Underneath an old rug that lays on the floor near the door of an ancient cabin in the woods outside of a town I grew up in lies a key. It isn’t anykind of special key, in that it does not open any hidden door or secret safe, no special lock or safety deposit box; no the key is just that, a key. Not even ornately designed for that matter, with a tooth missing and a rusty stench that bleeds dust on your fingers should you be so furtunate to find it. No, the key is just a key.

But why, you may be asking your computer screen, and of course this is very natural seeing how anyone who spends any amount of time reading or seeing or hearing or watching anything that is online spends at the very least a third of that time commenting to themselves about the content of the things that they are reading or seeing or hearing or, whatever. Why, as I have said, would you mention the key at all you may be asking.
Well, the answer is this; this particular key just so happens to be the very key that unlocks the very lock that is keeping closed the hinge that is fastened to the box where my body, with me inside is hiding. (I say hiding when in truth a mean hidden because as far as I know I had no intention of crawling in this box therefor cannot, by my recollection be responsible for being in the box in the first place…) Where was I…

Oh, the key!! So at the door, or just beyond and under the rug, on a corner and not the middle I’m sure for there was only the one bump near the edge and no other is the key to freedom from inside this box. I mention this to you, dear reader for the sole purpose of possibly persueding you to turn from this page and escape to the place where the box may reside with the key in the cabin are waiting near by to release my poor captured and cramped up mind.

Be warey, dear traveler closing the gap, those hampered or hungered by placing me hear may be viciously waiting to trap what comes near. So travel you lightly and plan your attack, if ever, dear reader you wish for me back.

Matthew Newton
DOC #81868