Scarlet Ch. 1

***If you've already read the beginning, please skim through again. I made a few minor changes. Thank you!***

I watch as the pallbearers gently set down the coffin. The dismal day perfectly complements how I feel at that moment. As I look around, I realize that only six people are in attendance: the preacher, the four pallbearers, and myself. Great Alice never did have anyone but me.

“Shall we begin?” Father Harrison asks. I simply nod; the sooner I am out of this cemetery, the better. Bible passages are read, the coffin covered. The preacher goes home, leaving me to mourn in solitude, though I do not cry, just stare at the grave. What will I do without you? I ask my dead great-grandmother. I never receive an answer.

With a sigh, I trudge across dirt and gravestones to my car that I will soon no longer be able to afford. I drive back to Great Alice’s house, knowing I will have to finally face the attic. I’m not sure if she would appreciate me rifling through her personal and sentimental items, but it’s moot now. The more I consider going into the attic, I actually find myself looking forward to it; I have always been curious as to what she had stored from the past.

Some would find Great Alice’s house strange or even frightening. Not me, however. It’s the only home I’ve ever known, so it‘s a comfort. I open the door and enter the house for the first time in a week, since Alice passed away. It smells different somehow, or perhaps I just grew unaccustomed to the odor of dried rose petals and dust in my absence. I look at all the familiar objects around the foyer, and I’m surprised that things have stayed the same even though Great Alice is gone. But I don’t waste time feeling nostalgic. I have business upstairs.

The spiral staircase has always been my favorite feature of this house. It’s worn, creaking, and, in some places, termites have eaten away the wood. Still, it manages to retain a charm that cannot be found in newer homes. The steps give me their usual greeting of groans as I make my way up to the attic.

I reach the attic door, and, for the first time, turn the door knob. As I gently slide the door open, a cloud of dust emerges from the room that has not been visited in possibly decades. I fumble in the darkness for a light switch. For a moment, I wonder if this room was never equipped with electricity, it’s that old. Finally, I find an antique lamp, dusty and cracked. The light illuminating from it is weak, but t will have to do.

The room is lit in an eerie way. Shadows are cast in all different angles from the walls; one looks at me with a leer. As I take in my surroundings, I discover that the attic is basically empty, except for one thing.

The single object in the room is a chest. I find it odd that Great Alice would be so protective of it. What kind of treasures has she kept in there for all these years?

I approach the chest cautiously, as if some creature will leap from it and attack. Unfortunately, nothing jumps out because the chest is locked. And I don’t believe I have the key to it.

Suddenly, I feel a breeze. I assume it’s from an open window when I remember that there are no windows in the attic.