HEIRLOOM

Chapter 4

The next morning, we quietly slip out of the yard while Alex is busy tidying up after the violent storm that raged throughout the night. The storm was so severe that it knocked down two birch trees in the yard and moved the roof of the paddock.

As we step on the road, we notice that the already treacherous roadbed has been washed away by the storm. Part of it has fallen off, along with the asphalt, making it even more difficult to navigate. The merciless storm hasn't spared the local properties either, with many houses, barns, and cattle pens damaged to some extent. Several very old buildings are completely destroyed.

"Steve, are you absolutely certain that we should venture out today?" Gabriela inquires, gingerly holding up the hem of her delicate summer dress in an attempt to avoid any potential for dirt and grime to soil its delicate fabric. 

"Without a doubt," I reply resolutely. "The unpredictable weather conditions will add an extra layer of atmosphere to the photographs."

Silence descends as Gabriela chooses not to say anything further and we proceed with our walk, clumsily navigating along the path.

We see people who haven't slept all night, scurrying about in a daze. Soon the sound of crying and wailing fills the air, along with the drawn-out mooing of cows in distress. As we make our way towards the cemetery, the destruction caused by the storm becomes more apparent. The power supply networks have been cut off in some areas due to fallen trees, forcing us to navigate through the terrain with caution. The overcast weather and leaden clouds above hint at the possibility of the storm's return, adding to the sense of urgency.

Upon reaching the cemetery, we are met with a daunting sight - a large uprooted tree blocking the entrance. Frustration sets in as we try to climb over the slippery and mud-covered trunk. After several attempts, we finally succeed and help each other down the other side.

The aftermath of the storm is evident in the cemetery as well: fallen trees and broken tombstones are scattered everywhere. We trudge along the boggy path, our shoes are weighed down by thick mud, and finally come across the stone building that I am willing to capture in my photos. The structure is abundantly overgrown with moss, exuding a fresh scent of greenery and dampness.

With my camera in hand, I begin to capture the eerie atmosphere around us. Clicking photos left and right, I envision the possibility of selling these captivating images to a popular magazine. The editor will undoubtedly be drawn to the haunting beauty of the moss-covered stone building, and I can't wait to see my work in the next issue.

Gabriela, on the other hand, seems less enthused. She wrinkles her nose in confusion, clearly not understanding what draws me to this place. But I feel a magnetic pull towards the structure, and I grab her hand, eager to explore.

"Come on, let's go inside!" I urge her, my enthusiasm contagious.

Gabriela tries to pull her hand back, but I refuse to let go. "You're so crazy!" she exclaims, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement.

With a mischievous grin, I lead her towards the entrance of the building, eager to uncover the mysteries that lie within.

As I examine the ornate iron door, a sense of disappointment wash over me. Despite my best efforts, the door remains stubbornly shut, refusing to yield to my attempts to open it. Frustration sets in as I twist the handle in different directions, pulling it with all my might. It's then that I notice the small keyhole right at the handle of the door.

With newfound determination, I ask Gabriela for one of her hairpins, knowing that she always carries a few on her head. She deftly removes one from behind her ear and hands it to me. I insert the tiny black pin into the keyhole and turn it clockwise, hoping to hear the satisfying click of the lock releasing.