The Cipher: Locks and Keys

The cold, metal bars slid open, and Lockey stepped out of his cell, the confines of juvenile detention releasing him back into the world. Five years had passed since the night that changed everything, and now, at seventeen, Lockey found himself adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

He stood tall at 5'7, his green hair now a deeper shade of emerald, his demeanour burdened by a haunting melancholia. The past weighed heavily upon him, his life devoid of joy and contentment. The faces of his parents haunted his dreams, their voices echoing in the silent corridors of his memories.

As Lockey attempted to readjust to life outside the cold walls of the detention centre, despite the gravity of his actions, Lockey remained unrepentant. He bore the consequences of his choices with a steely resolve, the memory of his parents' blood on his hands serving as a haunting yet affirming reminder of the path he had chosen. Days turned into months, and months into years, as Lockey forged a new life for himself. Yet, he remained a prisoner of his past, the scars of his actions etched deep into his soul. Now, ten years after that fateful night, Lockey stood alone, his green eyes gazing solemnly into the distance, the shadows of his past forever lurking in the corners of his mind.

"You're free to go," the guard announced, the cell door swinging open. Lockey stepped out into the world, "It has been 5 year and this is how the world looks" an uncertain future looming before him. With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, he found himself wandering the streets, struggling to survive.

"I wish I was still in that damn prison," Lockey thought bitterly, his teeth chattering from the biting cold. "At least I had a roof over my head, food in my belly, and a semblance of peace while at the juvenile prison" as he wished he could go back.

Months passed, and Lockey's hope dwindled. With each frigid night spent huddled in doorways and each empty day spent looking for scraps, his resolve weakened. The cold seeped into his bones, numbing his limbs and his spirit.

As he lay shivering beneath a tattered blanket, Lockey's despair grew. "Maybe it would be better to just give up," he mused, the thought of death offering a twisted comfort. "Maybe then, I'll finally find the peace that eludes me."

Amidst the haze, a figure began to take shape—a stranger with an outstretched hand and a compassionate gaze. With a sharp intake of breath, Lockey wiped his eyes and focused on the man before him, perhaps in his early fifties, who offered him a lifeline "Come with me," the man said, his voice gentle yet firm, with no choice, I took his helping hand and followed him.

I blinked my eyes open, finding myself in a cosy bed. Confused, I felt the soft mattress and pinched my arm, just to be sure I wasn't dreaming or, you know, dead.

"Hahaha, you're a funny one!" came a voice from my left. I turned to see an old geezer, probably in his fifties, laughing away like he'd just heard the world's best joke.

"You saved me... but why?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Couldn't let a kid like you die on my watch," he said, chuckling again. "I don't have much space, but the house is yours when I kick the bucket. And trust me, with my cancer, that won't be long!"

"So, you saved me to be your heir?" I asked, my confusion growing by the second. This guy definitely needed a check-up from the neck up.

He offered me food, shelter, and his only bedroom. "You sleep on the bed, I'll take the couch," he insisted, laughing again. "It's your house now, kiddo!"

I didn't argue. "Hey, Laughing Face," I started, "what would you do if a fairy granted you extra years?"

He gave me a confused look. "Hahaha, there's no such thing as fairies!"

Awkward silence.

"Never mind," I said, wondering if the cancer had affected his brain, too.

Some day's later, the old geezer condition worsened

Like he'd predicted, the old guy's time was almost up. He lay on the bed as I stood beside him in case he needed anything.

"Hey, I never asked your name," he said, his voice shaky. "Can't die without knowing my heir's name, right?"

"Lockey," I replied, "and no last name. I ditched it a while back. But what's the name of the man giving me his house and stuff?"

"Albert," he replied, straining to speak.

After a moment of silence, he whispered, "I know you're that kid from the news five years ago. The one who..." He trailed off, coughing. "I don't need to know everything, but remember this: be a good person, keep a calm mind, and a pure heart. Even if others aren't so nice."

I stayed quiet, unsure what to say. "Cough... cough... Farewell, kiddo!" Albert laughed one last time before, well, you know... kicking the bucket.

I gave him a proper burial, and in the short time I stayed with him, I already started missing his psychopathic laughter.

The echoes of Albert's laughter still rang in Lockey's mind as he stood beside the old man's grave, paying his final respects. In the short time they'd spent together, Lockey had grown fond of Albert and his quirky sense of humor.

With Albert's parting words etched into his heart, Lockey embarked on a new chapter of his life, determined to honor the wisdom imparted to him. Though his past still haunted him, he vowed to focus on the present and create a brighter future.