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“Stop that!”
Makayla giggled.
“Can we go now?” Donja whispered as the musty odor turned pungent, “there’s mice up here, I can smell them.”
“No, I want to see what’s in those boxes, and look, back there on the edge against the roof. There’s a big trunk. Come on,” she said, as she dropped to hands and knees. With the phone light firm between her teeth, she crawled, swiping at spider webs. Reaching the boxes, Makayla set the phone on the floor and wiped at the top of a box, dust particles floating in the light.
Donja sneezed.
Makayla shrieked. “You scared the crap out of me!”
“Thought you weren’t scared,” Donja sneered as she dragged a breath, her index finger under her nose.
“I put up a good front,” Makayla said dismissively, as she proceeded to open a large box.
Donja drew her head back all but expecting a horned demon with a maw full of teeth.
Silence followed with Donja waiting for a scream which never came. She exhaled as Makayla pulled out a couple of antique candelabras from the box.
“No way,” Donja gushed, suddenly enthralled, “those look like solid gold.”
“I think you’re right, they weigh a ton and there’s at least thirty or more in this box.” Makayla opened another box which contained golden chalices and antique silverware.
Curiosity stifled fear and Donja grasped a box and opened it. She dropped her hand softly touching what looked like an antique picture frame. She pulled it out of the box and realized there were others, stacked one upon another. In the dim light, she wiped at the cracked glass which revealed a woman, as best she could see who was dressed in a wedding gown standing on what looked like the front steps of Hampton Manor. A second frame revealed a different woman, also in a wedding gown outside what looked like an ancient, one room church.
“Look at this,” Makayla said as she held up hand drawn pictures on what looked like birch bark. Donja cast her eyes to the faded picture of a beautiful woman with braided hair, dressed in buckskin with beads. Makayla found others, at least ten or more, all of which were women of Indian descent.
“Chippewas?” Donja asked.
“Must be.” Makayla said.
Now shackled by curiosity, far outweighing her fear, Donja opened another box, the inside stuffed with newspaper. Beneath the packing she found a tattered book. She took it out and slowly opened it. “Hey look, it’s an old wedding album.” She turned the pages looking at picture after picture, but the lighting was dim, and she couldn’t make out the faces. Another box contained a wedding gown, so old that it crumbled like ashes when Donja touched it. Beneath the gown, she found a swatch of brown curly hair which had been cut from someone’s head and tied in leather. Examining it closely in the light, she noticed the letters L.C.N. etched on the leather.
“Let’s check the trunk,” Makayla said, crawling away on hands and knees.
Donja, debating which was more terrifying, to be left alone in the dark or to follow Makayla into the bowels of hell contemplated for about a second. She suddenly took off after her, expecting the worst was yet to come. She crowded in close, glancing around in the darkness as Makayla swiped at a layer of dust and spider webs atop the ornate chest with carved lion heads on the top. It was huge and all but monopolized one wall.
“It looks more like a casket than a chest,” Makayla whispered as she gripped the grooved edge and lifted on the lid. It creaked eerily and then with it halfway open, she flashed the trajectory of light inside.
“Just dirt with what looks like rotted clothing,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Donja asked peering inside. She sat back. “Why would someone take the trouble to build a hidden attic to store antique gold candelabras, pictures, a wedding album, a rotted wedding gown, a band of hair, and a trunk with two inches of dirt?”
“Maybe because it was their safe and maybe it’s not dirt in that trunk. Maybe it’s the remains of a body, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” Makayla said with a haunting voice.
“Phew! It stinks,” Donja stuttered.
Makayla closed the lid.
“Wow, I was just kidding but maybe it is a decomposed body.”
“Shut your mouth!” Donja blurted.
“Just saying,” Makayla retorted.
“I’m done,” Donja said, her teeth chattering. “I’m getting out of here.”
“Fine, but let’s take the album and the box of old pictures downstairs so we can get a better look. Dad can come up after dinner and get the gold, if that’s what it really is.”
