Continued…

Years ago, when we explored the attic, the trunk had always been locked. My grandfather had installed an antiquated metal monstrosity to keep the contents secured. Of course, that only made us more curious.

Now, in the present, with the lock no longer installed, I hesitated. I was still trespassing, after all. Would my grandfather's ghost suddenly appear and tap me on the shoulder? I shrugged off the feeling, then raised the lid.

For some reason, a profound sense of sadness came over me. It's a difficult thing to explain. A forgotten, but lively force seemed to have resurrected itself and encircled both of my hands. A slight movement in the air caressed my face, just as a cloud of sweet-smelling pipe smoke drifted through the room.

I took a few steps backwards. "This can't be happening," I said out loud, raising my arms above my head. "It's not real." A branch tapped on the glass of the only window found in the space. A light, but insistent tapping. "Oh, come on. This only happens in the movies."

I stood in the middle of the room until things quieted down. It could have been two minutes. It could have been ten minutes. Walking back to the open chest, I realized the scent of tobacco had totally disappeared. The air had no sense of life to it. I looked down into the almost empty wooden box. I had to remind myself that my grandfather had always been a practical, and in no way, a sentimental man. I couldn't help myself. I had to touch it, just to see if it was real. The softness and warmth of the fabric told me it was made of cashmere. The fringe meant it was a shawl. A piece of black satin ribbon lay sprawled across the loosely folded and tan-coloured fabric which swaddled a small handgun.

I had never seen my grandmother wear a shawl like that and the guns my grandfather used on a regular basis were rifles. When you had livestock, you had to be able to scare away wolves and end the lives of bone-breaking groundhogs.

A rose bud had been placed to the side, resting on the wooden base of the box. Before I realized what I was doing, I touched one of the thorns. Even after all those years, the thing still had some bite to it. I had to stick my finger in my mouth when my blood began bubbling. Intuition whispered to me that things would not go well if I allowed some of my blood to ruin that cashmere shawl.