Good morning, everyone! I posted the beginning of this short story a couple weeks ago, and here I am with the next part! Enjoy. 😀
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Inside the trunk are oblong shapes and bulges all covered by white muslin and other scraps of carefully tucked fabric. My inner adventurer jumps in excitement as I reach down and gently unfold one of the objects.
When the cloth falls away, it reveals a stunning sword in a scabbard. Well, I can’t see if the sword itself is stunning, but the scabbard sure is. It’s made of leather with engravings in another language all down it. A few gems are embedded into the top of it, and laced all through the piece is stitching in a fine, silvery thread.
It’s also heavy, so I set it carefully aside and pull out the next piece.
Should I be snooping? Probably not—but Uncle Bryan did say I could look through the whole house.
The next piece is a leather chestpiece, followed by the remainder of a full set of leather and metal armor. It’s not any kind I’ve seen in pictures, so it must be old. Or not from my country at all.
Why does Uncle Bryan have this stuff? Was it his? Or his parents’?
I stare at the pieces for a long moment, shifting them so the dim light catches the metal pieces and makes them glint. It doesn’t look like a heavy outfit—being mostly leather. The sword is the heaviest part.
I pick it up again, studying the letters all over the scabbard. What does it say? Heaving myself to my feet, I lug the weapon after me and descend the ladder into my room.
I have to ask Uncle Bryan about this. I know both he and my father fought in the war, so it might belong to him. He might be able to explain why it looks so strange and what the letters mean.
He’s still out on the porch when I come downstairs, and I lean the sword awkwardly against the doorframe.
At the sound, his shoulders tense before he looks at me.
“I forgot you were here for a moment, Corey. Sorry about—what’s that?”
I motion to the sword. “This? Oh, I thought you might be able to tell me what it is. Where’d it come from? There’s a whole—”
He grabs the sword carefully, towering over me as he studies it. I step back, out of the doorway to give him space.
A long moment passes, then he looks past the pommel at me. “You opened the trunk?”
“You said—”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that again.” With that, he leads me back up the stairs to my room and ascends into the attic. In the dim light, I scurry up just in time to see him stuffing the sword back into the trunk. I watch silently as he replaces the rest of the items and shuts the lid.
“Uncle Bryan?” I say timidly as he sits back on his haunches. His head turns to look at me.
“What, Corey?”
“What are they for? Were they yours?” I ask, biting my lip. He doesn’t seem mad, but the adventurer spirit has already died within me.
“Don’t come up here again, Corey. Please. If you tell anyone about those things, you could get hurt.” He motions for me to climb back down the ladder, and when I do, he follows me, shutting the trap door and latching it shut. But it’s not locked.
In silence, he leads me out of my room and back down to the dining room. And all the while I’m wondering, Who would hurt me? You, Uncle Bryan? Or someone else?
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Thanks so much for reading! What do you think so far? I’d love to chat in the comments!
~Janet
