The Family Heirloom?

*Mild Profanity*

[WP] When a person dies, their spirit gets trapped in their most beloved object, granting magical powers to whoever finds it. While cleaning your great-grandma's house, you found her long-lost amulet. An elderly, sweet voice echoes through the empty corridors: "Who wants lasagnas?"

*****

Wisps of wind lazily drifted through the open window of a darkened attic, bringing upon the soft beginnings of morning light.

Trees colored red and orange mindlessly danced to the soft cries of migrating birds. Passersby dressed in wool strolled along fallen leaves, their boots crushing against concrete.

All around, the world somehow felt cozy and cool all at once, like the dawning of peace after a heavy storm.

It was true, Autumn had finally settled.

Still, darkness existed. In tucked corners of the universe. Under towering bushes. When clouds drifted overhead. In the attic of a house on the corner of Baker’s Street.

In fact, Baker’s Street was no ordinary street, something its residents wholeheartedly agreed with. Mr. Timons, an old and bitter man, refused to cut his grass, no matter how overgrown it became. Ms. Lain kept illegal chickens in her backyard, and Mr. and Mrs. Babcot, an eccentric couple, lived inside the only greenhouse in the neighborhood. Baker’s Street was peculiar indeed, though It seemed that no matter how odd it was, the house on the corner was odder.

It had belonged to an elderly woman whose name no one ever knew nor dared ask. In fact, it seemed that the house remained unoccupied completely. Still, some particularly rowdy residents of Baker’s Street claimed they had seen the woman through the window, watching them with her beady eyes. Some even believed they could hear her voice late at night, in their dreams, saying the same phrase over and over again.

Nobody ever thought of the souls that lived on after death, trapped within unusual trinkets, soft blankets, a child’s favorite toy, your most beloved object.

And though this was known, it was also known that hearts, while souls, did not have a mind and could not think. Could not remember. Did not have a memory. Perhaps that is to say life after death is simply unknown, a quiet aspect to an otherwise sullen end.

Nobody ever thought of this, and so nobody would ever know the soul that lay trapped inside the house on the corner of Baker’s Street. Nobody, except for Sarah Medley.

It was with the dawning of Autumn that Sarah arrived, her plump heels clicking against the concrete and drawing the curiosity of the residents. “A relative,” Ms. Lain whispered to her sister over tea. “A coroner,” Mr. Babcot told his wife during breakfast. Mr. Timons, per usual, stayed silent.

All the while Sarah Medley remained oblivious to the gossip that traveled as she made her way up the broken steps of the old house. She fished keys from her designer purse and wrangled the door open, letting it swing against the dark-painted walls. The floors creaked all the way up the stairs, inside the two washrooms and four bedrooms she cleaned, and even within the dark crevices of its large attic.

It was there that she found her childhood. Piles and piles of boxes made up the majority of the room, a child’s rocking horse tucked into the corner. Her rocking horse; the one she spent hours swaying upon as a kid and then later gazing longingly at when she had to watch her younger cousins fight for turns. Her great-grandmother always winked at her with large, speckled eyes while she sulked. Grandma Eleanor never failed to bring a smile to her face. And now she’s gone. Never to smile or be smiled at again. Never being able to watch her own children play on a rocking horse.

How long had she lived this way? In this quiet, old house, without so much as a word for company.

When was the last time she visited?

Sarah burned with shame, tears welling up in her eyes despite her best efforts to stop them.

She gazed along the walls, where even in the attic pictures sat proudly. It seemed Grandma Eleanor had tried her best to fill the house up with as much love as she could. Dozens of family members danced from beautiful rustic frames, their smiles wide and hearts even bigger — as always, with Grandma Eleanor having the biggest. It reminded her of growing up; a time so far away and yet so close. Like she was frozen in time with no way to move over, nostalgia and sadness slowly eating away at her heart.

Sarah sighed, wiping her tear-stained cheek. She walked to the furthest wall, the one with the window, and peered outside. It was a nice view— she could see dozens of colored trees milling about, and a dozen more fallen leaves. The light would hit the room perfectly.

Perhaps then, this would explain why her eyes caught the glittering green in the distance.

She stepped back from the window and made her way to the sparkling object. Picking it up, she found that it was a beautiful, emerald amulet. Specks of gold illuminated the rim of the necklace.

“Who wants lasagna?” A sweet voice suddenly filled the empty corridor.

Startled, she jumped, dropping the amulet.

“Nobody wants your crusty lasagna, Edna,” another voice scoffed.

“Well, I’ve never —”

“Hush now,” a third, familiar voice chided, “Can’t you see you’re scaring the poor dear? It’s alright, dear, you can come closer. We won’t hurt you.”

“I’m not promising anything,” the second voice snapped.

The familiar voice tutted, “It’s alright Sarah, you’re not going crazy.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that —”

“Would you care for some lasagna, dear? You’re looking a little bit peaky there.”

“For the last time, Edna, nobody gives a shit about your nasty lasagna. You don’t even have hands to cook it!”

“But I can give her instructions —”

“Grandma Eleanor?” Sarah shakingly asks, eyes wide with shock.

“Yes, dear. It’s me.”

“But how?!”

“Well, this is my favorite object, you know. And I am dead.”

“But you can talk! Souls can’t talk!”

“Ah, yes. About that…”

“What she means to say is that these two old coots just had to take up an already occupied home!”

“It’s not like I knew you inhabited it in the first place, Stella. I would have chosen something else to be my most beloved thing, heaven knows that would have been more hospitable than what you’ve been!”

“But my ass, Edna —”

Grandma Eleanor cleared her throat, “It seems as though we all had the same favorite item. Of course, I could hear Edna and Stella before I died, but Edna couldn’t hear Stella because she was the only soul trapped here,” she explained.

“Must have been lonely, if you ask me.”

No, it wasn’t! Because I didn’t have a memory, Edna. And no one’s asking you.”

“She’s just a little pressed about being sentient again,” Edna reassured Sarah, “That’s why we’re sentient — because there are multiple souls trapped here.”

“So you haven’t been alone, Grandma Eleanor?” Sarah asked in a small voice.

“No dear, I haven’t,” she chuckled, “Though it would have been nice to have someone other than an amulet for company.”

“I’m sorry,” Sarah apologized. She could feel her throat closing up again.

“Hush, Sarah. You children gave me all the company in the world. I couldn’t ask you to give me anymore, not when you had your own families to build.”

“But —”

“I won’t have it any other way. You know that, Sarah.”

Sarah sighed, “I still should have come around more often.”

“Well,” Grandma Eleanor’s voice sounded, “I can’t argue with that. But you’re here now.”

“The question,” Stella started, uncharacteristically serious, “Is whether or not you’re going to bring us with you.”

“Bring you with me?”

“Yeah. If I have to stay in this damn house for one more minute I swear I’m going to lose it!”

Sarah chuckled, “Okay,” she said, “I’ll bring you with me.”

“Thank the lord!”

“Do you have an oven?” Edna asks.

“Why on earth would she not have an oven, Edna?”

“Well, it can be impractical for some. And expensive. You know, when Daniel and I were married, we used to…”

“Thank you,” Grandma Eleanor tells her quietly over her companions’ bickering.

“For what?” Sarah asks. As far as she knows, she hasn’t done anything. Sure, she might have found a talking amulet with three tapped souls, but that doesn’t mean she deserves thanks. Not when she hadn’t even bothered coming before, back when three souls were two.

Sarah can almost hear the smile in Grandma Eleanor’s voice when she speaks next, “For coming home.”

And in the distance, beyond a darkened attic of an odd neighborhood, trees continue to dance and birds continue to sing and people continue to gossip, but even still, light finds its way through.

Even still, the old corner house on Baker’s Street stirs.

And perhaps that’s to say it was never dead in the first place. Just waiting — waiting for the chance to awaken.

“Sarah, dear,” A voice suddenly says.

“Yes?”

“Would you like some lasagna?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

*****

THE END.