The Gate of the Silver Key

"If you ever go back there, you might never return," her father had sternly told her. "The Faire Folk take offence easily especially to those who act like whiny, self-obsessed princess-brats."

But why would she want to remain in the Mortal World with its countless narrow-minded mundane rules.

According to popular Otherkin lore, it was said in this city half-way between between Faerie and the Human Territories, there were parties and festivities of all kinds. Even though the streets weren't paved with gold, there were arcades full of free food along with ornamental gewgaws and fashionable clothing to wear. Here, anyone was welcome to set up shops, no matter their class or origin. Here, all your desires and dreams would eventually come true. And if you stay here long enough, you could even becme a citizen of Faerie.

Things would be much easier if she was a real elf, she reasoned. Elves were like so perfect. They have incredibly keen senses, vast knowledge, enchantment and etheral beauty. Everything she didn't have, everything she wasn't, all because someone Upstairs screwed up and her real self was stuffed inside this grotty human shell. But she was going to fix all that.

She looked down at the Token she cradled in the palm of her right hand, only it wasn't just any ole Token you shoved in a slot of a subway turnstile. It was a key, only it didn't look like a key.

For one thing, it was spherical. Who'd ever heard of a spherical key? Certainly not Rose, and she knew keys, having swiped a few of them. It was silver, this sphere, small enough to be concealed in a tightly closed fist and its entire surface was inscripted with delicate characters that looked like Elvish writing.

It was beautiful, it was intriguing, and she had a feeling that there was a lock nearby that would fit this shiny little key.

--your turn--