It was late at night, and Evelyn was about to go to bed when she suddenly heard a strange noise somewhere in the house.
She stopped for a moment, and she simply listened.
The house was usually quiet at night, and she was still getting used to its unfamiliar sounds. She had only recently moved in after her grandmother's death.
Then she heard it again. But this one was different. Gathering her courage, she went to investigate, stopping every few steps to listen. After searching for a while she couldn't put her finger on it. Then she realised the attic door was open, and the stairs had been pulled down.
“Huh!? Why is the door open?" she murmured.
I didn't do that, did I?
She stood there for a moment, staring at the dark opening above her.
Then—
Scritch...
She froze.
Scritch…
Another sound followed.
Scurry... rustle… rustle…
GASP!!!
She jerked her head toward the darkness above, finally realising that the noise was actually coming from the attic. With trembling steps, she climbed the stairs.
The attic was dark and dusty. She couldn't see what was making the noise. She switched on the flashlight on her mobile phone and began looking around. There were a few boxes laying around. As the light fell on one corner of the attic, she saw two rats scurrying around. The moment they noticed her, they rushed across the floor.
Evelyn jumped.
“Ahhh!...... Oh, come on!”
The rats disappeared behind an old pile of boxes. One of them knocked against something, and an old wooden box tipped over with a dull thud.
Evelyn stared at it.
She slowly walked closer to it, and crouched beside the box. Her eyes lit up with fascination. She had never seen a box quite like it before. The box was old, but beautifully decorated with small stones. She had quite a collection of unique vintage things, but she never had something like this. She ran her fingers lightly over the small stones.
“Such a beautiful box…. I’ve never seen this before.”
Placing the mobile on the side, she lifted the box very carefully. She turned the box around, looking for a lock. There wasn't one.
Curiosity got the better of her. She tried to lift the lid, but it wouldn't budge.
“Ahh! Why won't you open?” she muttered, frustrated.
She put the box down and picked her mobile from her side, and started to examine the box for a few moments.
“Damnit…. I need more light.”
Determined to find out more about the beautiful antique box, she decided to take it back to her room.
She took a clean cloth, and gently wiped the dust off the box. Once again, she tried to lift the lid.
“Ahh…. finally.” She smiled in satisfaction.
Inside was a vintage leather-bound journal, a fountain pen, and something partially hidden beneath the journal.
Evelyn carefully lifted the journal.
The journal was covered in dark brown leather, worn with age, and decorated with intricate embossed patterns. However, it had been surprisingly well preserved. She ran her finger over the embossed patterns before opening it.
Huhh…. Strange….
“Is it blank?”
“How can it be…. Blank?”
She turned another page.
Blank.
Another.
Still blank.
Evelyn frowned and flipped through several more pages.
Nothing.
Its thick, yellowed pages showed signs of age, while a worn leather strap wraps around it and fastens with an antique brass clasp. Despite its age, the journal feels carefully preserved, carrying an air of mystery as though it has been waiting quite long for someone to open it.
“How can a journal this old be completely empty?” She said keeping the journal aside.
Then her gaze went to the fountain pen. It was beautiful—golden and black, with a name engraved along its body.
Edward.
She picked it up and examined the engraving before placing it carefully beside the journal. Then she noticed the folded sheet of yellowed paper underneath.
She picked it up and carefully unfolded it. The paper was fragile, and the handwriting across it was neat but slightly faded with age.
It was a letter, at the bottom of the page was a name.
Edward.
Evelyn sat down at her desk and began to read.
My dearest Eleanor,
I do not know if I will ever have the courage to give you these words.
You probably believe that I no longer care for you. Perhaps you believe that everything I said was true—that I wanted you to leave, that I no longer wished to see you, that whatever existed between us meant nothing to me.
I wish I could tell you how wrong you are.
But there are things I cannot explain to you yet. Not because I do not trust you, but because knowing the truth may put you in greater danger.
If you hate me for what I have done, I will accept it.
If leaving me is what keeps you safe, then I will let you go.
But please believe this, even if you believe nothing else:
I never stopped loving you.
Every word I said, every moment when I made you believe that I wanted you gone—it was never what my heart wanted.
I only hope that one day, when it is safe to tell you everything, you will understand why I chose to let you hate me rather than let anything happen to you.
Ever yours,
Edward
Evelyn remained still for several seconds after reaching the end. She read the last few lines again.
There was clearly someone named Eleanor—someone Edward had loved deeply. But the letter raised more questions than it answered. What had happened between them? Why had Edward pushed her away? And what was he trying to protect her from?
With a sigh, Evelyn slowly placed the letter beside the journal. Looking at the journal she whispered, “Who was Eleanor?”
Nothing happened, it was still blank.
Looking at the pen she asked “Who were you, Edward?”
Nothing happened.
Evelyn smiled.
What was I waiting for…. an answer?
“Maybe it was simply an old family keepsake.”
She was about to get up from the chair, then suddenly she heard something. A faint scratching sound coming from the journal.
She froze.
Evelyn slowly turned her gaze towards the journal, and saw that a tiny black mark had appeared on the blank page. Then another mark appeared. And then another. Little by little, words began to form across the page. Evelyn went rigid.
There was no one else in the room. No hand held the pen, and nothing touched the page.
Yet the words continued to appear.
For the first time that night, Evelyn wondered if she had found the journal… or if the journal had been waiting to find her.
