I collect skeleton keys. Not because I find their antique appeal beautiful, but rather because their vibrations tell secrets. Each key leads to the wonder of what it opened, what locked compartment it allowed a human to enter. How magnificant lost keys are. What sort of mysteries they behold. They were kept in pockets, stored confessions, hid riches, and spoke the directions of unknown corridors. They are made of a hundred different metals, etched with a thousand designs. Hold one in the palm of your hand. Feel it, listen to it, and it will tell you old fairytales that a very few ever knew existed.
