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Elias knelt, digging through the dirt and dead leaves. His fingers hit something cold and hard. He pulled out a heavy brass key wrapped in a plastic bag. Attached to it was a small tag with a single number: 3503.

A (like the person who received the letter) What kind of twist DSC03503.jpg

Driven by a mixture of grief and curiosity, Elias drove to the coordinates. There, standing tall amidst a sea of weeds, was a rusted iron gate and a massive, ancient elm tree. As the sun hit its zenith, the shadow of the elm stretched across the gravel, its tip touching the base of the gate's left pillar. Elias knelt, digging through the dirt and dead leaves