Chapter 3 #3
“This whole thing is a transition, losing Grandpa and moving home all by yourself where he used to live—that is a lot for anyone. Seriously though, did you need to bring up the possibility someone could be in this house without your knowledge? That’s just plain creepy.
It’s all in our head; Gramps set this place up.
The alarm system and cameras are top-notch.
The man did believe in Bigfoot. What if Sasquatch had a vendetta? ”
“Charlotte, go home. Pack your shit and the cat and get your ass back here.”
“I will be back on Friday; I need to let my landlord know and maybe put out an ad to sublet my apartment. I will have to rent a small trailer to haul my stuff back.”
“Do you want me to come help you get your stuff packed?”
“No, you’re good. I can manage. Besides, you need to go see the lawyer, remember?” she said, pressing the issue.
“I’m not really interested in getting to know him on another level. I will have him get my affairs in order, but other than that, I think I’m good.”
“Well then, if you’re sure this is what you want, I’m not going to keep pushing you. I love you, Jos. You do what you think is best for you.”
Charlotte left a couple of hours later with a promise to return on Friday with her belongings and furry friend in tow. I slid into a pair of shorts and a tee, threw my hair up on top of my head, and made my way downstairs to watch a movie and order a pizza.
Once I had eaten and grown tired of vegetating on the couch, I wandered around the house searching for something to do. I walked by the study and tried to gear myself up to go inside. Once I concluded it wasn’t going to happen, I wasted the day with mundane tasks until I decided to go to bed.
The sun shining through the bedroom window forced me awake.
I got dressed and headed downstairs to check my phone—probably plug it in since I had forgotten about it last night.
I found it on the coffee table and took it into the kitchen.
I plugged it in and set it down on the counter.
Coffee was a necessity, so I could fully wake up and become productive.
After filling the coffee maker and adding the grounds to the basket, I pushed the brew button.
Turning my attention to the fridge, I pulled out a few items and set them on the counter.
I poured myself a mug of coffee and went to work making breakfast. Once I finished eating, I rinsed my dishes and put them into the dishwasher.
For the first time since I woke up, I was looking at the time: just past nine—earlier than I had originally thought.
It was probably best if I called early to get it out of the way.
I found the number for Douglas others had personal experiences that couldn’t be explained.
Some just wanted to solve a good mystery.
My grandfather was one of those people himself.
He was never able to pass up a good mystery and loved exploring the unknown.
He always wanted to find that holy grail; the thing that would prove without a doubt that one of these creatures actually existed.
I used to tease him that if he proved something existed, then it would no longer be a cryptid.
I carried the stack of books over to the bookcases between the two sets of stairs and placed them on the shelves.
Well, that was one box down. Only three more to go.
I fetched another box from the foyer and set it on the table.
This one contained a lot of cryptid figures and artwork that had hung on the walls in his office.
Bigfoot, of course, the Mothman, the Michigan Dogman, the Jersey Devil, the Loch Ness Monster, and the Thunderbird in all their glory.
I took these figurines to the same bookcase and lined them up on a shelf with similar looking figures.
I lost myself in the study, moving things around and handling everything with care. I began to feel parched and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Looking up at the clock, I saw that it was just past eleven. I needed to start getting ready so I could leave for my one o’clock appointment.
* * *
I arrived home around four o’clock from the meeting, everything taken care of legally.
I changed back into my sweats and went downstairs.
In the kitchen, I got some water, then I headed right back to the study.
Two boxes remained in the foyer. I placed the water on the desk in the study and returned to the foyer to retrieve them.
I moved the first one. The last box, though, was heavier.
I had to drag it; thank goodness it was only through a doorway.
The cardboard maintained its integrity. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember what was in the box that made it so heavy.
My assumption was books; there had been so many adorning the shelves of his office.
I carefully pulled the box all the way to the table where the other boxes were.
Once I reached the table, I broke down the boxes I had already emptied and set them up against the table leg.
I turned my attention to the smaller box and emptied the contents onto the table.
A couple more books, an old pendant that looked as though it might hold some value and had been made long before any living person came to be, and an old book that looked ominous—like a book from a movie that gives you nightmares.
“We will just set that off to the side until we find a locking drawer somewhere,” I spoke aloud to no one.
A few hats and a shoebox of slides for an old projector, a stack of old Christmas and birthday cards, a bunch of check stubs, memos from his secretary, and about five Charleston Chew candy bars all got set with the other contents.
Charleston Chews were his favorite; even better, he preferred them frozen.
Once the box was empty, I broke it down and set it next to the others.
I turned my attention to the final box—the heavy one.
When I opened the box and got a look inside, at what in the world weighed so much—I froze.
It was a piece of wood—albeit a large piece of wood—but wood just the same.
There was nothing else inside the box. Kind of weird.
Why put it in a box at all? I didn’t remember seeing this in his office.
We didn’t box this up. I looked around the room for something to cut the sides of the box.
I wasn’t going to be able to lift it out of the box on my own.
I was coming up empty-handed as I searched the study.
Finally, I gave up and went to the kitchen.
I yanked open the junk drawer and, sure enough, I found a box cutter.
I snagged it from the drawer and returned to what was essentially a stump in a box.
I cut all four corners of the box. As I worked my way around, the sides dropped to the floor one at a time, revealing an ornately carved piece of wood.
The design was all the way around the wood, which appeared to be a very rough, very thick slice of log.
The carvings weren’t recognizable to me, but somehow, they were mesmerizing at the same time.
I ran my fingers over the markings and felt a strange surge run through my body.
My head started to spin, and I needed to sit down.
I wasn’t dizzy, but I wasn’t not, either.
What is this? I planted myself in one of the large wooden armchairs that surrounded the table in the center of my grandfather’s study where I had been working.
This didn’t feel right. What was wrong with me?
I was exhausted and confused. I wasn’t able to fight anymore to keep my eyes open.
When I woke up, I was still sitting in the chair. I reached out and grabbed my phone off the table in front of me—almost midnight. I had been sleeping for almost seven hours.