hey guys ! here I have three entries for @painterwoman's writing contests; a poem, haiku, and short story !
time taken :: 2/1/26- ty to @painterwoman for hosting ! entry 3 :: The Puzzle Room The rain came down in sheets as four friends hurried down the narrow street, laughing and shivering under a single umbrella. It was Friday night, and their plan was simple: try out the new escape room that had just opened on the edge of town. “The Puzzle Room,” read the flickering neon sign above the door. “Solve the mystery, win your freedom.” “Sounds dramatic,” joked Leo, pushing open the door. Inside, the air smelled faintly of dust and old wood. A tall man in a dark suit greeted them with a polite smile. “Welcome, challengers,” he said. “I’m Mr. Graves, your host. You have sixty minutes to escape. Fail, and…” He paused for effect. “…you’ll be trapped forever.” The friends laughed nervously. It was all part of the act, they thought. Mr. Graves led them into a dimly lit room filled with antique furniture, locked boxes, and strange symbols painted on the walls. The door shut behind them with a heavy click. “Okay,” said Maya, clapping her hands. “Let’s do this!” They split up to search for clues. Sam found a note hidden under a candleholder: The key lies where the heart stops. Leo discovered a ticking clock with no hands. Emma noticed that one of the portraits on the wall had eyes that seemed to follow her. As they worked, the lights flickered. A low hum filled the room, followed by a voice over the intercom. “You’re doing well,” said Mr. Graves. “But not everyone escapes my puzzles.” The friends froze. Something about his tone didn’t sound like acting anymore. Maya tried the door—it was locked tight. “Okay, that’s… weird,” she said. “Maybe it’s part of the game?” Then Sam spotted a newspaper clipping pinned behind a curtain. The headline read: Local Detective Still Searching for ‘The Puzzle Maker’—Notorious Trickster Behind Series of Disappearances. The photo beneath the headline showed a man with the same sharp smile as Mr. Graves. “Guys,” Sam whispered, “I think this is real.” Panic set in, but Leo took a deep breath. “No. We can solve this. That’s what he wants us to do.” They worked together, piecing together riddles and unlocking compartments. Each clue led to another, faster now, their teamwork sharper than ever. Finally, Emma found a hidden switch behind the portrait. The wall slid open, revealing a narrow hallway leading to the exit. They burst through the door and stumbled into the rain, gasping for air. When they turned back, the building was dark. The neon sign had gone out. The next morning, when they returned with the police, the shop was empty—no furniture, no puzzles, no trace of Mr. Graves. But on the door, written in neat handwriting, was a single note: Congratulations. You escaped.
