The Drabble Challenge

A GOLDEN TOMB

THE PROMPT ;;
❛ At a garage sale, your character buys an antique urn that might look nice decorating a bookcase. But when your character arrives home, your character realises that there are someone's ashes in it...

GENRE ;;
Angst

AUTHOR ;;
occamy

TRIGGER WARNINGS ;;
Mentions of suicide

+

It smells of dust. Dust and moth balls and old lady soap.

It's strange how the scent is so potent despite being in the open air of the garage sale that's popped up across the road. And because I live in a neighbourhood as small and quaint as this, it's easy to understand how something as mundane as a garage sale would draw the interest of myself and my neighbours.

It's early in the morning when my new neighbour begins setting up his trestle tables, smoothing out the tablecloths over them and humming to himself as he admires the items that are laid out in neat little rows.

Cradling my coffee in my hands and gazing out of my kitchen window, I can't help but notice his appearance – somehow old-fashioned and certainly out of place compared to the prim and proper mannerisms of the rest of the neighbourhood.

He's Asian, with impossibly straight, silky hair that reaches down to his lower back in a glossy curtain and a fringe that frames his long, handsome face and narrow eyes.

His choice of clothing is odd; a pair of flared pants and tanned leather sandals, along with a psychedelic button-up shirt that would put a rainbow to shame.

If Japanese manga and the 1980s had a baby, this would be the result.

I watch him unashamedly as I finish my coffee, enjoying how he hums to himself as he works, before I head upstairs to shower and get dressed.

Within an hour, I'm inspecting the contents of his tables, admiring shiny baubles and old clothing and all manner of sundry items that have been forgotten over the decades.

I hear the neighbours gossip as I browse, noticing, with some interest, the odd glances they cast in my direction.

The previous owner, from what I can hear, had passed away some months ago, and due to his lack of family or next of kin, his house and the possessions held within it, had gone untouched until the house was auctioned off.

The new owner smiles cheerfully at me when I pass him, and I respond with one of my own before returning my attention to the tables that tumble out of the garage onto his front lawn.

A glint of marble catches my eye and I turn towards it.

A small, lidded vase, beautiful and intricate, takes the centre of one of the trestle tables off to the side. It's a soft, powder blue, with delicate silver veins spiderwebbing throughout the marble. On the front of the vase is a golden plate, carefully adhered to the centre, and etched into the metal are the initials "T.H.", which I assume belong to the creator. It's vibrance seems to overshadow everything else on display, sucking the colour from the world to make itself brighter.

"Don't you think that would look lovely with some tulips in it?" a soft, accented voice asks from right beside me, and I flinch as I turn towards the owner of the voice.

The owner of the house chuckles, holding his hands up and dipping his head in a sign of apology, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, it's okay. I was just so fascinated by it, is all," I respond with a reassuring smile, turning back to the object in question, "And you're right – tulips would suit it so well. How much do you want for it?"