The empty space on the mantle was obscene. The photographs lovingly placed there amongst handmade Christmas ornaments, filled every inch of space except for the center, where an urn had rested only the night before.

Chuck stood there with his beer in his hand and could only stare. He wasn’t the type to stir the pot, especially with family. Navigating family issues was preferable to the mine fields he left behind, but not by much. He took another swig of beer.

“It just ain’t right.” He said to no one in particular. Nonetheless, his niece looked

up at him with inquisitive eyes. He didn’t look at her, just shook his head and walked away.

Now what could possibly posses a person to steal an urn? Surely, he couldn’t fathom any reason himself and he was loathe to bring it up. Accusing family of stealing was difficult enough when it was money or valuables, but to snatch the ashes of his grandfather? At least he could understand if it was something valuable but something priceless seemed well, wrong.

He didn’t know where his sister went wrong when it came to her kin. The girl, Toni wasn’t too bad. She mostly kept to herself, a quality he valued in people. She seemed to have a good enough head on her shoulders he supposed. Though he didn’t quite understand her style. A puffy jacket seemed overkill for April. That’s what teenagers do though. Confuse the older folks. Odd choices for clothing aside, she was a good kid.

The son on the other hand, well. The boy was cursed. It’s the same curse that ran in the family generations back. He’d seen it in his father growing up and heard stories of his father before him. Chuck managed to avoid the demon himself but he watched plenty of his men come back home just to lose to themselves on their own soil. It was a damn shame.

Still, Chuck was a man who believed in second chances. And sure enough the boy, Thomas, took to the program and worked the steps and turned his life around. He couldn’t imagine any reason for him to go and do something like that.

No, he didn’t think it was the children at all to blame here. It looked like he was going to have to have a sit down with his dear sister. He’d been avoiding her as best as he could while she was staying under his roof but it had to be addressed.

His bare feet were silent on the wooden floors as he made his way down the hallway. He passed by the photos documenting the lives of himself and his sister. Smiling faces that seemed to mock him in his misery.

When the house was passed to him in the will, he couldn’t bring himself to take down any of the photos. It didn’t seem right to him to redecorate. The house never felt like his. It always felt like coming back home to his parents house for the holidays.

He passed his childhood room, now more suitable to an adult man than a small boy. He passed his sisters room on the left, where Toni and Thomas were staying during the duration of their visit.

At the end of the hall was the French doors leading to the master bedroom. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the room his parents died in, so when Claudette and her family asked to stay with him, she and her husband took it for themselves.

He stood in front of the door and tried to bring himself to knock. It should be simple, just raise his hand and tap tap tap. But when he looked at the patch in the door where his father had left a hole after a few too many, he couldn’t bring himself to knock.

Was it really worth the trouble? The accusation and investigation? And for what? Some ashes? No, he imagined the shrill voice of his sister in the tone she used when she lied and he decided it wouldn’t be worth the confrontation. He just wanted to get through the holidays and go back to his life in peace.

If Claudette wanted to keep the urn for herself then that’s exactly what he would let her do. She was too young to remember the demons their father battled but Chuck remembered plenty. If she wanted to keep the remains of the man to herself so be it.