The Old Valise

Frank was a learned, postmodern man who aspired during most of his life to live in calmness, tranquility, and peacefulness. He loved synonyms. This sweet, kind, middle-aged man spent most of his time in the library reading any book that contained some kind of wisdom. As a librarian, he had access to a large quantity of books, old and new, ancient and modern. His quest for knowledge accompanied him to several kingdoms. Besides the English, he traveled to the French, Spanish, Russian, German, Italian and Portuguese realms of literature. Although it nourished him with great joy, he felt that time was pressing, suffering immensely from an acute fear of death. There was so much more material to measure, and literature was literally legionary.

Frank’s father, Paul, his only family in the world, was dying from the very ancient process of aging. He preferred to die at home in the comfort of his own bed than be dependent upon the rituals of a hospital. Moreover, there was something extremely important that he had to tell his son before his demise, and he wanted to be in his house to utter his words. Frank felt helpless in view of his father’s approaching departure. The good, old, dying man was going to disappear very soon forever. The physician had spoken to him about Paul’s condition. “I’m afraid there is very little I can do for your father. He is quite old, and his body cannot hold on for very long. He may leave us any time now. I’m very sorry. I will return tomorrow. Good-by!” Frank was deeply saddened, but he realized that it was the normal course of life and that he would go through it himself. This fact also scared him, for he had never accepted the end of life, especially if one was still willing to live.

Paul was very pale when he called for his son. “Frank!” he said. “I am going to die very shortly, but before I embark on my last destination I have to show you something very important. It had been given to me by my own father who received it from his father. It goes back to a distant time, and now it is yours to have and to keep. However, since you have no offspring to leave it to before you die, you will have to take it down with you to your grave.” “What is it, Father?” cried Frank. “What are you talking about?” “Go, my son! Go to the attic of the old barn! You will find it there; an old valise. Don’t try to unlock it! It should never be opened! It contains something evil. Thus, told me your grandfather. A terrible thing will happen to you if you open the old valise, a dreadful calamity.”

Frank had never gone to the old barn before, let alone its attic, and it took him some time to find it. There was no window nor light to illuminate it. Darkness ruled like a rabid dictator. He had to rely on a flashlight to guide him through the deep obscurity of the old barn's attic. The smell of decay was all around him, and objects seemed too old to be identifiable. He found the old valise resting on something that in a distant past may have been a chair. The old valise was faded black like a last night, extremely light as though it was empty, and locked.

“Remember my warning if you want to grow old!” said Paul to his son before he died. “Don’t forget my words, Frank!” Frank put the old valise back where he found it, but every day went up to the old barn's attic to examine it with his deepest fear. His father’s words tolled in his aching mind, beginning to haunt him. In its shape and material, the old valise did not offer any solution to the mystery of its contents. Its existence was evident, but he doubted its power. Yet, he did not possess enough courage or will to unlock it and discover its secret.

Frank began to lose his joy of reading, and all his realms of literature started to crumble. He got in touch with his dear, old friend, William Trustworthy, needing someone to confide in and help him, and Trusty was the only friend he thought was capable of aiding him. He was a successful lawyer who demanded only one thing from his clients: honesty. Frank knew that Trusty would dismiss the power of the old valise, but he sensed that his friend was puzzled by it. The fact that it came from Paul, a man he respected and was fond of, threw Trusty in doubt. However, his disbelief in the supernatural or whatever it was, changed his disposition. He was sure that the secret of the old valise was mere illusion, pure fantasy, ancient superstition, a religious device to keep the fear of death in Frank’s family, and if necessary, to enforce in them the belief in God.

“Let’s open it!” said Trusty to Frank. “Let’s destroy the myth! Let’s free you from this nonsense!” “No!” urged Frank. “Don’t open it! There is something else we can do. We have to try everything we can think of before attempting to unlock it.” “What do you have in mind?” asked Trusty. “I was thinking of X-rays. It might solve this mystery one way or the other.” After noticing the expression on Frank’s face—fear and excitement holding hands—Trusty agreed.

One of Trusty’s close friends, a medical doctor, found the request to X-ray a valise very peculiar but went along with it. The procedure took place under Frank’s tight surveillance, and as expected by most parties—Trusty and the physician for two—it revealed nothing. Frank left the hospital with the old valise unopened. Curiously, it matched his clothes and his facial expression. His father’s death had changed him drastically. It had put him in direct contact with his deepest fear.

Frank gave his two weeks notice at the library, having decided that from then on, wisdom will have to come from him. Furthermore, he modified his will, giving most of his fortune to various charities which he knew for sure to be worthwhile. He donated his home library, his treasure of wisdom, to the first library he had ever frequented. Having executed all the preliminaries, he was ready to unlock the old valise and destroy the ancient tradition. As his father had said, he had no progeny to leave it to, and the idea of it buried with him forever triggered in him grave restlessness. He asked Trusty, who appeared in a blink of an eye, to be present. Slowly but surely he unlocked the old valise.

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Trusty dedicated the rest of his life to helping people, whether they were rich or poor, for what he had seen happen when Frank opened the old valise changed his way of perceiving the world. He became a later-date saint.

When Frank unlocked the old valise, a hot breeze came out of it. He fell to the floor and lay there lifeless. The old valise closed itself, and the hot breeze seemed to have disappeared. Trusty’s astonishment and horror almost took him down to Frank’s level. He took care of all the arrangements for Frank’s funeral and made sure the old valise went down with him. Yet, one morning when he was looking in his attic for things to give away, he found it resting on an old chair.

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This old valise may not be unique. One may find a similar one lying somewhere; perhaps in an old barn's attic.