To the grave.

Lord and Lady Elmsmere were proudly well-respected members of society, living the luxurious life in their quaint manor a few miles from London in the rich countryside of south-east England. With people serving their every needs it was no wonder they failed to notice the disappearance of their children as they hid away in their attic in amongst the covered portraits that were so big they reached the roof, spare funiture resided under dust sheets and boxes of old toys and documents stacked high leaving little room for them to play but they certainly didn’t mind.

Edwin and Celia Elsmere only entered the attic to search for the doll their father had snatched away from Celia one morning because she was “getting too old”. The age of fifteen didn’t seem that old but in Lord Elmsmere’s eyes that was the beginning the life of a young lady not a petulant child. Edwin who was only a year younger watched as his sister broke down into a series’s of tears and cries for the doll that she had worshipped for as long as he could remember and he was not going to stand for it. He took ahold on his sister’s dainty hand and led her up the countless of stairs until they found themselves in the attic, the doll resting against a box on the floor.

“Clementine!” Celia exclaimed and dove towards the doll, scooping it up in her arms and cradling it tightly.

Edwin stood tall and proudly at his successfulness, the reunion of his sister and her doll was certainly her his finest moment to date and he was omen hundred percent sure that she would love him forevermore because of it.

“Oh dear, oh dear!” Celia cried pitifully, “her flower, it’s all crumpled!” She pointed at the small rose that was pinned on the breast of the doll and turned to her brother. “How could father do this? It was such a pretty flower. She will never be the same without it!”

Edwin crouched down beside his sister and placed on hand on her back, “it’s okay, Cece-”

“How on earth is this okay, Edwin? It’s her signature flower, without it she simply is not Clementine!”

Edwin took his other hand and held it out in front of him. He closed his eyes and waited. Celia watched puzzled as her brother sat silently but gasped in amazement when red beans to spout from his finger tip. It flowed like the water in the fountain out in the courtyard and began to take shape as small petals. They moulder around each other forming the perfect little rose.

Once it was complete, Edwin’s eyes fluttered open and the corners of his lips curled. He laid the rose gently on the doll and close his eyes once more. A golden thread trickled out of his fingertip and sewed itself into the doll’s dress attaching the beautiful flower to its breast.

“Edwin Alexander Elmsmere, how did you possibly do that? It’s like magic. My oh my, Ed, it’s magnificent but... how?”

Edwin chuckled and shrugged his shoulder, “I haven’t the foggiest, Cece, I did it before when I tore my Sunday school trousers. I was afraid mother and father would tell me off so I closed my eyes and wished for them to be fixed. Next thing I knew thread flowed from my fingers and my trousers were as good as new.”

Celia gawped at her younger brother. It was as if he had two heads, she couldn’t believe her eyes or what she had heard. Her brother possessed a gift that she couldn’t have even dreamt he would have. Not only did he fixed her doll but he could do it at will; this wasn’t something that happened at random. How extraordinary!

“Edwin, do you... do you think I could do that?”

“I don’t know, Cece, I didn’t exactly know I could until it happened.”

“We have to tell mother and father-”

“Absolutely not! Have you not heard about what people do to those who aren’t normal?”

“Yes, they become famous! Ed, don’t you want to be famous?”

“No, Cece, they kill them. Nobody can know of this, not even mother and father. The gallows certainly don’t look like a fun time. I quite like life, if you must know. Promise me you won’t tell a soul about this.”

“But Edwin-”

“No! Celia, if you so happen to tell a single soul about what I can do it won’t be just the doll who falls down the stairs and breaks. Do you understand?”

Celia gulped loudly and nodded her head. She glanced at the doll then back to Edwin, “I shan’t tell a soul, I cross my heart.” She drew a cross over her chest and kissed her fingertip, placing it over her brother’s chest. “I’ll take this to the grave.”

“Take what to the grave?”

The two children snapped their heads to the doorway and fell silent. Edwin’s mouth dried up like the allotment during a drought and Celia dropped her doll onto her lap. Stood curious in the doorway was their father, his hands on his hip and a pipe hanging from his lips. “Well? Is nobody going to tell me? Or perhaps you’d like to tell me what you are doing up here and why you have that blithering doll?”

Celia and Edwin looked at each other but neither said a word. Edwin wasn’t sure if he could even form any words at this point, his mouth and throat alike were so dry! Celia’s lips quivered and he begged silently that she kept her promise.

Their father sighed and took a puff of his pipe. “Is nobody going to say something? Answer me!”

“Well...”

“What will you take to the grave?”