According to the map, the best way, it said, was to go under the footbridge and follow the dual carriageway to where it bends right, and take the left – this road leads nowhere, but it’s the best place to park and then walk over the railway bridge onto the station approach; take the steps down to the main road, cross over, walk along the buildings for a bit, and that’s where Key Street is.
That’s what the map said.
I’m at the junction of the main road and where Key Street should be – only it isn’t there.
The main road behind me, all modern, busy with traffic, shops, food places and neon signs, just a usual typical main road.
In front of me is an alleyway, a back alley at that, a back alley that looks like it’s stood still since the 1930s, not a street at all.
And at the end is the building… the building that shouldn’t be there… not here… not then… the building that hosts the Bistro… but the thing is, I’m not even in the same country as where the Bistro is – this mystical place certainly seems to have a unique pull about it.
A second entry for Six Sentence Stories, where the prompt word this week is ‘Key’. Well… all keys lead to somewhere, don’t they?
The Mansionic Perspective 
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