Untitled Part 2

I climbed slowly and I heard the creak of the ceiling beams as she paced the floor above me. Carefully, I stepped off of the ladder and into the dusty attic.

It was pretty dark up there. The attic apparently ran the length of the house, so there was plenty of space sitting in shadow. Two small windows at either end served more to emphasize the darkness than to let in light, but I could see dust motes floating through the quiet air. For such a large space, it was surprisingly empty.

I thought it’d be full of old clothes and family heirlooms. I had expected to see boxes of old photo albums and discarded toys, but the attic was bare. The only thing I could see was a large old trunk sitting against one of the walls. It was under one of the windows and it looked spot-lit in the comparative darkness.

“Watch your step,” she said, gingerly moving across the beams. “No one’s been up here for a while and I don’t know how stable the floors are.”

“Ok,” I said, following as she made her way toward the trunk. “Why are we up here?”

“You’ll see.”

She settled on her knees in front of it and looked up, waiting for me.

I sat down gingerly next to her. Now that I looked closer at it, I saw that it was older than I thought. The leather casing looked beat up and scarred with age, like an old sailor. I couldn’t imagine what it looked like when it was new, but that must’ve been long before I was born. Probably long before Anna’s parents were born too.

“They’ve always kept this up here,” she told me quietly. “They don’t even know that I know where it is. And they’ve never shown me what’s in it.”

“Do they talk about it?” I asked. “Have they mentioned what’s in here?”

She shook her head and light from the one small window glimmered on her dark hair.

“They pretend it isn’t here, but I know it’s important,” she said.

She paused for a moment and her breath seemed loud in the quiet space. I saw a tear roll down her brown cheek as she spoke again.

“It’s more important to them than I am,” she said.

She threw open the brass latch and pressed her small fingers under the lid, lifting it back to rest against the wall behind it. The first thing we saw was cloth. I had expected her to dig through the box, rifling for the prize, so I was surprised when she gently lifted the first layer. The diaphanous cloth caught the light and I saw that it was a shimmery, sheer white silk. It looked like something that belonged on a wedding dress, not in a dusty old box in an attic. Slowly, she unwound layer after layer of white silk, until it looped around us like a cloud.

Finally, after the veils of silk were unwrapped, a box started to take shape. As she slipped off the last layer of silk, I saw that it was a jewelry box. She held it in her cupped palms and I could see that it wasn’t just any jewelry box. For one thing, it was studded with jewels. I don’t mean rhinestones or plastic. I mean jewels. Even in the semidarkness, I could see rubies and emeralds. Sapphires winked at me. I didn’t know exactly what Anna held in her hands, but I knew that it was special.

The jewels caught the light, holding it inside themselves. I could’ve sworn they glowed in the darkness. I almost couldn’t look away from them, my eyes caught in the dance of light. When I did look away, I saw the gold script on the box itself.

It must’ve been painted on, but it didn’t look painted. I couldn’t see the brush strokes and it looked as though the box had been born that way. Now that I think about it, the box didn’t even look as though it had been made. It looked as though it had been created or born, but not made.

The writing curled around the gems and I couldn’t make out the words, but I knew it wasn’t any language I could recognize. I squinted at the box as we both sat there in silence. For a moment, I could’ve sworn that the script was moving, that it was twining around the gems like a snake. I blinked and it was still again.

“It’s so beautiful,” I said.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It’s beautiful. But I want to see what’s in it.”

Balancing the box in one hand, she pulled the hinged lid back with the other. Inside, on a bed of dark velvet, lay a small red bottle. She pulled it out and it sat neatly in the palm of her hand. In the light, the bottle shifted between red and silver, with a cork stopper keeping it sealed. There was nothing written on it, no decorations or instructions. Just the tiny red bottle on its own, glimmering in the half-light.

“Ok,” I told her. “You saw what’s in the box. Now you should put the bottle back.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“I know you’re mad at them, and you should be,” I said. “I mean, as parents go, they’re pretty crappy … But I don’t know.”

I stayed silent for a moment as I watched the light play across the silver-red bottle. She waited for me to speak.

“Something about this doesn’t feel right,” I said. “Maybe we don’t want to know what’s in there.”

“Maybe you don’t want to know,” she said. “But I do.”

She placed the jewelry box on the floor in a nest of silk and held the bottle up to the light. She smiled at me conspiratorially before she pulled the plug.

The flash of light caught me unprepared and knocked me backward. All I can remember seeing is that blinding flash of white light and seeing the look of horror on her face before she was gone.

I rubbed my eyes, blinking in the glare, but when I was able to see again, she wasn’t there.

A woman I didn’t recognize filled the space like a storm cloud.

With caramel-colored skin, bright white teeth and striking dark eyes, she was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen but also the most terrifying. She was tall and dominated the space, her loose silk scarlet dress flowing around her like water.

And the laughter was the worst. She looked me right in the eyes and her throaty chuckles tore at my ears like a windstorm.

“Freedom, at last!” she cried. “Finally, someone foolish enough to open that bottle!”

I was awestruck and I couldn’t have run even if the thought had occurred to me.

“Thank you little one,” she said, smiling a terrible smile. Suddenly, her teeth reminded a little too much of fangs, stark white against crimson lips.

She looked down and laughed again. The bottle was now lying on the floor, rolling between the rafters and she nudge it with a bare brown foot.

“Thank you for all you have done,” she said, before she turned and leapt through the window.

I rose shakily among the shards of broken glass and looked out the window, careful not to cut myself. I expected to see a bloodied woman lying on the ground but she wasn’t there. Bewildered, I scanned the surrounding area, only to see a large scarlet bird flying away into the distance.

Where was Anna? She’d disappeared when the horrible woman had appeared, but where had she gone? People didn’t just disappear, did they?

“Anna!”

I called her name uselessly into the empty space.

“Where are you?” I yelled, feeling foolish and scared.

I sat back down on the floor and I could feel the tears welling behind my eyes when I heard it. It was a small sound, of glass rolling against wood. And as I looked down, I saw it. The little red bottle was rolling around on its own. I picked it up carefully.

There inside it, staring back at me, was a miniature Anna. Her long dark hair was disheveled and her eyes were wide with terror. Her tiny fists beat against the glass and although I couldn’t hear her, I knew she was screaming for help.

What was I supposed to do? Let her out?

Somehow, I knew that wasn’t the answer. I didn’t know why, but I somehow I realized that uncorking the bottle had released that terrible woman, unleashed her on the world. Uncorking the bottle would mean setting Anna free, but I would be trapped in her place and I had no desire to spend the rest of my life in a small glass vial. But I knew I had to get her out. I just couldn’t do it by myself.

It was time for Mr. and Mrs. Chitral to do some explaining.

Holding the little red bottle gently in my hand, I made my way downstairs.