( CW ) ( LAST SENTENCE ) And then he proceeded to lock the door , hoping that no one would ever open it again .

Woodrow High was ancient. Trees had grown and been felled in the time that it had been around many times over. Most kids hated it, the building looked ancient, smelled ancient, hell it even sounded ancient, with a furnace perpetually on it ’ s last breath. Kyle, on the other hand, loved it. 
 He spent his lunches wandering the building and learning it, bottom to top. He knew every inch of the building. He had a mental map of every spot on the floor that would creak if you stepped on it. He could tell you where every door went, as well as the quickest way to get there from any other point. 
 All except one. 
 Door 049 in the basement. Locked always. Asking around, he found that no one had the key to it, and when he asked administration what lay behind it, they said it was just a wall. Supposedly the trademark of the architect. Kyle knew that this must be a lie, as when you stood next to it and put your hand to the seam, you could feel the faintest of breezes coming through. 
 One lunchtime, feeling courageous, he talked to the janitor, as he sometimes did, and snatched his keys. The janitor might think he had just lost them, and Kyle could sneak them back into his office before anyone suspected anything. 
 Kyle left the janitor casually, but once he rounded a corner, he sprinted to the basement. Hardly anyone was in the hallway, so he waited until they left, and slid the first key into the lock. 
 The knob did not turn. He tried the next key. Again the door stayed shut. 
 After six keys, the correct one presented itself. An unassuming silver key. It fit into the lock, and allowed the knob to spin. Strangely enough, the door opened smoothly, unlike any other door in the building. 
 Behind the door was a small room. Perhaps designed to be a broom closet. 
 “ Is that fucking it? ” He said to himself. And then he proceeded to lock the door, hoping that no one would ever open it again.
