Stories shape lives. Tales sway hearts.
And Myths… Well, Myths can change everything.
She crept up the tiny stairs, past a wall of pictures. Each one was a memory, an adventure. It was as though she passed by her entire life every time she climbed the little staircase. Her Moments in life watched as she carried the treasure clutched tightly in her hands up to the cluttered rooms upstairs. The black-and-white faces were witnessing another Moment, one that would change everything. But in a way she would never be able to witness herself.
Upstairs, she turned into the room on the left and maneuvered through a mountain of belongings. Boxes were piled everywhere, mementos of the Moments she had lived. Past an alpenhorn and a didgeridoo propped up against a chicken egg incubator, she stopped at the spot she had been looking for. This old house was full of nooks and crannies that didn’t have a purpose, and she had discovered many uses for them over the years. In this room a thick chair-rail ran along the walls, and in this corner there was a special section of it. It didn’t look any different from the rest, but when she pushed in just the right way diagonally, it slipped off the wall. Behind the piece grinned a small hole and inside lay a wooden box with ink stamped all over it like a wine crate.
Opening the crate, she passed her hand over the navy cloth wrapping the precious item. Not letting herself rethink her decision, she gently settled it inside the box. She stared at it for a moment, and then placed the lid back on.
“You mustn’t be found right now. There will be a time…but not now.”
She tucked the box back in its compartment and slipped the chair-rail back over the hole. Then she quietly made her way back downstairs, past the photos of her past, and back to life.