The Universe Of Tomorrow

The Legacy of the Talisman

Sitting in the makeshift medical tent, I took pen to paper, trying to capture the unfathomable events I'd experienced. My wounded shoulder throbbed, but it was the glowing warmth from the talisman in my pocket that truly unsettled me. It had started to glow again, ever so faintly, which could only mean one thing: the creature was near.

If you're reading this, know that I may not have much time left. The Germans have unleashed something—something that doesn't belong in this world. And now it's out there, lurking in the shadows, possibly drawn to the very thing meant to protect me.

I felt a chill in the air, as if the tent's canvas walls had suddenly grown paper-thin. Every noise from the outside world made me jump, each rustle of the wind sounding like footsteps, each crunch of snow like the creature emerging from its hidden lair.

My heart pounded as I scribbled these final words; Whatever happens to me, this has to be known. Be vigilant and trust nothing that lurks in the shadows. And if you find this, tell my family I love them."

As I closed the worn pages of my great-great-grandfather's journal, I felt a mix of awe and sadness. He had died in the war, the official records said from blood loss due to his injuries, but now I wondered if there was more to his fate.

I looked around the attic, a maze of dust-covered boxes and forgotten memories. It was strange to think that my ancestor had once held this journal in his hands, perhaps even in his final moments. I went back to the box where I'd found the journal and rummaged through it some more.

There it was—his old military uniform, neatly folded but showing its age. Below it was the talisman he had written about, a small, intricately carved object with an ancient symbol.

I picked it up carefully, almost expecting it to glow like in the journal. It was cold to the touch but oddly comforting. I pulled out my phone and googled the symbol, which seemed to stand for protectionI heard my name being called from below, my younger sister's voice tinged with concern. "Come down, you've been up there too long! What if a monster gets you?"

I chuckled at her vivid imagination; she was only seven, after all. Carefully navigating my way down the attic ladder, I made sure to replace the box and its contents—except for the talisman, which I slipped into my pocket. There was something about it that I couldn't just leave behind.

As I reached the bottom, my sister hugged my leg tightly. "Don't scare me again, brother. Monsters are up there; I hear them all the time moving around."

I ruffled her hair and smiled, my eyes meeting hers. "Don't worry, you're safe as long as I'm here to protect you," I assured her.

Her eyes brightened, comforted by my words, but as I turned to leave the attic, my pocket seemed to grow warm. The talisman. A shiver ran down my spine, a sudden, unsettling thought crossing my mind: What if the monsters my sister heard weren't just figments of a child's imagination?

As we left the attic, closing the door behind us, I couldn't shake the feeling that the talisman in my pocket was more than just a family heirloom. And if the stories were true, we might just need its protection more than we ever imagined. against evil. A shiver ran down my spine.

Did the talisman really hold the power my great-great-grandfather had believed it to possess? Had it actually protected him, even if only for a short while?

As I stood in the attic, holding a relic that had crossed both time and dimensions, I couldn't shake the feeling that the story was far from over. And as I looked around the dimly lit space, I wondered what other secrets were hidden among these boxes, waiting to be discovered.

"Jason," my sister tugged at my shirt as we walked away from the attic, "promise you'll check for monsters tonight, okay?"

Hearing her say my name with such earnest concern, I glanced down at her and nodded. "I promise, kiddo."