Signed, "I Love You" (Enzo & Aiane)
It was almost Christmas, time to clean up the house. It has been your family's habit of tidying things up when Christmas season comes up.
And since you do it annually, that means you're supposed to do it now, too.
You started to clean up the attic, where most of the family's heirlooms are kept— from the first generation down to the newest ones.
You dusted out the tables and boxes, opening some of it to check for something to display downstairs.
All around the attic were boxes, a few tables and broken chairs that have sentimental values, a cabinet, and a vanity table.
You frowned and checked the table. You dusted it clean and gaped at it in awe. It didn't look old or brittle, in fact it looked brand new. A little more dusting, and a touch of varnish— voilá! A new vanity table.
"Why is this stashed up here?" you asked herself.
You pulled a, fortunately unbroken chair, and sat in front of the vanity table. It was spacious enough to put whatever it was you wanted to put in there. There were compartments under the table, on either side of it and in the middle. Both compartments on either side were locked, but when you pushed open the middle compartment— it clicked open.
You found nothing but key.
Frowning, you picked it up and tried it on one of the compartments but to no avail. You tried it on the other, but nada.
"What's this key fo—?" then it occurred to you that there was a strange locked door somewhere in the second floor.
You hurriedly rose to your feet and scrambled down the stairs.
You spotted the door, at the far left of the second floor. The last room, and probably the most spacious room around the house— except for the basement, of course.
With a slightly trembling hands, you inserted the key into the keyhole— which fit perfectly — and it clicked open.
You were startled when it opened, since it was the first time that the room has been opened. In fact, the room has almost been forgotten. But not today, no.
You took in a shaky breath, take a hold of the knob and pushed it open. The door creaking as you pushed the door further.
The first thing that strike you was the room's smell. It reeked of dust and old stuffs, like the room has been vacated in a hundred years— which was almost true, except maybe not a hundred years.
The second thing you noticed was how neat the whole room was, how organized the things were inside. You reckon this has been left the way it was before the owner left... or died.
The mattress was bare and was covered with dust and cobwebs, so were the furnitures. On top of the bedside table, was an open box the size of a shoebox; with lots of yellowish papers and stuffs ranging from candy wrappers, a piece of dried petal you didn't recognise, down to a half long faded red ribbon.
Most of the furnitures inside were covered in white cloth, except for the wardrobe, the side tables, the bed and the study table— which were piled with what looked like photo albums, books, and notebooks on top of it.
To your right was a space wide enough to fit the vanity table in the attic.
So why was it upstairs? If this has been vacated for a long time, who brought it up to the attic then? you thought to yourself.
You shook the thought out and walked carefully over to the study, which was just a little to your left, almost behind the slightly open door.
You traced your forefinger across the lenght of the dusty table, checking the title of the books on top. There were three thick books that were all history, which you weren't so interested in, and two other books that looked like something else— an almanac and a romance book, both of which you weren't interested in yet again.
