The air was of a partial frost, but not due to the temperature of the room. No, the chill was from my spine, and it spread thoroughly through the rest of my body. I wasn’t supposed to be here, I though. I had mulled over the idea of whether it was really worth climbing up to this rickety old attic. Why should I risk being bent over Grand-mama’s knee just to see if I could find that old letter? Would it explain anything? Would it be worth the humiliation of getting caught breaking this one sacred rule?
But I had to see if it was up here. Whether or not the old roomers spoken around the family were true. So I had to make my way to the big, sand dune of a chest on the other side of the room. If it existed, the roomer went, it would be in that big ol’ chest. I crept over, hoping in my young boy mind that Grand-mama’s high society tea part downstairs would distracter her from my lurking. Each step was intended to make no more sound than a drop of water, but the house bemoaned my presence each time my foot hit the ground. Not one creak of the floorboards distracted or detracted my desire to complete the quest.
I pop open the chest after clicking open the rusty buckles to see if it was there. And Staring back at me was my Granddaddy’s face, back when he was younger man. A living man. A man of unshaven whiskers and the dust of the prairies on him. A hat of cow hide leather dawned his head, and his eyes looked like they could pierce my soul.
And on the same piece of parchment that my Granddaddy’s face was on had these words as well: Wanted, $5000.
(I think I failed this challenge too?)