The Queen of Magic

My name is Anastasia, I am twenty two years old and I have black hair and brown eyes, my mother died, in a car accident when I was 10, since then it's been just dad and I.

I am a writer, I've never published a book before, but I'm working on it, right now I work at the local cafe, it's just me, the owner and two other girls, and then the kitchen workers, that's it.

It's Wednesday evening and my shift just ended, I took off my maroon apron, waved bye to Aaron, the owner, took a pastry off the counter, showed it to Aaron, who just smiled and winked, I left the Cafe, and started my ten minute walk home, on the way I saw Geoffrey, a homeless man.

"Hi Geoff," I greeted as I kneeled next to him, he flashed me a smile as I handed him the pastry.

"God bless you," he croaked, I smiled, promising to see him again tomorrow, I left.

I got home and started to look for my keys in my bag when I noticed the door was already open. Cautiously I took a step inside, not knowing what I would find.

"DAD," I shouted, "are you here?"

No reply, but then I stopped and gasped, my breath stuck in my throat as I saw legs behind the black leather sofa, The person the legs belonged to was lying on the floor, I started to walk again dreading what I would find, what I saw, I shall never forget, it was my father bleeding to death, he was choking I ran to him, behind the couch, I held onto his hand trying to cover the three bullet wounds on his chest with my other hand.

"Dad?" I whispered.

"My desk..." he choked there was a key between our hands, I had asked him about the key he wore around his neck countless times, but he would get this far away look in his eye, and then he'd reveal he could not remember where he got it, he just knew it was important, but it seems he remembers now, he took his last breath and died, I screamed.

I called the police and ambulance, they came and took my statement, I told them everything but I didn't mention the key, there was no need to.

They did a postmortem on my father and I was given the body three days later, the police decided it was a robbery gone wrong, they promised to catch the murderer. I planned a funeral and the neighbours helped, all passing their condolences, some mentioning that if I needed anything I should just ask, to which I was thankful.

Turns out my father left this house to me, and as an adult, I now owned it completely.

Cool huh? No parents but a big house all to myself, this house consisted of five bedrooms, three were not used we used to use them for sleepovers, when my friends came over, but now they were empty.

It had a big modern kitchen, complete with a table with bar stools, all silver of course, then there was the living room, next to that was my fathers study, he had always worked from home ever since my mother died, he never got a babysitter, and we had no other family, my parents had both been orphans, they had friends but none that ever came to visit, even on Christmas it had always just been us.

Upstairs, there was a family bathroom. Again, it was never used. My parents' bedroom had an ensuite, as did mine. Both our bathrooms were big enough for a shower and a bath, as well as a toilet and sink. My bathroom was all white, with a black ceiling. My dad had changed his to a wooden look, so the outside of the bath was wooden and the outside of the sink was also wooden.

My bedroom had a queen-sized bed; you would see it as soon as you open my door. On the left of the bed would be my bathroom; on the right of my bed was my walk-in closet. I don't even have many clothes in there. I only have it because, as a child, I was obsessed with Narnia, so my parents made the closet for me. I always wished I could go to Narnia; of course, it never happened.

I kept it even though I didn't believe in Narnia anymore because, every time I saw it, I remembered my mom.

For the closet, all you could see was the door. Once you opened the door, you would find the closet. I mainly used it for storage these days. On the same wall was my dressing table with a mirror and all my beauty products.

A week after his death I sat at my fathers desk, in his study, playing with the key that he had given me, all the drawers on this desk were unlocked, and none had a key hole, so what was the key for?

I jumped and dropped the key as a bird flew into the window, that had happened many times before, I shook my head at the silliness of the bird and my own silliness, then crouched down to pick up the key, but on the underside of the desk there seemed to be a hidden draw shaped compartment, it had a keyhole that would fit the key my father had given me.

I put in the key, and turned it, but instead of the compartment opening the whole desk started to split down the middle.

Along with the desk, the floor underneath started to split open as well.

I stood and moved back a little, the floor split to reveal stone steps going down.