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Or you can just start reading now:
Or you can just start reading now:
They found it years before, when their kids were still young, buried at the bottom of the garden: a rusted chocolate fingers tin. Inside, wrapped carefully in a silk scarf: a lock of hair, two peacock feathers tied in a simple knot, a photograph of a holidaying couple, torn apart then reassembled with sticky tape, an old British pound note, a dried rose and a lottery ticket, “PLEASE HELP ME, I AM LOST” scrawled roughly on the back.
Then years later, looking at honeymoon photos from their son, recognition flickered and a cold dread began to fill their stomachs.
II
“My wife's reaction was more immediate. Screaming “No”, she snatched the photograph and tore it to shreds. I saw horror dawning in her eyes as she fled the room whimpering “No, no...”
Robert stared at the scattered pieces, incomprehension across his face.
“There's something you should see” I said, leading him to the cellar. That box had seemed important, so I'd kept it safe. As I unwrapped the scarf I related its history to Robert, handing him the jigsaw photograph. Questions bubbled around his lips before he spotted the lottery ticket.
“Dad, that's Fiona's handwriting!”
III
“I knew that box would be trouble. For weeks after, it haunted my dreams, nagged at me. I'd begged Edward to destroy it, but knew he hadn't.
By the time they came up from the cellar, I'd reassembled the photograph.. “Sorry Robert,” I said, handing it to him, “I don't know what came over me.”
“No Mom, it's okay” he replied, holding two identical jigsaws in his hands, one printed just last week, the other one almost 30 years old.
“Well then,” I said, catching Edward's eye. “Whatever this all means, it's begun now.”
IV
“What's begun?” I asked, “What are you talking about?”
“I don't know, something weird!”
“Now Mary,” Dad said “I'm sure there'll be a rational explanation.”
“Robert, thirty years ago we found a photograph that was taken less than a month ago! How can anything about that possibly be rational?”
“Well I don't know but...” You could hear his struggle in his voice.
“But nothing! Robert, ring Fiona, ring her right now!”
Endless seconds of static as the phone dialled.
“BEEEP! The number you dialled is not in service, please dial again.”
V
Robert was working himself into a frenzy, dialling and redialling Fiona, when the doorbell chimed.
Answering it, I found a funny looking little man in flat cap and overalls, like you'd see in an old fashioned hardware store. Halfway down the garden path, he was looking at the roof.
“Evenin' missus, I was just passing and couldn't help notice you've got trouble. Nasty piece of work.”
“What trouble?”
“That” he said, pointing. Looking up, the roof seemed funny, like the edges weren't solid.
“What is that?”
