
Author of Locksmith trilogy, Altered Seasons. 🟦: paulgbriggs Mst.: [email protected] IG: paulbriggs238 YT: lockswriter
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ALT The town hall was still standing. The door had been left propped open with a doorstop, but Gary still needed the crowbar to open it wide enough. Inside, it was almost as dark as night and filled with a strange rustling noise and an unpleasant ammonia smell. “You know what we should’ve thought of?” said Gary. “A flashlight?” “Great minds think alike. I’ve been in here before… the directory should be over… over that way.” “Over that way” turned out to be a patch of near-total darkness. Lock felt his way around the wall until his fingers hit something that felt right. In the gloom he could just barely make out the white plastic letters on the ridged black surface. Now, if only he could read them… If only he could read them, then what? If they found a room labeled “RECORDS” and the records were actually still intact, how would they find what they were looking for in the dark? They’d planned this whole thing out so carefully, but just because it was daytime, they hadn’t thought of a…













