Flash fiction - Cornerstone - C

Jack sat at the edge of the clearing, a thicket of trees behind him giving way to the dense forest just beyond. His annoyance at his sisters returning to their parents back up at the ‘struction site forgotten. He scooped up Jane’s metal trowel, an implement he’d spent much of the morning coveting, and continued digging in the dirt for treasure.

Once upon a time, Mommy had told them, there was a great big mansion in the middle of all these trees. It belonged to their Aunt Scissors. Daddy said they were in Mommy’s family a long time ago, but Aunt Joan and Aunt Cassie were Mommy’s family and they live right now so maybe they knew the Aunt Scissors. Mommy had hair-etted the land where the big house used to be because Aunt Cassie lived in a special home and Aunt Joan didn’t want the ‘sponsitility of it. Thinking about Aunt Cassie’s home made him think about the cookies the house mother made when they visited.

“Wish I had some cookies right now.” The six year old frowned as he glanced at his woefully stocked lunchbox. Mommy had put applesauce, carrot sticks and yogurt inside, but everyone knew digging was hard work and needed cookies. He returned to his ever widening hole, content that the metal trowel had replaced Jane and Marie’s presence. Jane was so bossy for being nine. Marie could be okay, but she was little and just wanted to make mud pies. Jane squealed when Marie ate the first one. But then she got mad and dragged her up to see Mommy and Daddy after she ate the second one.

Jack lost track of time as he happily dug far enough down that a wall of dirt as tall as his hand mounded up around him. This was better than running his trucks off the stairs back home. The apartment was the only home he knew, and it was okay, but Mommy and Daddy promised he’d have this whole yard to play in once the new house was built.

“Right, right. That’s no problem. We’ve had stranger requests than that. And you think the original stonework is facing the river side of the property?”

Jack looked up, pausing his digging to watch his parents and the ‘struction men walk closer to him. He waved as his dad’s eyes met his, earning him a wide grin.

“Having fun over there? Don’t dig all the way down! We’ll never find you again.”

Jack laughed at his silly daddy, all the while wondering if he could dig far enough down to find live dinosaurs. Aunt Joan watched a movie with him about dinosaurs living underground once. He dug with more enthusiasm as his parents walked away. He shoveled and scraped until the trowel hit something so hard he dropped it. He must have found treasure! Jack looked up to make sure no one had seen it.

“-gone long before my father’s time. Frankly I’m surprised there was anything left to pass on with the property. I figured they never rebuilt because they’d gone broke.”

The adults were slowly walking away. Jack focused on the hump of dirt in the middle of his hole. His mind a whirl of pirate chests and gold doubloons, the boy fell forward and began digging out the dirt surrounding his find.

“Then you aren’t completely sure which way it was situated on the property? ‘Cause my guys aren’t finding anything over there.”

“The letter was pretty specific about finding that cornerstone, but it was written a longtime ago. Maybe she was confused?”

Jack’s fingers cleared the top of something square in the dirt. A box. A treasure chest! He spit on it twice, then wiped his hands across the surface to clear the muck away to reveal a gold ‘X’. It really was pirate treasure!

“It seems superstitious, but the will stipulated having to reuse that cornerstone if we agreed to take the property and the money to build with. They wanted that thing sealed and buried.”

Jack’s fingers worked at the box, but couldn’t get it loose. The top shifted the slightest bit, revealing a seam. Of course! Treasure chests opened from the top! In earnest he wiggled and pulled at the lid so he could finally see his treasure. Jack fell backwards, the lid in his hands and his face frozen in a mask of terror as a cloud of indigo jettisoned from the opening.

After the bodies were found the next day, no one was ever able to explain how an architect, a survey crew and a general contractor along with a family of four had all died simultaneously of internal bleeding. The children, a young boy and his younger sister, in particular left most of the locals saying an extra prayer in church the following Sunday. It would be another week before Joan Nordhaus arrived in town asking about her missing niece, an older child who hadn’t been among the dead that awful day.

By then, it was too late.