I know I complain about the tower being temperamental, but sometimes it outdoes itself. Like the time I found a person trapped in it. A whole, actual person. And now, I can’t stop wondering how many other surprises it’s hiding—or if I’m going to stumble across a skeleton someday.
Here’s what happened.
It started innocently enough. I was wandering around, trying to find the kitchen. The tower had decided to shuffle things around again, so instead of walking into the pantry (where I thought I was going), I ended up in a narrow hallway I’d never seen before. It smelled musty, like old wood and damp stone, and the flickering torches on the walls did not help the creepy vibe.
I almost turned around to try a different door, but something caught my eye—a metal gate at the end of the hall. It was big and heavy, with iron bars that looked like they belonged in a dungeon. Naturally, I had to investigate.
When I got closer, I realized there was someone inside the room beyond the gate. A man, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. His clothes were dirty, his hair was a tangled mess, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Uh… hello?” I called out, because, really, what else was I supposed to say?
The man jerked upright, his eyes wide like he thought I was some kind of ghost. “You’re real?” he croaked, his voice rough. “You’re not another trick?”
“Pretty sure I’m real,” I said, leaning against the bars. “Who are you? And why are you locked in there?”
He groaned and rubbed his face, clearly regretting some life choices. “I tried breaking in last week. Thought this place was abandoned. Next thing I know, the tower locked me in here.”
I stared at him, completely dumbfounded. The tower locked him up? “Wait, it can do that?”
“Apparently,” he said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Every time I try to leave, I end up back in this room. I don’t know what kind of magic this place has, but it’s like it’s playing with me.”
I couldn’t decide if I was more impressed or horrified. On the one hand, good for the tower, defending itself and all. On the other hand… what else was it hiding?
“Okay, um, I’ll tell my father,” I said, trying to sound helpful. “He might be able to get you out.”
The man slumped back against the wall, muttering something about being doomed to haunt this room forever. I took that as my cue to leave.
But as I made my way back to the main hall, my mind started spiraling. If the tower could trap someone like that, who’s to say it hasn’t done it before? What if there are more people stuck in random rooms, waiting for someone to find them? Or worse, what if it trapped someone a hundred years ago and they… well, you know.
The thought of skeletons hidden in closets—or under floorboards, or in secret basements—has haunted me ever since. Every time I open a door, I half expect to find a pile of bones holding a lockpick and looking very regretful.
And the worst part? There’s no way to know. The tower’s got so many rooms I’ve never even seen, and it’s not like it’s going to tell me if there’s a “Skeleton Closet” somewhere. For all I know, I’m living in a magical labyrinth of hidden prisoners and ancient secrets.
So, yeah. If you ever think, “Wow, Sarra’s life must be so cool, living in a magical tower,” just remember this: I have no idea what’s lurking behind half the doors in this place. It could be treasure. It could be a portal to another world. Or it could be a thief who’s been stuck here for a week, eating dust and regretting all their choices.
At least now I know not to underestimate the tower. It might be moody, but it’s got a sense of justice. (And, apparently, a very dramatic way of dealing with trespassers.)
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