What can YOU say in six sentences?
When she opened her eyes Bree found a tarnished key on her pillow which asked in an ancient voice, "What is ease?" The key stayed in her apron pocket as she vacuumed the floor of her soulful house and admired the things she made or worked for, but the question still pulsed as the vacuum dug patterns of castle towers in the carpet.
She stopped vacuuming, walked to the mailbox and slid a letter she couldn't remember writing into the hinged underbite. She saw a keyhole where there shouldn't be one and curious, inserted the tarnished key which made a disturbing hissssss. A door opened and out poured ghostly fog and a woman in a long dress of neon green sequins whose smiled flashed in blinding bursts; she silently handed Bree another key, this one gold which spoke in a little girl's peeling voice, "What is ease?" The neon woman shattered into bits of glitter and green while Bree, unable to move, stared at the gold key for hours, afraid of the question which now lay dead or asleep in a doorway.
Confused, Bree stumbled to a house where she thought she lived but she couldn't be sure until her tarnished key would not open the lock; she inserted the gold key which turned with a smooth and eerie snick. The heavy door opened to someone else's house, rooms of things she did not know which spoke to her in grating tinny voices, the rich leather sofas and marble-based lamps and gold-framed mirrors she did not choose or make - We own you - in a life she did not build.
"...a life oriented to leisure is in the end a life oriented to death - the greatest leisure of all."
Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird