The little white door blended in seamlessly with the wall around it, and Lucy probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if Connor didn’t point it out to her. It was small, the top of the door was level with the top of her head and it was maybe only a foot wide. In place of a doorknob, there were two latches – a tarnished old slide latch and a shiny and new-looking latch with a lock.
Connor pulled a small key out of his pocket and started fumbling with the lock. Lucy looked at the door and wondered what could possibly be hiding behind it. It was much too small to be the door to another room. She thought maybe it was just a small linen closet or something – but why would anyone lock a linen closet and why did Connor seem to think this door was the answer to their problems?
Connor opened the door and Lucy leaned closer to try to see what was inside. It was dark and dusty, Connor reached in and pulled out an old picture frame. Then he reached in again and started feeling around for something on a high shelf.
“Um, what are you doing exactly?” Lucy asked.
“It said what we are looking for would be in the ‘heart of the home’. This is in the exact center of the house, and the only place where I have found a bunch of old stuff that no one has touched.”
“Why is it locked?”
“Um, I’m not really sure. I think my parents didn’t want my sister to go in it – since there isn’t a floor.”
“Huh?” Lucy leaned closer and looked down. Sure enough there was no floor, just a drop that seemed to go down forever.
Lucy looked at the things that Connor was pulling out and going through. It was all covered in a thick layer of dust. She picked up a locket that Connor had pulled out. It probably shined beautifully once, but was now heavily tarnished. It almost looked familiar. She wondered how old it might be and how long it had been sitting there, locked away in the closet.
“Look at all this dust, everything is so old.”
“I know,” said Connor. “Isn’t it cool? I love old stuff like this. Don’t you?” Connor looked at her and then leaned closer to examine the locket in her hands. “Hey, that necklace looks sort of like the one you are wearing.”
Lucy looked down at the locket around her neck. Connor was right – it wasn’t just similar. The necklace looked like an exact replica of her own, just dulled by time. “Wow,” she said
“Where did you get your necklace from?” Connor asked.
“Oh, my grandmother gave it to me when I was little.” Lucy smiled thinking of happy times with her grandmother when she was younger. “You would have liked her, she always had the best stories about magic and make believe.”
“Is it magic? Is that why you wear it all the time?” Connor asked, motioning to her necklace.
Lucy laughed. “Until now, I could have promised you that magic didn’t exist. Now, I’m not so sure. Maybe Grandma’s stories had some truth to them and I didn’t know it, but I don’t think this is magic. I just wear it all the time because it feels special. It doesn’t even open or anything. It was just the last thing she gave me and I just feel – I don’t know – safe, when I’m wearing it, like she is watching over me or protecting me or something.”
As Lucy ran her fingers over the locket around her neck, it did two things it had never done before – it started to glow, and it opened.
This scene is a response to a writing prompt from my writing group – to write about the oldest or most cherished thing in my character’s possession. I plan to incorporate this into my current Work in Progress.