I breathed in deep and blew the thick layer of dust off the trunk before me. The grey filth spiraled through the air, drifting slowly to the wooden floor. I blinked, the dust stinging my eyes, and then carefully pushed open the trunk, hoping I would finally discover some dark family secret.
I had to admit that I thought my family was as boring as could be, never involved in anything more exiting than dinners with my parent’s friends, or birthday parties. Other people were descendants of famous singers, knew one of the former presidents or had secrets that were beyond fascinating, but we… we were just plain and simple.
Normal.
My parents were, in my eyes, relatively mundane: my father working for a company that produced aluminum, my mother a social service worker.
I had decided that there must be some kind of secret, something interesting for me to find here. Why else would they have told me to stay out of the attic?
Wiping my irritated, tearing eyes with the edge of my sleeve I leaned closer and glanced into the trunk, immediately disappointed. There were only old letters, photo albums, and papers in there.
I was about to give up when a letter caught my gaze: written in neat cursive handwriting it was signed by one Elle Mahogany.
The name brought about instant recognition. Elle Mahogany had been arrested a mere three days ago, I’d seen it on the news, for murdering seven men within the time span of a month.
And my parents had known her!
I snatched up the paper, scanning through the many lines of writing, my heartbeat increasing as I read.
Dear Joan,
As you know I’ve been on the run for several weeks now, but Zach simply won’t give up. I’ve tried to get away, but he always catches up, showing up at the hotel I’m staying at, even when I check in under a false name. I’m being followed, Joan, I can feel it. I can tell that there’s always someone watching me, their eyes burn into the back of my head when I travel.
I need your help, I need you to go to my house and find the box in the attic. Take it home, hide it, burn it, just make sure Zach never gets his hands on it. Please, as a friend in need, I beg you.
I do not intend to put you, Mark, or little Sammy in danger, trust me, he will never assume that you have the box.
Goosebumps tingled all over my body as I tried to calm my heavy breathing. Little Sammy. This woman knew about me, and apparently since I was a young child. Until what age do people call children little?
I turned over the paper, searching for a date or postage stamp that could tell me when the letter was written. Failing to find one I dug into the trunk, searching through the many papers for the envelope.
Finally I lifted it up, turning it over in my hands, squinting my eyes at the stamp. June 3rd, 1995.
I was four when my parents received this letter.
‘Sam!’
‘Shit!’ I folded the letter and envelope, stuffing them in the pocket of my jeans, before shutting the trunk and hurrying down the stairs.
My mom called out my name again, and I replied this time ‘Yea?’
‘Come downstairs to have lunch, please’
‘Alright, one sec’
My hands were filthy, grey dust clinging to my sweaty palms, and I dashed into the bathroom to wash them. The sweet smell of soap filling my nose I cleaned my hands, then dried them with the comfortably rough towel and locked the bathroom door. Leaning against the wall I pulled out the letter. I had only read about half of it.
Maybe one day I’ll be able to come see you again, if I manage to solve my problems. I’d really like to see my goddaughter again, Joan, she’s truly wonderful. You’re lucky with that sweetheart of a husband of yours Joan, and I really hope you’ll never see your marriage fall apart.
Do not worry yourself about me, I’ll pull through.
Please take care of the box, dear.
Lots of love,
Elle Mahogany
Goddaughter? That had to refer to me, for I didn’t have any sisters.
Elle Mahogany not only knew me, she was my godmother…
My godmother was a serial killer…
Whoa.
Questions seared through my mind: Did my parents still know Elle today? Or was it an old friend they’d lost contact with? Had they done what the letter asked them?
‘Sam!’ my mom’s annoyed tone told me I’d better come downstairs right away. Tossing the letters onto my desk from the doorway as I passed my room I stormed down the stairs, running into the kitchen and dropping down next to Derek, my extremely irritating ten-year-old brother.
‘Took you a while’ he complained ‘Mom said we had to wait for you before we could eat’
‘Poor, starved you’ I replied, annoyed with him already, then reached over and grabbed a slice of bread.
‘Sam, you know that we call you when lunch is already on the table. Try not to be late, okay?’ Mark, my dad, spoke calmly as he arranged pieces of cheese on his bread.
‘Sorry dad’ I said with my mouth full, earning a reprimanding glare from Joan. Swallowing my sandwich I turned to her ‘Mom, do I have a godmother?’
She visibly hesitated, then shook her head slowly ‘No, dear, you don’t’
‘Derek does’
‘Yes. Derek does’
‘So why don’t I?’
‘Sam, stop questioning your mom and eat your lunch!’ Mark raised his voice only slightly, but it was enough to inform me that it was best to do as he said. He didn’t get mad often, but once he got mad I usually ended up grounded. I wasn’t planning on being grounded.
We continued eating in silence, until Derek leaned across the table, reaching for the peanut butter, and knocked over his glass of milk.
The white liquid spilled over the table, gushing off the side into my lap. I jumped to my feet, cursing, as my brother dumbly stared at the havoc he’d caused.
I pressed paper towels to my soaked jeans as my dad mopped up the milk from the table, reprimanding my brother for his clumsiness.
‘Great, Derek’ I said ‘I was going to wear these jeans to school tomorrow!’
He sulked, crossing his arms, then sat down on his chair, throwing everyone angry glares ‘I didn’t do it on purpose you know’
‘Just be careful, and don’t lean over the table, ask someone to pass you the peanut butter when you need it’ Joan told him, cleaning the spilled drink off the floor.
‘Sorry mom’
‘It’s alright Derek’
With the mess cleaned up, my jeans still soaked and sticky, and a new glass of milk for my brother we continued our meal. After my second sandwich I dropped my knife on my plate and leaned back ‘Why did you call me Sam? It’s not really a girl name’
‘Of course it is!’ Joan seemed surprised ‘It’s a unisex name’
‘I don’t think so’
‘Well… we were going to name you Samantha, but your father didn’t like the name, so we made it Sam’
‘So you can blame me if you want’ Mark smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back. I didn’t dislike my name, I just wanted to know where it’d come from.
‘What time’s the news on?’ I asked nonchalantly, as though I’d ever posed that question before. Joan sipped her water ‘One p.m. In about five minutes, why?’
‘Just wondering’ I rose and lifted my plate, setting it in the dishwasher. After I placed the cheese, salami and butter back into the fridge I grabbed my glass of Coke and headed into the living room, switching on the TV.
My dad joined me on the couch, and the two of us sat in silence, watching muted commercials for a moment before he cleared his throat ‘What’s with your sudden interest in the news, Sam?’
‘Just curious’ I shrugged ‘I’m old enough to want to know what happens in the world, you know’
‘As I’ve noticed’ he nodded at my Coke ‘You shouldn’t drink too much of that stuff’
‘Why not?’
‘Caffeine isn’t that good for you’
‘You drink coffee, so let me drink coke!’
‘Yea, but I’m-‘
I interrupted him ‘You’re an adult… I know. I think I’m old enough to decide how much caffeine I want in my system, don’t you agree?’
He sighed, and I could tell he wasn’t going to answer me.
‘Fine then’ I set my coke down ‘God, I hate commercials’
My dad grinned ‘That’s the point, you’re meant to hate them. The more they annoy you the more you remember how annoying they are… the more the product they’re promoting lingers in your mind’
‘Mmhmm’
The news came on, and I quickly turned up the sound. The reported gave a short synopsis regarding what was in the news, and to my dismay Elle Mahogany wasn’t mentioned.
I got to my feet, picked up my Coke and began walking away. When I was at the door my dad called after me ‘Aren’t you going to watch?’
‘Nope’ I called back ‘I’ve lost my interest in current affairs. Sorry’
I set my empty glass in the dishwasher and headed to my room, I seriously had to change into another pair of jeans. Once in my room I shut the door and rummaged through my drawer, taking out my dark blue denims and dropping my milk-stained jeans to the floor. When I’d changed I tossed the dirty jeans into the laundry room and sat down behind my desk, fiddling with the letter.
I could ask my parents, but it might very well make them angry.
I could also find out more about Elle Mahogany.
I opened my laptop, pressing the on button and waiting for the machine to start up. Logging into my password-protected account I drummed my fingers on my wooden desk, then clicked on the internet icon.
Using the woman’s name as search words in Google I was immediately bombed with 1,200 hits. There was a lot about my godmother on the web.
After a moment of thought I typed the words Elle Mahogany, Zach into the search engine, which still tuned up over 500 hits.
Selecting the first website I waited for it to load, then scrolled through the newspaper article.
The title didn’t surprise me, it merely confirmed what the letter had said. I read through the article, my curiosity growing with each passing word.
Woman stalked by ex-husband escapes death
Washington D.C – A woman native to the D.C. area has been on the run for nearly two months, in a desperate attempt at getting away from her stalking ex-husband. She informed police yesterday after escaping from a near-fatal car accident. The twenty-nine year old Elle M. married Zachary W. at the age of twenty-five, divorcing three months ago. Once the divorce papers were served the deserted husband swore he’d “get back at her”, and has been following, threatening and trying to hurt Elle M. ever since.
The rest of the article developed the facts about the near-fatal car accident her ex-husband caused, and how lucky she was to even be alive. It also said that Zachary W. had been taken into police custody after intentionally causing a road accident in mid-town Washington.
In other words, my godmother had been the victim of a deranged man, who had tried to kill her by crashing his car into hers in the middle of town. Then, twelve years later, she'd gone and killed seven men, including her ex-husband Zach Willis. That much I'd learned off the news a few days ago.
Charming.
I sighed, pulling open a drawer and depositing both the envelope and letter in it. If my parents discovered I had it, they’d be very, very angry.
‘Sam!’ once again my mom called me, and I shouted back a short reply. What did they want now? God, parents were so incapable of leaving their children in peace for more than a minute.
‘We’re off to the supermarket, want to join us?’
Uhm. Never?
‘No thanks!’
Mom’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, and I quickly closed the drawer, turning to find her in my doorway ‘We’ll be back around five, we’re meeting Aunt Sara in the shopping centre’
‘Sure’ I shrugged. The timing was perfect; it gave me enough time to search through the trunk for more letters. There had to be more, I knew it ‘Say hi to her for me, please’
‘Will do’ mom started down the stairs, then halted and looked back over her shoulder ‘Oh… and Sam?’
‘Yea?’
‘Stay out of the attic’
I frowned, they never explicitly told me not to go to the attic when they left me home alone. Did they know? ‘Sure, there’s probably a whole load of spiders in there anyway’ I fake shuddered, and she smiled at me ‘Right. Bye darling’
I listened for the sound of the front door slamming shut, then hurried to my window and watched the family Volvo drive away. Time to get started.
I walked up the wooden stairs to the attic, then unlocked and pushed open the door. As I switched onto the light I realized something was different, although I couldn’t quite place it. My eyes scanned the corner where I expected the trunk to be. My jaw dropped when I found that the trunk was gone.
Damn it!
My parents must’ve known, they must’ve somehow known I found the letter. If only I hadn’t asked those stupid questions at lunch! I looked around me, trying to discover where they’d left it. I searched through the entire attic, looking inside and behind cupboards, under the antique coffee table and inside the cardboard boxes that were scattered around everywhere. The trunk was no where to be seen.
‘Shit!’ I shouted in frustration, and then stormed out of the attic, stampeded down the stairs and slammed into my parent’s bedroom.
There it was! Sitting atop their bed. They’d been lacking in their judgment. Did they really think I wouldn’t find it here?
Not sure what you mean 
