At twenty-two-years-old, a journalist named Charles Munakata got a chance to improve his career by contributing to a project involving Soma, a tropical island occupied by scientists. While he was there, he learned some upsetting truths about the isl...
As I took shelter inside the small train station, anxiety plagued my thoughts. It turned out I wasn't actually in Aspen just yet. Instead, I was in a town called Imogene, which seemed to be the exact opposite of the busy Aspen. I had heard of the sparsely populated town before, but I never realized it was actually kind of close to home.
I stared at the small paper Joseph handed me and read the instructions on the back. The first step was to wait until help arrived, which was unsettling, to say the least. I didn't know who I was waiting for. Step two was to "let her lead the way". Step three said, "be careful while retrieving the hefty item; this will be no small feat in your situation".
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I complained. Joseph was obviously the one who wrote the steps down, but he was so vague all the time that it ended up causing confusion.
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The front of the note had the code 2-0-0-9, which was the same code I entered to open the Pantry back at the Facility. Under the code was a short message from Joseph, reading: "Good luck on the rest of your journey." And underneath the latter was a little black heart he drew for me. It was perfectly shaped and filled in. I expected nothing less from such a talented artist.
I was unaware of it in the beginning, of course, but that code was actually the year of Joseph's birth. That date was twelve long years away...
I began to wonder when exactly Joseph's birthday was, which lead me to wonder how well I would get to know his parents. Amidst my deep thoughts, I heard someone speaking to me. I didn't respond immediately, but I could tell they were making a lot of noise.
"...Sir!? I made it! Didn't you hear me?" An energetic twintailed red-head announced.
"Huh?" I flinched once I got a good look at her. The smiling young girl flipped her long scarlet hair and showed off a shovel she was carrying.
"A-Are you...?"
"Yeah! I'm here to help you with your buried treasure. I'll stick around until you get home, and I'll keep in touch so we can be friends forever."
"How did you know I would be here? And who are you? Are you old enough to be out here by yourself?"
"I foresaw this day a while ago. My name is Frances, by the way, and I'm nine years-old."
I was baffled at Frances' sudden appearance. And I couldn't help but realize how she was about the same age of the kids I had left behind earlier that day.
"So you're a clairvoyant, then?"
"Yup."
"So am I," I smiled. That was the first time I introduced myself as a clairvoyant to anyone, and it felt strange, to say the least.
I followed the eccentric Frances outside, where her concerned father was waiting.
"Fran! I told you not to leave me behind," He scolded. "I realize how important this is to you, but don't just run off like that."
Guilty Frances apologized half-heartedly before introducing her dad to me. He didn't seem too enthusiastic about tagging along with his only daughter, but he was supportive of her antics. From what I was told, this wasn't the first time she had involved one of her parents in some weird prophetic event.
When Frances wasn't looking, her dad quietly told me to be wary of her judgment; she wasn't the most stable person in the world, apparently. She seemed fine to me, though. I mean, Frances seemed a little too cheery at the time, but I didn't mind.
We arrived in the lush nearby field. It was almost directly behind the small station, and after observing my surroundings, I actually recognized the place. The station was the same one Joseph had shown me in a dream. There was a key difference I noticed right away, though; the station was obviously still open. Mostly everything else was the same, but the station stood out, meaning the version I saw before must have been from the future. So this station will be abandoned in a couple of decades, I thought. I must have shown this area to Joseph during his childhood...
We used the shovel on the spot Frances told us to. After getting soaked in the downpour for quite some time, we uncovered some large wooden object lodged in the earth. Frances wasn't kidding when she called it "buried treasure". What we dug out of there was a wooden chest with a number lock hanging on the front. I set it on the damp ground and entered the numbers from Joseph's note. I stuck the metal lock in my pocket and opened the chest. It had stopped raining by then, so I confidently opened it knowing that its contents would be safe.
The first thing I pulled out was an old spiral book. The handwritten label on the front said "Family Recipes". I thought it was odd that Grandpa would include something like that in there. I didn't see the point, honestly. Or at least, not until I came across a certain dessert recipe – Mille-Feuille.
Recent memories flooded back to me. When Joseph allowed me to eat dinner that first night, I recognized the dessert from somewhere. I didn't know the name of it, but it looked and tasted so familiar. That dessert turned out to be Mille-Feuille.
Then, even more memories resurfaced. My mom made that dessert for me all the time when I was a kid. As the years passed by, however, her health got worse, and she no longer had the energy to make it regularly. On top of that, she actually forgot the recipe she used. Right then I vowed to reintroduce the dessert to the family. I couldn't believe how I had forgotten something I enjoyed so much. And apparently, Joseph enjoyed it too. I anticipated sharing it with him someday.
I got another book from inside the chest. This one was labeled as a photo album and had old pictures of the Kingsley household in it. There were different sections for Mom and Cheryl, Grandpa and Grandma, and some of their friends. All of the pictures were taken over the course of only a few years, giving a little preview of their lives back then. My grandma was missing from most of the images, likely meaning that she took most of them.
I slowly searched through the album, waiting for a picture of Joseph to show up. Eventually, I found one of him sitting next to my mom, my aunt, and another girl, who I assumed was Ashlyn. He didn't seem too happy about having his picture taken. Actually, that's how he looked in most of the photos. There were a few pictures of him smiling and enjoying himself, though, which I was glad to see.
There were more books in the box, and they seemed like journals. These weren't written by Joseph, but by my Grandpa. I skimmed through them all, and frequently saw passages about the gods and the future in general. I could tell that Grandpa didn't want anyone besides me to read those journals since he did hide them underground decades ago. I didn't let Frances or her dad read those at all; I wanted to save them for my eyes only.
Lastly, when I thought I had seen everything, I noticed a loose picture lying on the bottom of the chest. I picked up the picture, which was lying face down, and read the caption on the back.
"Charlie and Grandpa. January 8, 1976," it read.
That picture was taken about two months before Mr. Kingsley vanished. In it, he was holding a much younger version of myself. I wasn't even a year old when the picture was taken.
The picture was taken in my living room. Grandpa had a content smile on his face, while I looked rather bored.
Frances commented on the picture as if she already knew that Mr. Kingsley was my grandfather. I was surprised by how much she knew, and together we explained part of the situation to her dad, who was also impressed by Frances' knowledge.
I carried the chest back to the station, where I boarded the train with Frances and her dad. Much like the previous time, no one else was on board. We exchanged contact information, and the two stayed with me until we reached my neighborhood in Aspen. I felt kind of guilty for having them keep me company since they actually lived in Imogene, but they didn't mind at all. They wished me good luck with my journey, and I ran as fast as I could toward my house. My eyes were fixated on my destination, and my heart pounded a lot harder than it should have been.
