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Excerpt
“What is all this stupid shit?” I mumbled, pulling out moth-eaten linens, gaudy knick-knacks, and old, dusty books with strange symbols.
“Mementos of a life well-lived and well-traveled,” Elena replied as she rummaged through a box of shit I was sure was trash but she seemed to think was treasure.
I had to admit that Old Addie had seemed to be overly content with her life, even if she was a mean hag. She had regrets, just like any person, but she was happy and always talked about how “normal living” was underrated. Whatever the hell that meant. Looking around, nothing in my grandmother’s basement spoke to normalcy. Everything I saw only confirmed what I already knew: Old Addie was bat-shit crazy.
“The hell…” I pulled out a bag of rodent skulls, rodent skulls, from a beaten up box labeled “Safe Keepings.” Old Addie was looking battier by the second. With a sound of disgust, I tossed the bag aside.
“Now this is more like it.” My next find was a burgundy bowler hat complete with a ribbon and feather. I blew at some of the dust covering the hat, then slid it down over my ash-blonde pixie cut. I turned to show Elena, but she had been roped into an argument with my mom over what to do with some dishes they’d found.
Turning back, I grabbed my backpack and tossed the hat inside, already dreaming up an ensemble to go with it. Now eager to find more treasures, I dove back into the box. I found a ratty old purse, a busted speaker with no cord, and a cracked boomerang before I discovered the jeweled treasure buried at the bottom of the box.
It was a vase. No, it was more than a vase, but the hell if I knew what it really was. It was shaped like a vase, with a long, thin neck and a wide, round bottom. Colored jewels–real or not, I didn’t know–sparkled all along the rim of the vase’s opening and along the base. In between lay a network of tiny antique gears that all seemed to be connected in some way, like they could be powered to make the vase actually dosomething. After further inspection, I found a small key hole near the top of the vase’s neck, fueling my suspicions.
With a surge of excitement, I turned the dusty box upside down and shook it. Sure enough, a key dropped out and hit the cement floor with a tiny cling.
I grabbed the key up and tried it out on the keyhole in the vase. It was a perfect fit. I moved to turn it, but not wanting mom or Elena to try and claim my find, I held off. I didn’t know what would happen if I turned the key, and if it was something cool, or terrible, I wanted to be alone when it happened. So I shoved the vase in my bag beside the bowler and swore the second I was back at my place, I was turning that damn key.
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