The Vault Door

It is 3:00 in the afternoon so, as I do every day, I go about the mansion dusting the various surfaces in the many, many rooms. It seems an oddly large number of rooms for a single man to own, even with the addition of his three young nephews. The rooms they use in particular have been a mess, though none of the other staff seem to mind. It makes this empty place feel more alive and loved.

I pass the big circular door as I do every day. I know that the master uses this room daily. I've seen him as he pulls the large key out from his pocket and look to see that no one is looking. I've watched from my hiding place as he turns the great circular handle and seals the door like a vault. I've observed as he creeps inside and shuts it behind him. What does the master do in that room? And why is he always wearing a bathing suit? Has he hidden away some hot spring beneath the manor? Perhaps a pool or sauna? None of the staff seem to know what lies within, or if they do they have kept to showing ignorance.

I check one of the many clocks throughout the house and see that the time draws near. I must know, I decide.

I find my hidden place in the shadows where I know he will not find me and I wait. I wait several long minutes, my heart thudding in my chest with fear of what I will find when I finally steal away into that vault-looking thing. Finally, I hear him padding down the hall. I bury myself deeper into the darkness, shutting my eyes as if fearing they would give off some luminescence and reveal my position. I listen as he walks by, allowing myself a peak at his figure. I see him in that bathing suit, briefly, and shut my eyes again. This is it, I realize. I am finally going to know. What will the others think, I wonder?

I hear the gentle jangling of the key before it is inserted. The grating of some metal bar as it is removed from a latch. The squeaking of metal as the wheel is turned. I open my eyes and see him swing the large door open.

He steps beyond and I make my move.

Rushing forward as stealthily as I can manage in my servant's uniform, I manage to just barely catch the door before it closes with the feather duster in my hand. I fear for a moment that the weight of the metal door will snap my tool in half. The wood of the handle holds, just barely, and the door is open to me. Cautiously I move my hand forward to the edge of the door and grasp it.

I swing it open and can not believe my eyes.

"Uncle Scwooge?" I hear from behind me. No, this can't be happening! The nephews have caught me. I spin around, ready to explain myself, but I trip upon the edge of the doorway.

The last thing I see before the darkness takes me is that wondrous treasure - a great pool of golden coins as the master swims among them effortlessly.