My Dearest Daughter

As a child, my mother used to tell me that life always gifted surprises. Whether they were good or not was not up to us, that responsibility landed upon life. At times, life was not forgiving with the gifts she gave. I never understood the true extent she could go until I stood in front of my burning home. The blaze devouring all the life within my home, my families cries long quieted by the fumes. My once flowing tears dried up by the heat, the golden glow it casted upon my melanated skin  now darkening it with its ash.

"Aretta." A familiar disembodied voice speaks up beside me, my eyes which were locked onto the ruin of my home direct themselves up to my neighbor, Ronan. His tousled raven hair making him appear lower than his status and his tired eyes looking down at me with uncertainty.

"Not much was left but, we found this box. It's locked, you must take it to a lock smith or break it open. " His hands extend to me, in them is a simple polished wooden box the size of a large book and a small golden diamond key hole. My hands slowly rise up from there position by my side and take the warm box into my hands. "The Coroner will come and take care of the bodies, you can come and stay with my mother and I in our home for the time being.". My fingers tighten around the edge of the box and I look back up towards my ruined home, men  stood around in the ash. All of them speaking to one another and then looking back to me, my hearts swells and I push myself off the floor and look away from them.

"Okay." I finally speak, my voice breaking as it finally fills the air. Ronan places his hand on my back and guides me to his home, only two doors down from mine. His mother, Mrs.Moore stood tall and her fingers fidget with one another as she waited for us. When she spots us her eyes round and she rushes down her stairs, picking up her brown dress as she goes down. "Aretta! Oh thank goodness you are alright." Her arms wrap around me and pull me in close, her embrace shattering my heart and at an instant I buried my face into her shoulder. My tears flowed out and dripped onto her long puffy sleeves.

"I am so sorry, It will all be okay." Mrs. Moore comforted. However I could not comprehend how it could be okay. My Parents are gone, my younger sister and little brother are gone. I have been left alone in this world despite all the friends and neighbors,I'm alone. "Come now dear, let's get you inside. Are you hungry?". Wiping the tears off my face I shake my head and hold the box close.

"No, if you do not mind I'd like to sleep. I will have a lot to do these following days." My voice becomes taunt as I admit that I will have to personally go to the coroner to discuss which funeral home i'd like my family to go to. "Of course, come to my room. You can take a night gown and rest in one of the guest rooms. Whichever you prefer.". "Thank you Mrs. Moore.".

She directs me up the dark spiraling stairs, the deep brown stairs matching the color of her floors. That's all I see as I head to her room, my eyes couldn't bear to look up at her walls and see her family photos. I couldn't endure it, not today.

My mind is so filled with trying to focus on the floor that Mrs.Moore's voice was the one thing that made me realize where we were. "Here, this is the smallest size I have. It should fit you." Confused I look up and see Mrs. Moore extending a white night gown to me. The slight wrinkles on her face becoming more prominent as she smiles warmly down at me.

"Oh, thank you." Taking the gown I place it over the box so it covered it, "Rest well, I'll make sure not to cause you too much trouble.". "Oh you are never trouble Aretta, your mother was a god friend of mine. This is the least I could do.". That's right, they were friends. As I leave her room and head into a guest bedroom down the hall my mind is filled with memories from when I was much younger. I sat with my mother and Mrs. Moore at a table that is set in Mr. Moore's study.  A silver tea set with leaf like designs pressed into it, they both enjoyed that tea set.

I'd try my best to copy my mother, drinking tea very slowly and listening to every word Mrs. Aretta said. We'd come here so often, this house felt so warm then. Arriving at the guest room, i open the door and see the simple room. A large bed with white sheets, a desk on the opposite side of the room and a small table with a chair beside the window. It's simple, but enough.

I set the box on the bed and change into the gown, retreating into the comfort of the sheets I stay curled up under them and just stare at the box that I placed to my side. How could a simple box survive an entire house blaze? Everything became ash and yet here is this box. My brows pinch down and I turn away from the box, I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my face. If this box is here so is my family, there is no possibility that they are gone. All of this is just a bad dream that i'll wake up from soon.

I stay under the covers a while longer before I finally relax and listen to the birds singing outside, there sweet song enchanting me into the oblivion of slumber. I don't have a dream, no burning recollection of the fire enters my mind. Just peaceful silence, the peace was almost convincing that nothing had gone wrong.

As my eyes open up, they take a moment to adjust to the dark room barely lit by the suns emerging rays. With the lack of light I believe i'm in my room, the realization of this made me shoot up from the bed and look around. Expecting to see the book cases that cluttered my room and the vanity my father had bought for me on my fourteenth birthday. Except, all i see is a simple desk and the table by the window, the empty chair accompanying it.

Unconvinced that I wasn't in my home I look to my left for the box, hoping to not see it beside me. But it is, slightly covered by the blankets, making it appear as if it were sleeping alongside me.

My stomach churned at the sight, I am in Mrs. Moore's house. I am not home. My understanding of this makes my heart dull, the bed no longer being comfort I slip out from beneath the sheets and frantically look around for my dress.

Despite the green dress being dirty I work to put it back on so I could leave the house. I had to find the nearest Lock smith or fellow that will break this box open for me. I need to know why this was the only item to survive and the only way to do that is finding out it's contents.

Careful to not make any noise I open the door to my room and check the halls before walking down them,careful to not make any noise on the stairs and as well with the door I successfully make it out the house. The cold wet air and clouds covering the sky suggesting that this day will have rain.

Rain, how ironic. Does God sense my gloom? Does he bring this rain just to wash everything away?

I press my lips together and my brows sink, pondering on the thought on where a lock smith could be. I have never been to one before. Walking down the stairs and turning to my right I decide i’d figure it out on my way. The streets are nearly empty, young female servants opening windows to let out dust and a man barely opening up his coffee shop.

The streets so clean and silent, as if they are taking there time of peace for the dearly departed. My arms squeeze around the box and I stride forward, walking down the street until I am able to spot a young man speaking to and elder man in front of a shop. The cart in front of the two full of barrels, and the brown horse to which the cart is connected to stands tall. Patiently waiting for its owner.

The young man speaking to the elder shakes hands with him and turns away to head off, compared to elder who is posh and is wearing fitted clothing, the young man is wearing suspended trousers and worn leather foot wear.

My eyes round and I head forward toward the cart. “Excuse me!”. The man looks over his shoulder as I yell out. “Pardon me, but I need help. Do you know of a way to open this box?” I extend the box forward and the man steps away from his horse to look down at it. “Have you tried a Lock smith?” He questions. “No, I don’t know where one is. I was hoping you could break it open, without damaging what could be inside.”

The man studies the box before turning away and reaching into his cart, from which he obtains a crowbar from. “ That I can, please, step back.”

Taking the box from my hand the man places the box on the floor and steps on it for support as he places the curved part of the crow bar in between the two parts of the box. He begins chipping away at it due to the small space between the parts before he lodges the crowbar in fully and begin to pry it open. Steady at first before using brute force to pop it open.

I flinch at the sound of the lock breaking, the man steps back and let’s out a tired exhale. “That’s quite a lot of money, better close that box back up before anyone steals it.”

He turns away and I rush forward, falling to my knees as I see the nearly endless amount of dollars rolled in the box, some spilling out to due the brute force that opened its protection.

As my eyes scan the contents in the box I notice a black item beneath it all. Curious,I take it out from under the money and find that not only money resided in the box but a small paper bound book. It’s black cover feeling like velvet again my fingers.

“What is this?”. I ask myself as I open the book and come to realize that this book is indeed a diary. My mothers diary.

My eyes scan the writing, fluid and even, all perfect calligraphy. As I read the first page, I begin to hear the voice of my mother.

“My Dearest Aretta, if this box has come into your possession than i’m afraid the worst has happened. I always knew the day would come when our home becomes a necropolis of sin. All of us gone, except for you. I write this to explain to you why this has happened, along with this explanation I leave you twenty thousand dollars to take care of yourself. My dear, you are in more danger than you think. Take this money and leave town, trust no one my dear. Not even family.”