Night Time Story: The House of 1000 Locks
Maya’s grandmother had warned her never to enter the abandoned mansion on Riddle Road, but when her paper airplane flew through an open window, Maya couldn’t resist following it.
The front door swung shut behind her with a click. Maya tried the handle—locked. In fact, every door she tried was closed.
The house was filled with doors of all shapes and sizes, each with different locks. Brass locks, wooden locks, locks shaped like animals and stars.
“Hello?” Maya called. Only echoes answered.
On a dusty table lay a note: “One thousand locks guard the exit. Only one key opens each. Find the pattern, find your way.”
A single bronze key hung from a ribbon nearby. Maya tried it on the nearest door. It worked! But beyond was just another room with more locked doors.
In each room, Maya found exactly one key. Some were hidden in books, others under rugs or inside clocks. Each key opened only one specific lock. She began to feel hopeless—at this rate, it would take days to escape.
By the twentieth room, Maya noticed something. The first key had been bronze in a room with blue wallpaper. The second, silver in a room with red wallpaper. There was a pattern! The room’s color hinted at which lock to try.
Maya moved faster now, seeing connections everywhere. Keys shaped like animals opened doors with animal-shaped locks. Heavy iron keys belonged to ancient wooden doors. The house wasn’t trapping her—it was teaching her.
As she solved each puzzle, the lights grew brighter. In the final room, instead of a key, Maya found a mirror. She stared at her reflection, confused.
Then she understood—the final key was herself. She pressed her hand against the last door, and it swung open into her grandmother’s garden.
Her grandmother was waiting with a knowing smile. “You found your way out.”
“You knew about the house?” Maya gasped.
“It appears to those who need its lesson. The house of locks taught me patience when I was your age. Today it taught you to see patterns and trust yourself.”
Maya realized each lock she’d opened had made her more confident. The house hadn’t been a prison but a classroom.
From then on, whenever Maya faced a difficult problem, she remembered the house of 1000 locks—and how she held the key all along.
By Samuel Keystone
