“Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?”
Garth Nix
Inside this box
Ye'll find a key
That will open for ye
A world to be
Ye must be brave
Ye must be strong
Err your fear
Would steer ye wrong
Embrace yeer past
Then let it pass
Face yeer dest'ny
God blesses ye, lass.
In the dim light of the cluttered attic covered with ages of dust and grime, a shiver chased down Brianna Lawton's back as she read the strange inscription on the ancient oak box she'd just unearthed. Written in old English script, it was difficult to decipher but somehow the words became obvious to her as she stared at them. What did they mean?
Heavy brass hinges, tarnished with age, and a matching latch held the box closed and it took some effort to open it, but it finally lifted and she found the box lined with dark green velvet fabric that also covered the contents. She felt another shiver as she stared down at the flap of velvet. Something was happening. Something momentous that she wasn't certain she wanted to unleash. But her hand slowly lifted the fabric
Inside she found a large skeleton-type key made of untarnished bright brass. A dark green satin cord with an embroidered satin tag was attached. Lifting the tag, she gasped and nearly dropped the box, for on it was embroidered Lady Brianna of Cumberly in a flourish of Old English script.
“Brianna!” Her partner, Jeanette, called from the floor directly below the attic. “How's it going up there?”
Brianna took a deep breath and reluctantly set the box aside.
“Uh, going fine.” She gave a convincing cough and sneeze, strangely reluctant to share her find. “It's pretty dusty up here.”
Jeanette laughed.
“I can just imagine. It's why I gave the attic to you to rummage through.”
The two women were partners in a picker business where they sorted through the remnants of estates for any finds that they might restore and resell. Brianna had never felt such a connection with an item before and wasn't at all certain what to make of it.
As she continued her search through decades of artifacts including furniture and chests full of vintage clothing, Brianna's gaze kept returning to the box. It seemed to be calling to her and that was unsettling enough. The growing feeling of anticipation for something unknown was also making her nervous.
She loved her work. She'd never felt as if she truly belonged in the present era and touching items from other times gave her that sense of belonging. Almost. For she never felt those vintages were from the “right” time. She had never understood the compulsion to keep looking, but had put it down to the excitement of the hunt for the “perfect” artifact. What that artifact was she couldn't imagine.
She glanced at the box once again.
But the box with the mysterious key felt like a part of something that was.
Reaching up, she lifted down an assortment of boxes of different sizes and was intrigued by what she found behind them. It was a door, made of heavy oak like the trim around the walls. Beneath the tarnished brass handle was a large key hole. Instantly her gaze returned to the box holding the key. Would the key fit the lock? It certainly looked to be about the same size. Her head cocked to one side as she considered, just where did this door lead? There were no rooms off the attic. At least that they'd been informed of.
She retrieved the box and returned to stand before the door. Lifting the key from the box, she set the box on the floor as she bent and inserted the key into the lock. It fit perfectly but it took some effort to turn it.
Suddenly the key turned with a grating noise and with a quick look behind her, Brianna turned the knob. The door slowly opened inward, its aged hinges protesting loudly. Inside there was only an iridescent cloud, and it seemed to beckon her inside. The compulsion was undeniable and Brianna removed the key from the lock and returned it to the box before carrying it through the doorway.
Instantly she was surrounded by the cloud. She heard the door creak closed behind her then the distant sounds of people, laughing and talking in a nearly unintelligible dialect. She thought she heard a horse neigh and sheep baaing, along with the irregular clanging of a bell. As she continued to walk, the sounds grew louder, accompanied by an earthy, herbal smell.
Then the cloud dissipated and she found herself standing at the edge of a forest with a verdant pasture stretching a great distance before her. Before her she saw a large flock of black-faced sheep being expertly managed by a spotted dog. Two men bearing shepherd's hooks, one much older than the other, walked along with the sheep, occasionally whistling or shouting a command to the dog, all the while carrying on a conversation.
Looking down she discovered she was no longer dressed in jeans and t-shirt but a long, exquisitely trimmed rose-colored gown. And whereas she'd always kept her fair hair fashionably short, she found long, golden locks spilling over her shoulders and breasts to her hips. She was stupefied further to realize she suddenly understood the men as they complained about their wives and home life. What in the world was going on? Was she hallucinating? Had there been something hallucinogenic in the dust she'd breathed?
The dog noticed her and began to bark as it rushed forward, the sheep quickly clearing a path through their woolly bodies as he passed. Startled, the men followed the dog's gaze and their mouths fell open as their shepherd's hooks fell from their hands.
“It is Milady,” the young one whispered in awe, “She has returned!”
The men took a few steps then fell to their knees as they doffed their caps and bowed their heads. At her continued silence they looked back up.
“Milady Brianna?” the older one hesitantly asked, “Are you in need of aid? How are you out here among the sheep?”
Brianna felt as if she'd fallen down Alice's rabbit hole.
“I-I'm not sure,” she replied in confusion, “Where am I?”
The men stood and looked at one another.
“Make haste and fetch the Laird,” the elder man ordered, and as the younger man dashed off, turned back to Brianna.
“Come, Milady. I have little to offer you in refreshment but there is a skin of water.”
Brianna continued to stare uncertainly about her, unable to move until the man encouraged her with a gentle motion of his hand.
“Come Milady, I mean you no harm,” he assured her, “The Laird will soon arrive to take you home.”
Moving forward, she tripped over the hem of her gown and nearly fell, but quickly righted herself and held the skirt so that her feet could move freely. Following the man's urging, she allowed him to guide her to a rough high-sided wagon. Absently she noticed it had wooden wheels and the dapple gray horse hitched to it was massive. Her mind was completely overwhelmed by the situation and had, for all intents and purposes, shut down.
She accepted the skin of water, drank a few sips, with a few drops escaping down her chin, before sinking to the ground in a dead faint.
When she awoke it was to find a man leaning over her, his handsome, bearded face creased with concern.
“Thank God!” He said in relief, “She awakes at last.”
Lifting her gently to rest against his strong shoulder, one arm held her there while the other carefully brushed the hair from her face. The fabric against her cheek was of fine white linen while the vest she rested her hand against was leather. He smelled familiarly of horses and clean air.
“Where have you been these many weeks, my love?” he asked quietly.
Brianna shook her head as her mind began to fill with images like a movie. She recognized this land, and looking up at him, she suddenly, somehow, recognized him.
“Tobias? I-I do not know. It was like a dream. A strange place filled with strange people wearing strange clothing.” She shook her head. “There were wagons that moved without horses and...”
“Shh,” he whispered tenderly, “It was but a dream. But how did you come to be lost?”
Her brow furrowed as she searched the many memories crowding her mind.
“There was a door. It beckoned me and I stepped through it.” She shook her head and looked up in panic. “I do not remember anything after!”
Tobias frowned in anger.
“I suspect it was the old woman who came to the castle claiming to be a great sorceress and begging for repast. I dismissed her as having lost her senses. It would seem she was what she claimed and decided to punish us.” Her tenderly cupped her cheek. “But now you have returned. Let us return home where you can rest and recover. I am happy to have you back, my love.”
He lifted her into his arms and carried her to a spirited black horse being held by the young man. He carefully lifted her onto its back then mounted behind her, and they were off across the pasture. With each step of the horse's black hooves, Brianna remembered less and less of her life before, and by the time arrived back at the castle she had completely forgotten it had ever happened.
The End
c. 2025
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Reviewed by Ronald Hull
8/10/2025
The message on the box was very poetic and could be a poem all in itself. And your use of time to travel in this case was interesting because of the portal that you chose compared to other portals used in other stories.
The Brianna in you wishes to go back to what seems like a more pastoral and peaceful time. But I would think that you might find the reality of the Baird's wife was one of dreary drudgery compared to this time and place that you write to escape. Travel by carriage was often too hot or too cold, very bumpy and hard on the riders, making only 20 or 30 miles a day.
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