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Darius Cray was a rich man, and much unlike his sister Nadia. He has lived in his giant, fancy house on the edge of a small town for five years now. Eating four rounded meals a day, Darius was a short, petulant man with a very unpleasant attitude. The only friend he could ever confide in was his sister, loving and caring as she was, but he was so full of pride for himself he wouldn’t even dare think he needed the help of others. He was convinced he should be happy, but a big, gaping void seemed to be building inside him, most of it loneliness. Happiness, he had always thought, was something you could buy. For him, happiness had taken the shape of fancy chairs, silk robes, and jewel covered tables. He never thought much of the outside world; only his very old mansion filled with marble busts, and golfing on Sundays.
On this particular day, Darius woke up and, after his morning black coffee, discovered a very ugly, rough edge in one of his best living room chairs. Intrigued, he shredded the upholstery. He would regret this later, at the time he was fascinated by what he found: Two letters sent to his address but written for someone else entirely. They were stamped, but never sent. The first one was dated back to 1918 and was written by Howard Cray, Darius’s great grandfather. Carefully, as if a time bomb could go off if the envelope wasn’t opened correctly, he separated the brittle flap from the 90-year-old adhesive. He removed the paper, delicate as ash, and began to read:

March 26th, 1918
To Whom It May Concern,
You are now the proud owner of this wonderful house. Congratulations! However, I must warn you about a secret I kept when I once owned this house. I cannot tell you much, however you must understand it is very important you do as I say. On the third floor behind the guest room closet, there is a green door. The door leads up a flight of stairs and at the top is the door to the attic. If you open this door you will most certainly release an evil machine known as ASH. Please, as long as you live in this house, you must never go in the attic. I know you might have a great desire to feed your curiosity but sometimes things are better left unknown. It may be much easier for you to move out of this house, perhaps to an apartment where there isn't an attic to come across. Somewhere with other people, somewhere loneliness doesn't exist. It can be torturous. It will keep you here. Don't make the same mistake I did.
You have been warned,
Howard Cray, former house owner

Darius felt like he was daydreaming. He took a look around the gloom that filled his house and felt something he couldn’t recognize. He read the letter several times over, digesting what he was seeing and trying to make sense of it. For a moment, he wondered if he had woken up in the right house. This house? Was he reading the address wrong? No, the address was positively his house. 152 Charles Drive, Kansas. Kansas? He lived in Kansas now? Oh, well. His mind wasn't always in the right place, and sometimes he forgot simple things about his life. Had he been in the attic of this ancient house? Did it even have an attic? He didn’t recall being in one. Much less an apparently ominous looking one with some sinister evil lurking in the dusty shadows. “Listen to me,” he said to his empty house. “I’m driving myself insane.” He tossed both letters on the living room table and thought nothing of them. After all, it was time for golf.

Nadia had just woken up when Darius headed out to play golf. Everyone in town knew Nadia, and there wasn’t a person alive who could say something bad about her. The town she and Darius lived in was a small one, so small and off the grid it was perfect for someone who was trying to get away from their past. She had came to this town two years after Darius because shes wanted to escape her old life. Her plan was working out fine so far. She had a nice house and she had everything to smile about. She was so selfless, she had earned the trust of the townspeople within weeks of arriving. She was so interesting and admirable no one probed her any further when she refused to talk about where she came from.
That day, Nadia had woken up on a particularly good note, and started her day with a nice hot breakfast. Half way through eating, there was a knock on the door. 'Who could that be?' she thought. She darted over to open the door, backtracked, remembered how cold it could get in the autumn mornings, slipped into a coat, and then went out on the porch. No one was there.
“Probably just the neighbor kids playing games.” She was about to get out of the frosty autumn air and back to her breakfast when she noticed an odd envelope at her doorstep. The envelope seemed to be charred. She could not make out who it was from. It felt like it was still warm, as if someone had just recently removed it from a fire and left it right at her doorstep. Whatever it was, she picked it up carefully and went back inside, out of the cold.
She decided to leave the envelope a mystery until after she finished her breakfast; even the most curious things couldn't keep Nadia from her homemade honey pancakes. Nonetheless, as soon as the last bite was eaten, she pushed her plate aside and went for the envelope. It had cooled, and the address was just barely readable after the supposed fire. If she were reading correctly, the envelope was addressed to 152 Charles Drive. That was close to where she lived. When she tried to open the envelope, it began crumbling in her hands. She tore away and in the middle she found an old skeleton key, just like the ones used for the old house up the road. She knew that house. Nadia put two and two together. 152 Charles Drive is where her brother lived. She knew this letter couldn't had been sent recently... the postage stamp, black as it was, she knew hadn't been used for years. So how did this envelope end up on her doorstep, and why was it put into a fire?
Darius lived about 15 minutes from Nadia’s on foot, and having not seen her brother in a while, she figured delivering the mysterious key would be a good excuse to check up on him in that big house. She couldn’t help wondering on her way down to her brother’s why on earth that key had showed up at her house. She didn’t believe in magic. Having a scientist’s mind, Nadia knew there had to be a logical explanation for this odd occurrence, but she was still stumped when she reached Darius’ front steps and rang the doorbell.

Author's Note

Please leave constructive criticism and edits.