May's Workshop Stories

Mystery in the Forest

I knew I should have planned my nature hike better, but I didn't think I would get this lost with my tiny detour. It was just supposed to be a nice little walk off the beaten track away from the loud and busy life that civilization inevitably brings with itself.

As nothing in my life ever goes according to plan, I found myself lost in the middle of a forest. As much as I love the power and beauty of the forest, being all alone in an unfamiliar one scared me. Not that I would have admitted it to anyone, but as I was all alone, I could allow myself the luxury of confessing the truth to myself at least.

I decided to walk a bit further, and if I didn't see any signs of civilization, to try and find my way back from where I came from. Of course, that was the exact moment when I tripped on something hitting my knee so hard that I was sure it would leave yet another bruise on my sensitive skin.

As I removed the fallen leaves to clear my view of what had tripped me, I was surprised to learn that it was a metal hatch that had no place in the middle of nowhere. Then again, that might have been the perfect place for an underground bunker. At least, that's what some of the movies had led me to believe.

"Should I open it?" I asked out loud, scaring away a few birds and even making myself jump, startled.

Generally speaking, underground bunkers were never good news, not that I would know as I've actually never seen one in real life. However, it was already getting far darker than I liked. It was a smart move to find a shelter. What better place to shelter in than a bunker?

Opening the hatch took all the strength that I had, but once it was open, I was rewarded with a dry and safe place to stay in for the night. Not only that, but the opening of the hatch seemed to trigger some kind of automatic lighting. As old-fashioned as it was, it was a sight for sore eyes.

It meant I wouldn't have to go into pitch dark, and I was more than grateful for that.

"Alright, here I go," I said out loud as I started descending the ladder next to the hatch.

My voice reverberated through the empty space coming back to me far louder and terrifying than anticipate.

"I really need to stop talking to myself," I murmured, trying to avoid it echoing back to me.

Upon descending the ladder, I walked down a long tunnel lighted by flickering naked bulbs that shed enough light to make me feel comfortable enough to go on. I wasn't sure if it was the best idea I've ever had or the worst one, but I kept going.

Soon enough, I came upon a heavy metal door and somehow managed to spin the rusty old wheel and get inside.

That was when things started getting weird. Everything about the place felt familiar. Not in the sense that I had been there before because I hadn't. It was more like everything in the room; every piece of the perfectly arranged furniture reminded me of something.

Looking at the old-fashioned cupboards, chairs, and tables organized to make a small but functional kitchen, I couldn't help but think they were very familiar. I knew that if I put my hand in the first drawer on the right, I would find one of those drawers filled with the most random things.

I was sure that if I were to look at the second shelf on the left, I would find teacups and saucers and that the glasses would be on the shelf next to them. Yet, I had no idea how I knew all that.

That was until I saw it.

A picture on the wall stopped me cold.

It was a picture of a family weathered with time. On that picture were my grandfather and his sister that I never really got to meet but about whom I learned about from this very picture when I was very young.

"What is this doing so far from home?" I wondered. "And why does everything look exactly like grandpa's childhood home?"

The last thing I expected to find during a tourist trip to a foreign country was a piece of home. And not only that but a part of my home that made no sense.

My grandfather's sister had suddenly moved to another country without anyone ever knowing why and ended any contact with her family back home. What was even stranger was that after my eighteenth birthday, my grandpa decided that he couldn't die without knowing what happened to her, so he left in search of her.

We never heard from him again.

"What happened to you, grandpa? Was this your home? Why didn't you ever come back to us?" I asked myself.

I was shocked to know that I found all this. Yet, I didn't have any more answers than before I found the hidden bunker.

Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. I hurried to the second drawer on the right, where I found some old family photos as I expected. Some were familiar to me from back home as they were identical. Others were new to me but clearly very old in the making as well as the letters. However, these letters weren't the ones my father wrote to my grandfather when he was in the military, nor were they letters written by familiar family members.

"Dear Chauncey," I read. "Oh, my God, these letters are addressed to grandpa!"

I was so excited that I gave up on not talking to myself and eagerly dug into them.

"If you have found these letters, it means that I never did manage to come home, and for that, I am truly sorry," she wrote. "It was never my intention to leave you all behind (as you can see from this room from our childhood), but fate had other plans."

I wondered what could keep one from their own family. However, no reason good enough came to me, so I proceeded to read the yellowed letters.

"You may have noticed by now that many members of our family have...a special set of skills. We are far better at solving mysteries than we would let anyone know. However, that's what got our father into trouble with the government," she wrote her handwriting a bit shakier when talking about their father. "Thus, they found me and insisted that our family had to pay the debts of our father. As the oldest one, I believed it was my duty to pay the debt and hope that it would all end with me, that our debt will be repaid. However, if you've found these letters, it means that there is more to be done, and I am truly sorry."

I stopped as the letter shook in my hands.

"What does that even mean? What kind of debt could take generations to pay off? Great grandfather must have done something horrible," I mumbled, thinking through all the possibilities.

"You will have to leave your family behind like I did and embark on another journey of mystery and redemption. I am not sure this journey will ever end. Still, I hope that you at least had the chance to live a good life before our past caught up with you.

All the love,

Charity"

However, the letter didn't end there. There was more, quickly scribbled underneath Charity's writing in the familiar handwriting that made my heart throb in pain.

"My dear little dove, my precious Celina, if you are reading this, I know that I have failed you. I didn't manage to pay off the debt of my father. Now, the burden rests on your bright shoulders (let us be honest, your father is most definitely not the detective in the family). All you need to know is in the secret compartment behind the painting. Good luck, and I am so sorry that even you have to suffer because of my father's sins. I love you, my favorite granddaughter,

All the love,

grandpa Chauncey"

"I am your only granddaughter," I mumbled under my breath, smiling through the tears.

I wondered what happened to him, I still do, but I could tell that carrying on his work was more important than anything else I had done in my life. Thus, I bravely forged on, opening the secret compartment and getting ready for a new adventure that promised to be far greater and more dangerous than any before it.