A tiny pink figurine Dressed with lace wings A skirt around her thin waist And pink shoes like a bean

A teddy bear with overalls Two twin buttons blue Two eyes and a grin Saying hello to you

And old plate of copper with a date So rusted you can’t see the shiny face A regal man and a house Smaller than a mouse

A thin silver wire A gem that never tires Reflecting despite the dark A flying bold meadowlark

A handwritten note, marked for a friend A stamp on the side, a message never sent Yellow parchment paper and a red seal Loopy handwriting with much appeal

A story unfolds before your eyes Of a time before when lovers cried Sent off into the vast unknown Leaving one stuck, alone at home

The story starts out long ago A little girl all alone A girl you recognize Through black and white size

No guidance throughout childhood Only a stuffed bear A tiny little fairy And dreams not shared

She grew up solo Going into life unsure That’s when she met someone Who made her feel like her

Two met, and all bloomed A necklace given, the blue softly jeweled Worn everyday From the moment he was sent away

Held on tight to the small treasures They would make it to the end together Finally all are sent back to town Two reunited, each other they found

A letter that was never needed to be sent Sat in the closet, never ending suspense A ring sealed the deal, and all is history A man, a woman, a war, no mystery

What an astonishing day it has been! I woke up feeling very woozy,until I saw a glistening old chest beside me. I was about to open it when my mom shouted “Willie!”.It is already eleven o’clock and you’re still sleeping” .Go down right now and eat your breakfast!’ I quickly rushed down the stairs and sat down on the chair.In a lightning speed I finished my breakfast and went back to my room to open the chest.Then I realized that the chest is gone.I started searching around the room but just couldn’t find it.I then thought that it could have been vanished,when my grandmother walked through the door carrying the mysterious chest that I was looking for.I sprinted through the corridors and chased up my grandmother.Nicely I asked Grandma “Can I please take a look inside the chest?’’Sure’.said grandma as she gave me the baffling chest.’You can have it If you want’.said grandma’Yes,Thank you” I said excitedly.I went back to my room and sat on my bed.Curiously I opened the chest,and saw a magic wand.At first I thought it was only a toy from my grandma’s childhood until I saw that there is a button on the magic wand.Slowly I pressed on the button,a monstrous and invisible ghost came out from nowhere and said’I’m one of the greatest wish granters god has put on earth’.And suddenly started leading me,when I saw a opened door and he told me to go in.As I saw billions of people playing joyfully around the equipments as I was about to join in the crowd,’WILLIE!Wake up now!’And I realize it was just a remarkable dream.

-Willie

Mommy and Isabella were in the attic. They were looking for old clothes for the church jumble. Well Mommy was looking. Isabella was helping by wearing an old lady fur coat and a Sunday hat and dancing.
“Careful Izzy!” Mommy shouted as Isabella fell backwards. Kissing away the tears, Mommy lifted her from the floor. “What’s dis?” Isabella turned to glare at the box that tripped her. Slowly Mommy started to back away. Isabella wriggled from Mommy’s stiff fingers. “It’s a princess treasure chest.” Mommy stood in the corner while Isabella explored the chest with tiny eager fingers. It was humped lidded wicker basket with leather straps. A pink ribbon on one strap had a tag that said something Isabella couldn’t read except for her name. “Is it for me?” “Leave it. Just leave it.” Mommy sounded funny. “It’s mine, mine.” Isabella fumbled with the tight buckles. “Help me get it open. Please mommy.” Isabella turned but mommy wasn’t there. She turned back to her treasure chest and the buckles were loosened. Inside her chest, there was a letter with pretty looping words. With her Sunday hat askew, Isabella studied the letter carefully upside down and then tossed it. Next were lace trimmed squares of fabric with pretty flowers made of thread. She swirled the cloths in the air before tossing them aside. Isabella pulled out a heavy silver mirror with a crack. Gently Isabella set it beside her. Beneath the mirror there was a white leather book with whisper thin pages and a gold cross on the cover. Her name was on the inside cover but there were no pictures. The little girl tossed the boring book behind her. A crystal perfume bottle with a real squeezy thing was in her treasure chest. Isabella pretended to spray the empty bottle and put on imaginary makeup in the broken mirror. Somehow the little treasure chest seemed bigger on the inside. Isabella next took out a bundle of tissue paper. Gently and then less gently Isabella torn at the paper. It was a dolly, a boy doll. He worn a navy suit with an ivory frilly shirt and an indigo velvet ribbon tie. He was porcelain with shiny blond hair, a serious face, and the most beautiful grey blue eyes with real lashes. Isabella loved him instantly. She hugged him hard enough to break him. The doll didn’t break. Isabella ran downstairs to show off her treasure. At dinner Mommy and Daddy were not really talking to each other. Instead they are pretending to be polite and spelling things to each other. Isabella talks to her new friend whispering in his perfect ear. At bedtime Mommy made Isabella put the doll in the downstairs closet to keep it safe. Mommy tucked Fluff Bunny, Blake the Tiger, and Mr. Teddy into Isabella’s bed and told her endless bedtime stories. Through the vents Isabella woke to Mommy and Daddy loud talking. Mommy was mad because daddy had promised he threw away a box and daddy told mommy to grow up and something about mommy’s mother. Next there were bad words. Isabella fell asleep to the soft sounds of crying. “ Izzy, quit running up and down the halls and go to bed!” Daddy yelled waking Isabella from a sound sleep. Confused she turned to hug Fluff Bunny’s hard body. In the morning Isabella woke up to her new doll nestled in her arms with a smile on his face. She smiled back. “Good morning Eric.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, not noticing the writing in mommy’s lipstick across her dresser mirror. Yawning she headed down to breakfast.

“Come on, open it!”

Aster stayed where they were (sat cross-legged on Evie’s desk) as their siblings crowded around the old box, watching the four of them closely. They didn’t really belong in this moment, one that was sure to be of fictitious reminiscing of days never experienced and a time for a generation to think about a vaguely romanticised past.

So they watched as Evie pulled out what seemed like a dress, the layered skirt swishing while she laughed and spun around with it held to her chest. A slightly faded (very, very slightly) blue, which Aster found slightly strange given their grandmother’s hatred of blue, but it was pretty enough. And tastes changed, right?

“Look, there’s a matching one!”

Rose lifted up an identical dress, except for the colour — this time a brilliant crimson, red as Rose’s namesake — and held it up to herself in the same way Evie had done with the blue.

“It’s Mum’s, then,” Aster guessed. “Or one of them is… you said she had a twin, right?”

“Nah, they’d belong to our aunties,” Evie corrected. “Maybe this blue one did belong to Mum, though — it seems like it’s a bit older.”

“They can’t be that old.”

“Maybe the chest is magic?” Nathan shrugged, chiming in for the first time.

“Can’t be!” Evie laughed.

Aster wasn’t quite so sure, though.

The dresses were tossed onto Evie’s bed without much more thought, and Nathan took his turn to find something.

“Ow!” he yelped after a moment, pulling his hand out much quicker than he had stuck it in. “There’s like, a needle in there!”

“God, are you bleeding?” Aster winced, scrambling off the desk to take a closer look. “That’d be an old needle… oh, that probably isn’t good.”

“Aster, can you give us a light?”

They sighed, pulling out their phone to shine its flashlight into the chest.

With the extra light, it was easy to find the source of Nathan’s injury — an old rag doll, looking strangely familiar to the second-eldest of them.

Aster gasped involuntarily as they noticed the pin sticking out of its left eye, followed quickly by Evie and Rose.

“What the fuck is that?” Evie breathed, forgetting her role as the responsible older sister for a split second.

“That’s a bad word, Evie,” Grace said, and the four older children all gave a shaky laugh as a response.

Inside, however, nobody felt like laughing.

I walk out my front door on a sunny Sunday morning. Expecting just my usual mail I take a step outside. Only to find a wooden worn down chest And a note with delicate handwriting set on top of it. I recognize that handwriting. My grandma Lucile. She had passed a few weeks prior. I pick up the note to read “My sweet honey bee if you’re receiving this I have passed on. Inside this chest you will find some of my most sacred possessions. I hope you find joy in carrying a piece of me with you. Sincerely, Lucile”. With peeked interest I kneel down and take the chest into both my hands making sure not to get any splinters from the aging wood. I walk inside my home accompanied by a rather playful greeting from my poodle Gregory. Shimming my way past Gregory I enter my hallway on the way to my bedroom. I step into my bright pink bedroom. The walls still painted the same color from when I was a kid. My grandmother Lucile actually helped me pick the color out. Setting the chest onto my fluffy white comforter I sit beside it on the edge of my bed. Fidgeting with the clasp I was finally able to get the chest open. The first thing i see is something I would always play with when I’d go to my grandmothers on the weekend. An orange cat figurine. One day while playing with the figurine I accidentally let it slip outta my hands onto my grandmother Lucile’s hard wood floors. I remember that night she spent hours with me helping me glue it back together. She knew how much I loved it. As I sat there looking at the cracks still visible on the cat. running my thumb along them I found myself starting to tear up. Wiping the tears from under my Eyes I continue to look through the chest. I found my grandmothers first pair of pearl earrings shes ever received. Her mother gave them to her after she graduated. They were still just as shiny as I remember. She always wore them. Everyday. Rummaging through some more. I found her wedding ring. She always used to tell me if I were to ever get married she would want me to Use her ring. It was a beautiful rose gold ring with a tear drop diamond in the middle and little round diamonds lining the band. After taking another glance I realize there’s nothing else in the chest. I close it and keep it in my closet for safe keeping. The next morning after a thought filled night with barely any sleep. I get up and go into the closet to retrieve my grandmothers pearl earring from the chest. I go into the bathroom after putting them on and admire the way they shine while recalling all the times she’d wear them. From that day on I have worn them everyday.

The autumn sun is sending Low golden rays through the scarcely leafy walnut tree that has been standing in front of my grandparents’ old house for as long as i can remember, and based on the old black and white photographs of my granddad as a young man, from before his time. The warm glow made the doorknob pleasantly warm to the touch. For a handle that has not been turned in years, the metal is still surprisingly shiny and clean. The same could not be said for the keyhole. The past 15 minutes has seen me sweatingly trying to jam in a large, chunky key. I almost resign and start considering breaking a dirty window when the keyhole finally surrenders and the old key turned. At a gentle push, the old wooden door creaks open and the musky smell of an unaired house overwhelms my senses.

A quick look around confirms everything is still in the place I remember since the last time I’ve been here, as a teenager. A small kitchen with a dining table to the right, a little living room with a fireplace, in front of which I used to leave my teddy bear so he wouldn’t get cold in the winter.

The survey of the downstairs reveals no major damage to the structure of the little house, and if any animals have since taken residence in it, they have been taking care of their new home well. I quickly look at my watch. I still have about half hour before my mum and uncle Paul arrive with the van, giving me time to go upstairs. The stairs are creaky and shaky, however, I remember them creaking and shaking every night I had to quietly go to the loo, even as a small eight year-old. The house was from a time toilets were still built on the outside, so I always had to leave the house and walk to the back of it to reach the little hole. I remember the time when one of this night loo trips resulted in me finding a batch of newly born puppies cuddled up into their mother’s fur in the warm corner of wheat that was being used to cover up the number twos.

By the time i safely reach the upper landing, I left behind the warmly sunlit downstairs. Fewer windows light up the upper floor, and they are closed shut with wooden panels. I use the torch on my phone to look around and try to retrace the rooms on this floor. There are only three rooms up here, but as a child, I only ever spent time in one. Quickly opening the first door on my right shows a room much tinier than I remember. If it weren’t for the little writing desk in the corner and the window looking at a field behind the house, I would not have remembered this being the room I had spent so many summer nights in. I know what I am looking for is not here, so I close the door again. I consider my other two choices - my grandparents’ room and what used to be uncle Paul’s room but was now used as a store room. I quickly walk past the staircase and reach the store room. Opening the door sends a pile of dust directly into my mouth. The room is pitch black, not just because of the shut windows but because of boxes, crates, disintegrating bags and other objects. I panic. It would take me days if not weeks to rummage through all of it to find it. Mum and Paul are on the way and I knew of their plan to load all of the boxes and bags into the van and take them directly to the tip without even opening them.

I think back to what my grandma whispered to me during my last visit, barely audible through the beeping of her breathing machine. “They’re important. They are wrapped and should still be whole. They’re in the red chest.” I look around the large store room again. Most of the paint from the wooden boxes has since peeled off, and in the dim light of my phone torch, even the colours still there look oddly distorted. I think again. Something that important would not be kept here, with boxes of old clothes, curtains, blacksmith tools and pots. I reverse my steps, go past the staircase again, past my old bedroom, and stand in front of my grandparents’ bedroom. Whilst I had never stepped in before, I remember standing in front of them many times, listening to sounds, from drunken arguments to whispers to prayers. I carefully try to open the door, but it hatches. My phone lights up with the text message from my mum letting me know that they are just pulling into the village. I turn sideways and crash into the door with my shoulder. The door breaks, but as the house is going to get torn down soon, I do not care. The window pane here is open, so the room is lit brightly. The room is almost empty. An old wardrobe on my left is smaller than me now. A tiny bed in the centre of the room still has sheets on them. It is remarkable how two adults who despised each other were able to sleep in such vicinity. A table with a basin on it is just under the window. And there, underneath the basin in the chest, still bearing the remnants of cherry-coloured paint.

I quickly make my way towards it. Bending down, I pull it from under the table. The size of a one-person ottoman, it is heavier than it looks. Hadn’t i known what I was looking for, I would have assumed it was just a boxy seat; now, knowing it holds something precious to my grandma, I carefully examine it and try to find the opening. All sides seem flat, like a perfectly square box. I close my eyes and instead try to focus on the feeling in my fingertips. Feeling the smooth sides of the box, my fingers finally latch on a couple of small holes, which, after pushing in, pop the top of the box. My excitement does not vane after I remove the top. To my surprise, I see folded white clothing, now eaten by moths, and underneath, a weaved basket. I know what this large basket is. It had been used by grandma during the war. She and other women from nearby villages would travel miles between towns on foot, through fields and forests, carrying produce and eggs on their had in woven baskets, and exchange them for fabric, soap, and coffee on the other end. Whilst some were caught by the militia, many successfully kept feeding families from these villages throughout the war. I get shivers down my spine thinking of stories my grandma told me. I realise how precious these objects are, but I still cannot see what grandma asked me for. Sliding my hand deeper into the contents of the box, I finally grab something that feels like a tin box. I carefully pull it out. It’s beautifully decorated, with black, red and silver flowers drawn on it. Just slightly larger than my palm, i open it and gasp. They’re wrapped in a plastic bag, but they are clearly letters. Dozens and dozens of letters. I carefully unwrap them and pull one out. The beautiful handwriting spells out my grandma’s maiden name. I can barely breathe whilst I open the envelope and pull out the yellowing piece of paper. My heart swells whilst my eyes read through beautiful lines that have been written to my grandmother over 70 years ago. The signature, “Yours forever, Katherina”, makes my eyes tear up. I almost miss the sound of the van pulling in front of the house. Carefully I put the letter back with the rest, and pack them all in my bag. Just before leaving the room, I take the weaved basket. Her history will not be forgotten.

Accepting the challenge the shadow tempts, I begin to open the old, wooden chest. The iron latches echo a satisfying click that bounce off the padded attic walls. It takes some of my strength to pray the chest open, but it opens. Well, the lid falls off and lands on the very dusty bed. The first thing I see is a note, a very formal looking note.

  Alice,

You are in danger. Hold on to this world as much as you can. Remember that happiness can be a mirage and it all can start with a single dress. Please, be safe and burn this chest. No one deserves to be tricked. -Your grandmother

Wow, great. I set the letter on the side of the chest and pulled out a wedding dress. All complete silk, little diamonds around the bust and the straps. And underneath the dress is a big, worn, leather book. I lift it up and it’s heavier than what I suspected. Flipping through the pages, there are photos of different women wearing the dress. At the end I see a picture of my grandmother, looking young and similar to me.

I find a mirror from an old vanity and lift the dress to my figure. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to try it on before I burn it, my mind convinces me. Stripping off my tank-top and jeans, I slip on the smooth dress. The straps cross on my back and the dress hugs my chest, maximizing their size. It’s a simple dress but it makes me feel like a person with power.

I walk back to the chest and it stretches out into a door. Probably shouldn’t walk in, but I think that as I walk through. There’s no floor and I fall down through the air. I notice dead grass coming into view from below me. Shit. The worries of death start to hit my head like hard rocks. I close my eyelids over my green irises to not dwell on the pain that’s about to come.

But I just float down to the ground gently, the grass makes a crackle as it cradles my head and with it my body. I just lay there, the relief of not being dead stunning me for an aftereffect. Then a man in black appears, bending over my still-bound body. His gingered curtain bangs fly gently as the breeze gently whispers. His eyes like warm chocolate, like warm fire, like safety. His full lips curve into a smile and I sit up, causing a bit of a headache.

“You’re the one. I knew I’d find you and I did. I’ve been searching and I’ve got you here, right here, with me.” His voice is dark and soothing, but there’s happiness that coats over his mysterious outline. “We’d better get on with it, shouldn’t we?”

“Get on with what exactly? Where am I?” I make my voice sound like it holds power.

He lifts me to my full height, a foot below him, and pulls dead leaves and debris out of my deep brown strands. The roughness of his thumb oddly makes me feel warm as it creases my cheek. “We’re going to our house. I know it’s been a while. You picked it out, even though we had to redo practically everything.”

“I don’t-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My feet don’t make it far when I shuffle backwards before his hand goes around my wrist. “You must be confused with someone else.”

His eyes look deep in mine, searching, reading my irises like my life’s story is carved in them. I try to take another step, but his grip tightens around my wrist. Then, his face turns to realization, hard truth biting him in the face, and by the looks of it, in the heart. He begins to drag me off, ignoring my screams of protests. And the people we pass ignore my screams too, although the bow in the guy’s presence.

“You lived here, you fought me, we hated each other, but I lost my mind when the guy you were with hit you. We had crazy passion, we got a house, we were perfect. And now, you’re married to me.”

“WHAT!?” My brain hurts and I remember the hate, the passion, the love, the homey feel he gave me. It’s too much.

“You put on the dress. It’s an automatic marriage, via contract. Welcome to the inside of the chest.”

My grandmother’s old chest was her staple piece. The worn burgundy leather had begun to crack over the years, while the thin line of gold metal that framed the leather whispered its old age in a plea. Two solid and rusted locks held shut the massive lid in defiance to my incessant yanking and pulling as I tried to break open the chest with pure strength I had most definitely lacked as a child. As I sat alone, smelling the leather in front of the antique chest, I started to catch the faint cigarette smoke that always seemed to follow my grandmother around. Even after years of stopping the intolerable habit, the odor still persisted, filling my nose with a wince. If I closed my eyes, I could even hear her gruff and harsh voice filling the once lively room. “Get your grimy little hands off my chest, Grace,” she would tell me, always throwing me her infamous glare. But now, as I sit here, nestled into the small wooden chair, the seat cushions cracked and spilling stuffing out, that chest I had once been forbidden to touch was mine.
There was something eerie about the experience. So long, I had wondered what could possibly be so important, and now that I had it in arms reach, I didn’t know how to feel about it. Resting in the palm of my fist was a small rusted key. There was nothing special about it. Nothing was carved into it. It wasn’t glowing. It was just an old key. Taking a deep breath, holding in the puff of air for a few seconds too many, I released it. Sitting on my knees in front of the chest, I brought the key to the opening. It slid in with ease. Squeezing my stomach tight, I turned it with a flick of my writs. The click of the lock was so loud within the silent room as the tight lid of the chest slowly loosened. It was disappointing, to say the least. Something inside me was expecting fireworks or even a monster to come flying out, but the only thing I received was a cloud of thick dust itching my inner nose. With a sneeze, I grabbed the bottom of the lid before lifting it up with a slight tug. The hinges of the chest groaned in retaliation, angry at the disturbance. With one last deep breath, I looked down into the chest I had waited my entire life to see, my shoulders tight in anticipation. Only that wow factor never came as I stared into an almost empty box.
Slightly off-centered laid a photograph. Covered in a layer of dust, I internally winced as I reached down to grab it, my fingers turning an unattractive shade of grey as I did. In between my forefinger and thumb was a black and white photograph that seemed worn and tired, as if it had been through too much. The colors had begun to merge together, the picture faded and exhausted. The fragile paper in my fingers felt as if one wrong move would turn the photograph to ash, like soot from a fire, slowly falling through the air onto its final resting spot. Taking the time to analyze the image, my eyes fell upon a beautiful woman. Her hair rested beautifully on her shoulders, her curls sitting on her forehead in a display of perfection. A smile took over most of her face, straight teeth resting under plush lips that seemed a vibrant red, even in the grey photo. But it was her eyes that captivated me. The wide orbs stuck like a deer in headlights rested in the middle of her face. They were symmetrical by any means, but something about the peculiar look of them enchanted anyone who saw. She was beautiful. And that’s when I noticed it was her: my grandmother. This rare beauty was the same person as my harsh and rude grandmother, who used to smack my pointed elbows when they rested on top of her table. That bright smile was the same as the grim frown she gave everyone who passed. I snickered to myself in disbelief. That old bat didn’t want anyone to know she could smile.

Your grandmother gave you a chest of her old belongings and what you find in it fascinates you

An ancestor I barely know Left a chest inside my fibers Hid the key inside my own secrets Hummed whispers guide the clues

I’m only allowed one item at a time One family secret revealed I pull out a bone dry bottle She tells me what I know Keep it empty to survive

We close the chest together Locks changed for my safety We’ll meet together again Once I learn her name