The Locket

Word Count: 974

The Locket

The small trunk held a bunch of dolls. Emma reached in to remove one. The doll she picked up was made of cloth. Her blue gingham dress was faded. Emma peered back into the trunk. The rest of the dolls were similar, but a flash of gold caught her attention. The candles in the chandelier that hung in the center of the room didn't quite illuminate the bottom of the trunk.

Emma removed the rest of the dolls, lining them up in a neat row beside her. There were six in all, each in various stages of rotten decay. She wondered how long they had been locked away in the trunk. None of them had anything even resembling gold on them, though. They all had dark-colored hair and most of their dresses were too faded to determine their original color.

Emma got to her feet to get a better look at the bottom of the trunk. It was difficult for her to remain steady with her crippled leg, but she managed by gripping the lip of the trunk, being careful not to overbalance either herself or the trunk. There was something golden in the bottom. She couldn't make it out due to the poor light. She reached back in to snag the object and draw it out where she could get a better look at it.

It was a locket. Emma let go of the trunk and straightened to hold the locket up to the light. The candles caused the locket to gleam. It was in the shape of a heart, tarnished with age. Who had put the locket in the trunk? Emma felt it was a very strange place to keep a locket.

Tired of standing, Emma limped to the window bench and climbed up to sit before the bank of windows. It was full dark outside and she could hear the wind blowing around the eaves. The snowstorm had been gathering strength all day and now it started to rage against the manor as if angry at Emma's discovery.

Emma settled herself and then studied the locket she held. It was heart-shaped and attached to a fine-linked golden chain. No gems ornamented it. She flipped it over, but the back was as plain as the front. Puzzled, Emma pried it open. A curl of blonde hair tied with a blue ribbon fell into her lap. Emma picked it up and turned it over. There was nothing remarkable about the lock of hair, except that it had been kept in a locket. Emma held up a curl of her own hair. The lock of hair matched her own hue exactly.

Emma frowned and set the lock of hair next to her on the bench. There was something else inside the locket. It was an image of a woman. Emma caressed it with a finger. It was like a painting, only she couldn't feel the paint. The image felt smooth to her touch. The woman looked a little like her, she realized. The picture was black and white, but the hair was a light color, perhaps the exact same shade as the lock of hair next to her.

Who was she? Emma wondered. She didn't know anything about her ancestors, but this woman's features were so similar to her own that she was obviously a relation. The woman looked a lot like Emma's mother, too, Emma realized. She tried digging the picture out of the locket to see if anything might be written on the back, but it wouldn't come out. Emma contented herself with the thought of asking her daddy about it later. She replaced the lock of hair and then snapped the locket closed and slipped it around her own neck for safekeeping.

Oh, Emma. You shouldn't have done that, her brother's spirit whispered, a puff of air caressing her cheek.

Emma glanced around the nursery, suddenly sure she was no longer alone. She drew her one good leg underneath her and tried to scoot further back onto the bench. Above her, the candles went out one by one until only one candle remained burning.

Why have you called me here, little demon? a voice demanded.

Emma's hand closed around the locket. She was too scared to respond and too scared to move.

Emma, her brother whispered. Run!

"I can't," she moaned back. Even if she hadn't been paralyzed by fear, she knew her crippled leg would never carry her as far as the door and relative safety.

Then take the locket off.

Yes, the other voice whispered. Give the locket to me.

A sharp wind sprang up and the last candle went out, plunging the nursery into darkness. Emma screamed and started struggling with the necklace's clasp. She felt cold fear run down her spine. She had grown used to her brother's spirit, but the other spirit in the room with her was something entirely new. She could feel its malevolence.

Emma squeezed her eyes shut since they were useless in the dark anyway. She couldn't get the clasp to cooperate. A cold finger ran up her arm. Emma froze for a moment and then yanked the locket from her neck. The finger disappeared, but the presence did not.

Sobbing, Emma held her clenched fist out, the locket's chain dangling from her grasp. A puff of cold air blew against her fist. Emma shivered and opened her hand, letting the locket drop.

She never heard it hit the marble floor.

The candles relit themselves a moment later. Emma stayed where she was, letting her heartbeat return to normal. Tears she hadn't even known she was crying had frozen to her cheeks. She hugged her left knee to her chest; her right stuck out in front of her awkwardly.

She glanced down, but there was no sign of the golden locket on the floor.