Dilemma

     Ryan was glad the funeral was over and he had the large house to himself.  It would give him a chance to go through his father’s things and get rid of it all.  He did want to keep a few mementos, minor things that were of no importance to anyone else but him.  Free of all the family, friends and well wishers that had filled the house an hour ago, Ryan could think clearly at last. 

     With so many rooms in the house, Ryan decided the best place to start would be up in the attic and work his way down.  Mr. Flannigan, his father, had been somewhat of a collector of antiquities and stored most of the collection there.  A lot of it would be junk, old furniture, cracked dish sets and a torn tapestry or two if Ryan remembered correctly.  Hopefully he could find someone to come tomorrow and haul it away although it was nearly impossible to find anyone that wanted to work on a Sunday.

     The attic was dusty and filled with what Ryan could only consider as crap.  Furniture from days gone by to organize for donation or the dump, boxes of books and newspapers to sort through and determine which could be sold for coin in the pocket and which could be recycled.  It was such a large task.  With a heavy sigh, Ryan began inspecting the furniture.

     A few pieces seemed fit to be donated but most was fit for the garbage.  The upholstery had been chewed through by mice to get at the straw stuffing hidden within.  There were stains from this careless drinker or that untrained puppy.  Ryan knew his father had held onto each piece with the plans of restoring them during his retirement.  A shame that retirement was cut short by his death.  For a brief moment, Ryan wished he had taken the time to learn how to fix all this old stuff like his father wanted.  He knew the old man had dreams of the two of them working side by side putting new stuffing into this couch or fixing the legs on that table. 

     It was the middle of the night by the time Ryan finished organizing the furniture.  There were two piles.  The larger pile was to be hauled away for garbage, too destroyed or worn to be used again.  The second and much smaller pile was what he decided to keep for furnishing one of the rooms in the house.  He would dig through the yellow pages tomorrow and find someone that could clean and fix them up.  Ryan rubbed his eyes and decided it was time for bed.

#

     Morning brought rain with it.  The clouds were thick and heavy in the sky and the rain pattered softly against the windows.  With a cup of coffee in hand, Ryan climbed the stairs to the attic to spend another day of sorting through the dust ridden inheritance his father had left him.  During his first glance the night before, he figured there were at least fifteen boxes of papers and books to sort through.  With the light of the dangling bulbs on the ceiling and the furniture moved around, it looked more like twenty or thirty boxes.

     Ryan opened the first box and sneezed away the dust.  The first book he picked up smelled musty, the print engraved on the worn leather cover was faded.  He turned it over in his hands, looking for damage in the cover.  Satisfied things are fine on the outside, Ryan opened the book.  Some oddly named story by a guy of the name of Lovecraft.  There was a scribble across the front of it and he knew he’d have to do some research to see if it was a signed first copy.  Ryan searched through the pages quickly to satisfy himself that there was no damage to the book.

     Time passed and box after box was sorted.  Half of the books were garbage; a lot of the newspapers were salvageable.  Ryan figured he could sell them to someone that was interested in the news for some extra cash.  He had a stuffy nose from all the dust and mildew and was about to call it a day when he opened the box that would change his life forever.

     The first item he pulled out of the box seemed to be some kind of robe.  Judging by the smell, it had been sitting in mothballs for a very long time.  It was a nice piece of clothing, the stitching was tight, the fabric sturdy, and the color would probably be bright again after a trip to the cleaners.  Ryan figured it was a box of costumes as he pulled out more clothing and set them aside after close inspection.  The mothballs had done their job although his eyes were watering from the acrid smell.