Sean Spencer's life had never been one to boast of fortune. A man of unfortunate events, he often joked that if there was ever a "wrong place, wrong time" contest, he'd win every time. If a door had to close, it would close on him. If an object had to fall, it would fall on him. He couldn't even find a penny on the sidewalk without tripping over it.
On this fateful day, he was rushing home after another mundane day, dodging puddles and hoping for a break from his luck. But luck, as always, seemed to hate him. As he rounded the corner of a quiet alley, he slipped on a banana peel (again), only to crash into a dumpster, his head hitting the metal with a painful clang. As he rubbed his throbbing skull, something shiny caught his eye—a small, intricately designed key glowing softly in the dark corner of the alley.
Curiosity, paired with his sheer boredom of the mundane, drew him closer. His hands brushed over the smooth surface of the key, noticing that the design was strange—spider motifs adorned the handle, with golden accents gleaming despite the dim light.
"What the heck...?" he muttered, before standing up, brushing himself off, and shoving the key into his pocket without much thought.
But as Sean walked away, something shifted in the air, like an unseen force beginning to take shape, waiting to latch onto him.