The Legacy

If Only I could unravel grandma's riddle and open the magic box

I want to open a magically locked chest.

I took the box out of my grandmother's closet.

And knowing that she had magically locked the chest, I didn't even bother with picking the lock.

How I wish I could answer her riddle, or even remember it. I instead set to unscrewing the hinges.

It had taken me days to make the odd, five point pentagonal screwdrivers needed on the unusual tiny screws.

I placed them into the center and began to turn.

And to my delignt they turned with ease.

A sense of joy filled my chest. My inheritance would be available forthwith. "Thank you grandma."

Then the screwdriver slipped in a quarter inch–leaving the screw back where it had begun.

Grandma had not meant for this to be easy. "Damnit, Keara," I said. "You know I'm not the one who can answer riddles. That was always my damnable sister's thing."

The box sat there, completely unimpressed with how unfair it was.

I picked up the phone. "The screw drivers don't work. It just snaps back in."

"I told you what you need to do, Leremy."

"I can't talk to Susan. I just can't."

Diane groaned and hung up. Then the text popped up with Susan's contact info.

I snarled and it took everything not to throw the phone across the room.

I spun the bolts through the cycle twice. I recalled the time I had tried this with a hammer.

The box had simply reassembled.

I dared hope that if it reassembled so perfectly, it would preserve the precious contents.

I left my phone and box and went for a walk.

When I returned, the phone remained there. I looked at the contact, and shut off the phone to go get a sandwich.

Hours later I returned. I spun the bolts until they snapped back into place just as they let go.

I checked the text, and it was still Susan's number.

I dialed. "Hello."


Her voice rang with relief. "Leremy. Hello."

A knot in my stomach. "It's not my fault. Why do you always do that?"

"I can tell you where the key is."

"I'm not going to beg you. This isn't something that you're going to hold over my head."

"Leremy, please. I know it's hard, but—"

"You know what, no. Don't tell me it's hard."


She sniffled. "That's fair. The key is on the shelf. Now that I told you, you'll find it."

"I'm not some kind of monster."

"I know. Just open it."

I strode over to the shelf and yes, the key appeared.

I opened it.

There, in blue ink on black writing, "I, Keara, being of sound mind, do hereby confess to the summoning of the Lachland Serpent."

I sat there stunned. But this wasn't all.

The next paper was a writ unlocking Susan's rights to her inherited property. The answer to her financial woes, in my hand.

I considered locking the box and leaving it. How long had she tormented me over the Lachland Serpent, never believing I was innocent. Let her die thinking I was guilty, and suffer. I dialed the phone. "I… thought it was going to make me innocent. But it's just this deed to the old house."

"Leremy, I saw what you found." She choked down a sob. "I'm… so…"