Tales of Gloomsdale #1: The Hidden Attic

Chapter Seven

Matt observed the glistening, silvery items on his bed. He hadn't been able to resist his curiosity and had taken a look in the drawers again while his family was asleep last night. He had found yet another drawer with arbitrary, old-fashioned items inside. The first was a large, shining teapot with a wide handle. The one next to it was much smaller, but also more alarming. A long, narrow knife.

Matt picked up the knife, tightly gripping the wooden handle. The silver blade glistened almost as much as the teapot. The knife made him remember something, though he wasn't sure what.

He jumped out of his skin as he heard a knock on the door. He quickly shoved the knife under the covers and dropped to the ground, shoving the teapot under his bed. The next moment, he heard the door open.

"What's the point of knocking if you're just going to come in?" Matt quipped, getting to his feet. He turned to see Mr. Davis standing there.

"Oh, sorry," Matt apologized. "I thought it was Willow."

"No, I'm sorry," Mr. Davis said. "I shouldn't have scared you."

"What do you want?" Matt demanded. It came off harsher than he intended.

"Sarah told me to remind you about the dinner party," Mr. Davis said. "It's tomorrow night, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Matt muttered without enthusiasm.

"I know you aren't excited about that," Mr. Davis assured, stepping inside. Matt quickly covered the spot with the knife with more pillows. "The truth is, I'm not thrilled by the idea either. I'm not sure about inviting new people over so soon. But I could tell Sarah was excited about it."

Matt shrugged. "Well, I remember."

"That isn't the only thing I wanted to remind you of," Mr. Davis admitted. "Your mother's birthday is coming up soon. Remember that as well?"

"Oh, yeah." Matt felt slightly guilty as he remembered how he had almost completely forgotten.

"I want to get her a really good present," Mr. Davis said. "I know your father gave her that necklace that she still keeps around, even if she never wears it."

"The necklace!" Matt raised his head in shock. He remembered the necklace he had found in the drawers, and how it had reminded him of something he couldn't pinpoint. It was a great deal more gaudy and heavy than his mother's necklace, but similar enough. He hated how she still kept it around to remind her of his father. Then again, he did the same with the comics and journal, so he somewhat understood.

"What?" Mr. Davis asked.

"Nothing," Matt muttered, trying to force the memory out of his mind. "What present did you want to give her?"

Mr. Davis hesitated. "I was going to sculpt her something... she doesn't like having my carvings around the house, but she does like them in our room. She even brought along the tree that I carved and painted green for her last Christmas."

"But your carving knife's broken," Matt pointed out.

Mr. Davis nodded. "I kept saying I'd buy a new one, but I kept putting it off. I've used the same knife for years. It was probably only a matter of time until it broke."

"Can't you just use a knife from the kitchen?" Matt asked.

Mr. Davis shook his head. "I tried, but they were barely any use. Actually, the one I had wasn't in the best condition. But I still hung onto it." He glanced away, looking wistful.

Matt slowly removed the pillows until he could feel the knife under the covers. He wasn't sure about offering it to Mr. Davis, worried that he'd ask too many questions. But he could see how disappointed he was.