The Beacon for the Fey - A short story

I rummaged through my late grandmother's old chest that was stored in the attic, hoping there were no spiders inside. Everyone was getting ready for the funeral, and in her Will, she had told us to "use the box with caution". So, of course, as the older sibling, I was pushed up the stairs by my little brother to check the box. We had always wondered what was in it. Grandma would occasionally shuffle into the attic, muttering to herself, and run her hands along the engravings on the wooden chest. We had tried asking what was so important about it, but she had looked distant, replying with a 'you will know, my dears', or something along those lines, until we gave up.

But the chest didn't seem so special. Mother had always said that grandma could get over dramatic at times, and I decided that must've been it. And fortunately, there were no spiders. Just some old scrolls that I kept aside carefully, hoping they won't crumble at touch, and a glass box that contained some kind of misshapen blue object. I examined it close and tried to open it, but it was locked, and the keyhole was empty. I shrugged and looked at the last piece remaining in the chest. A folded piece of cloth. It was the only thing that didn't look ancient. I unfolded it and held it up. It was beautiful, with a pattern of leaves and flowers sewn into the cloth. I noticed the edges of the cloth and realized that it was a flag. Maybe something that grandma made when she was younger? Since it was the only interesting thing I could find, I carefully put everything else back and closed the chest. Grabbing a pole and some rope from the corner of the attic, I walked downstairs, and found my brother waiting for me with an eager look.

"So? Did you find anything?" He asked, squinting at the pole.

I showed him the cloth, at which he frowned. "There was a flag. Look, it's beautiful."

He scoffed. "That was it? I thought grandma was hiding some big secret."

"Well, I'm going to hang this up on the porch." I rolled my eyes, walking outside.

"That's stupid, Anna. It's just a flag."

"Still gonna do it," I fixed the cloth to the pole and started tying it to the railing, while James lost interest and went back in. I heard my parents calling for me, asking if I was ready, and I shouted a 'yes'. Finally getting the flag to stand up straight, I smiled, watching it sway to the wind, which suddenly grew colder than usual. I hugged myself as I looked at the back yard that stretched out to the forest. I faintly noticed something moving among the trees and squinted harder. Was someone taking a walk in the forest? I doubted it. No one really went near the forest when dusk was falling, because, naturally, the rumors of ghosts had travelled all around the neighborhood. Not that I ever believed them, although I started doubting myself as the bushes rustled. I stepped one foot down the wooden stairs that led to the yard when a hand suddenly gripped my shoulder.

"Anna, are you ready?" It was my father. Holding back a shiver, I nodded, and followed him into the car, giving one more glance to the forest, which looked eerily silent.

*    *    *

It was late when we arrived home after the funeral. While mother and father climbed upstairs and into their bedroom to call it a day, my brother and I stayed up late in his room, trying to figure out what the blue object in the glass box was, after retrieving it back from the attic.

"Why is there no key?" James muttered, frustrated. He shook the box, but the object was fixed to the bottom, unmoving.

"Maybe she hid it somewhere?" I wondered, grabbing the box.

"but why?"

"I don't know, James. It doesn't look like much. Just a piece of rock, I guess," I squinted at the object.