I wasn’t too impressed by the locket when I initially saw it. It was little, delicate, and hidden in a dusty box of things that belonged to my grandma. As her lone surviving relative, I was left to look through her belongings after she passed away a few weeks ago. The name etched on the back of the locket—Adrian.—was particularly striking due to its elaborate design. The name was unfamiliar to me, but it was not strange because my grandma had always been a quiet person. I assumed the locket was innocuous, so I wore it around my neck that evening. But I was awakened by a faint sound when I was lying in bed.
“Find me…”
My heart pounding, I leaped to my feet. Aside from the distant creaks of the old house, there was silence in the room. The sound returned, quiet, frantic, and unmistakable, but I told myself it was only the wind or my imagination.
“Save me…”
The locket was the source. My nerves were raw by dawn, but curiosity had taken hold. I started going through my grandmother’s belongings once more and discovered a faded photo hidden among some old letters. Beside her, a young man stood with his arm slung loosely over her shoulders. Someone had written: Adrian, 1947 on the back.
I had no idea who Adrian was, and I was no longer able to ask my grandma. I thus looked further. The disturbing reality was discovered on a visit to the local archives: Adrian Whitmore had disappeared in 1948, not long after being spotted at a house my grandmother had once owned.
I couldn’t get the whispers out of my head that night. They increased in volume and tenacity until I gave up. I traveled to the deserted home the following day, a dilapidated mansion cloaked in quiet and plants. As if it had been holding its breath for decades, the home seemed to be alive with history. I followed the voices, which grew louder as I moved down the darkened corridors.
“Remember… Remember…”
In what could have been my grandmother’s chamber, I discovered an old journal. It told a love story I never would have thought possible. Although she and Adrian had fallen in love, their relationship was prohibited by Adrian’s affluent family. Toward the conclusion, the entries got frenzied, discussing Adrian’s abduction, threats, and covert encounters. I was driven to the basement by the voices. At the top of the stairs, I paused, the air heavy with an unidentified substance. However, I was too far gone to go back.
I discovered a hidden door at the bottom. It creaked open, revealing a tiny, chilly room. A skeleton with a hand gripping a locket just like mine was inside. This was Adrian, and it hit me like a punch. A sudden, deafening quiet fell over the room, and the murmuring ceased. Then there was a voice, clearer than ever.
“Thank you.”
The engraving on the back of the locket had disappeared when I looked down, and it had grown warm around my neck. I took the burden of Adrian’s story with me as I quietly departed the estate. Even though the locket stopped whispering, I couldn’t get rid of the sensation that I had fulfilled its request exactly. I had located him. I had recalled.
And I had saved him somehow.