She gave her brother the top half of the stack. Her plan was to first do a quick glance through what was remaining in the hopes that maybe somewhere in the opening or closing there would be a name. But only a few letters down, she stopped. This one looked different than the others. Much of the ink seemed to be blotched. It was readable, but there were obvious small water stains covering the page.   November 1918 My Dearest, I write this letter, likely my last to you, with tears of joy and sadness falling from my eyes. My heart is rejoicing that this terrible war is over, that…

She pointedly looked away from her brother and picked up the first letter. She would not admit it, but she had been hoping for a stack of cash, too. While the supposed new tourist trap would bring money in to their family’s diner, starting with the construction crews brought in to build it, she knew their mother could use some extra money even sooner than that. And while she would not have been able to spend the money until she had found its owner, she could have hoped for a portion of it as a reward. But, instead of money, it was this stack of papers, letters it would seem.…

“Dorian.” Her brother was sitting in her room, but had gotten bored and had grabbed a book off her shelf. It had probably originally been his book. He looked up. “What?” “It turned. The key turned.” She almost could not believe it as she said it, so she turned the key back, heard the lock engage, then unlocked it again. “Well, open it.” Dorian appeared to be trying really hard not to take the box from her. She lifted the lid. Only it did not lift in all spots. The rust was really bad in a couple places and it was stuck. Dorian grabbed the letter opener they had used…

Disappointment filled her. She sighed and started to take the key out. “What are you doing?” “It won’t turn Dorian. It is not the right key.” “Maybe the lock is just rusted. Maybe you just need to turn it a bit harder. Let me try.” She shook her head, but let go of the key and turned the box toward her brother. “Grandpa collected keys, Dorian, but the chances we actually have the right key for this box aren’t exactly good. And the odds that it would be in the very first bag? It is not the right key.” “And what are the odds that a person can walk through…

After breakfast, Dorian followed her to her room to examine the lock box. He spent a few minutes trying to pry it open with a letter opener, but to no avail. Like she had done previously, he shook it gently, trying to get an idea of what was inside, but there were no sounds of metal on metal, no feelings of lots of little things shifting around, just more of one soft thunk each time the box was turned over. He mentioned the idea of just dropping it on the tile floor in the bathroom to see if that would break it open. She gave him a dirty look. “Just…

Dorian did not instantly become awake and interested. But he did stop trying to shove her away. He understood enough about the magic to know it had its own timeline, and there was not much point in trying to argue with it. “Out of my room, Mina.” She left. She knew her brother well enough to know he would not be falling back asleep. His curiosity would get the best of him. She just had to wait a few minutes. Her stomach rumbled. While waiting, she could make breakfast. She would even make breakfast for Dorian. He would be less grumpy with her that way. The tea kettle had just…

She woke up before the rest of the house. It was quiet and still. She loved that. She got up and retrieved the lockbox from where she had set it on her desk the night before, then settled back on her bed. Slowly, she turned the box over, not exactly shaking it, but feeling and listening for contents moving inside. She could definitely feel motion, but there was not a lot of noise. Whatever it was, she doubted it was breakable. From her spot on the bed, she could reach some of her school supplies. She managed to find a paperclip and poked it in the lock. She did not…

The dinner shift was just getting into full swing when Mina stopped by the table of Mr. & Mrs. Whitehaven, the local real estate agents. “Steak dinners for both of us, Minuet. We’re celebrating.” Mrs. Whitehaven disdained nicknames and would not use them for anyone. Mina smiled. “Of course.” As she took the order to the kitchen, though, she wondered what it was they were celebrating. The Whitehavens had no kids and were too old to be having kids. It was not their anniversary or either of their birthdays; she knew because the whole town was invited to those parties. And given that it was a small town, everyone knew…

As she got near the house, she could see her mother’s car still in the driveway. Soon her mother would be gone to work the dinner shift at the restaurant, but until then, she knew her mother would be moving unpredictably about the house. . It would not do to have her mother see the lockbox. There would be too many questions, and her mother did not understand the magic. There was a wood pile at the side of the house, covered with a tarp to keep the logs from getting too damp. She balanced the lockbox carefully atop a section of stacked wood and then pulled the tarp back…

It felt good to feel the air on her face. She never really noticed how still closed spaces were until she came out of them. The air, the sun, it all felt right. She gave her eyes a minute to adjust to the sunlight, then did a closer examination of the box. It was dull gray and rusted. The outside of the lock was in fairly bad shape. She wondered how she would get it open. It was tempting to just drop the box on the ground, or perhaps even walk the few more feet to the river and drop it in there, but she had learned better. When the…