BIG SOUTHERN CHAPTER 48

1958

HENRY

The chest uncovered, Henry sets to putting the new lid on it. With a hand drill he bores small holes to thread wire through into the old chest wall. Hammering is too much stress on the old wood, it being buried nearly a century, and it is too soft to hold the threads of a screw. One wing of the new hinge, placed on the old hinge's opposite side, is affixed to rot-resistant cedar boards Henry bought, and the other wing's holes will be wired to the original chest. It's the best he can do. He won't take the old lid off, instead the new one rests upon it. Sorry, dear, he mentally says to the dead girl, this will only take a minute.

The new top is slightly bigger than the old one, overlapping about an inch, but he didn't have time for exact measuring. Once he drills the holes, he lifts the old lid and sticks his hand inside. He avoids the thought of reaching in and touching the girl's bones. It's awkward work, he didn't think it through properly, and in the dark, with just a candle, the wire is hard to see. But the two ends come through, he twists them once at each of the two places the hinges will go, sets the lid down, then wires the hinges to the lid.

Good for another eighty years, maybe, maybe not. Who knows. The bottom may be rotted, he hasn't checked. There would be no point. He left a note inside with the original parchment, explaining best he could. He left the gold, left the bones. He couldn't create a scenario that ended well were he to tell anyone. It would be a sensation at best, something criminal at worst, in the hands of someone else. Another piece of gossip, something the world didn't need. And as for the loot, he has all he needs, no money could buy what he wants, that being a past undone, a voice returned.

© 2025 Ralph Thurston