you, Araminta, and beckon you to join me— but always, always you look aside! Haven’t I loved you from the first? From your very conception you were born in my heart, and grew there— haven’t I cherished you ever since? Haven’t I watched over you? Wasn’t I the only one who cared for you when you lost everyone else, when you were hardly able to walk, but left to walk alone— didn’t I guide your tiny steps, and light your way in the dark? Araminta, won’t you let me guide you again? Won’t you take my hand, and let me bear you up?”

  ‘I raised myself on my own hands, and rallied my strength. “I’ve never wilfully turned away,” I protested. “In fact, I’ve been searching for you— but I’ve had no choice where to go.”

  ‘“Searching for me!” he growled. “You could have found me from the first, or at any time since— but you chose to go on searching. I know that well enough! Araminta! You make me furious when I think on all my love for you, and how you let it burn to nothing!”

  ‘“Perhaps it’s time I was furious,” I turned on him, finally getting to my feet. “I haven’t come here to be seduced, or scolded— I came to find my way home, and I was told you know the answer. If you do, tell it to me— if not, leave me here. I’m tired of this latchkey-life, and if you won’t help me, I’d rather lose that life in this nowhere and be done.”

  ‘“I already said that the life you’ve led is your own fault,” he replied. “The glass key brought you directly to me, as I intended it would— but you wanted to go another way— you would never be still— you must always search and search for the one thing that can’t be found anywhere in this world.”

  ‘“What one thing do you mean? Why can’t I find it?”

  ‘“There! Still hunting! But Araminta, I saved you from it— come and be with me now.”

  ‘“What did you save me from?” I insisted. “Did you make all this happen? Did you snatch me from my own self, and spirit me away? Did you make this infernal key?” I pulled it out and held it up to him, in defiance; and he regarded it moodily.

  ‘“My sufferings have been greater than yours,” he reflected, with vehement emphasis. “I was forced to watch, helplessly, as you grew up to disregard me, and that was painful in itself; but it wasn’t really pain— oh, no. It was a nip, a sting, to what I felt when you met a man, a mortal scrap, and gave your heart to him. Then it was agony— it was maddening! But what could I do? I was a faded, glimmering shower of sparks to you— my anguish was a nonsense. But I loved you in spite of it, Araminta, and on that night when he took the precious heart you’d given him, and ripped it open— on that miserable night when