AAAAAh, I'm done at last! I finally finished the story for my newest necklace. I love to write. But it seems like it takes me forever to do it. I'm not sure why! Most likely the fact that I am so easily distracted, and I do my writing on my computer and that is where the MOST distractions are for me. Oh well.
I decided to continue the story of Miss Mary Stanson, who I wrote about first on a necklace called Key To The Letter Box. So here is the Key to the Letter Box , and The Timepiece, and the entire story...so far!
The Key To The Letter Box
This key belonged to Miss Mary Stanson. She was a spinster, as far as anyone knew. She lived a small life, in a small New England town in the early 1800's. She rented a room in the boarding house on Main Street. She worked in the town's library, filing cards, checking books, keeping them in order on the shelves. She made her weekly trip to the General Store to buy her food and supplies. She rarely spoke a word to anyone, aside from the absolute essentials of making her purchases...usually just a soft "thank you".
Miss Stanson lived well into her 90's. When she died, it fell to the minister's wife, Addy, to go through her belongings, since there was no family that anyone knew of.
Addy began in the closet. She found a locked box, about the size of a sewing basket but much heavier. She searched the little room for the box's key. It was neatly wrapped inside a blue silk handkerchief, tucked away in a tiny drawer in a plain wooden jewelry box on the dresser.
Addy felt a tingle in her fingers as she touched the key. She was so startled that she pulled her hand back and dropped the key. When she picked it up again she felt nothing. She laughed at herself for being so silly and thought with relief, that she had imagined the tingling.
She opened the box. It was filled to the brim with what appeared to be letters. They were packed so tightly that she could hardly pull out the first one. Once she got a few out, then the rest of them started to flutter loose and she could see that they were several layers deep in the box. There must be thousands of them, she thought to herself.
She picked up one of the envelopes and started to open it. It looked very strange somehow, but she wasn't sure why. She pulled out the contents and could scarcely believe her eyes. It appeared to be a painting, but not like any painting she had ever seen in her life. It was a picture of Miss Stanson. There was no doubt about that. But it looked as clear and colorful as if she were standing right in front of Addy at that very moment! It shined as if it was wet, and yet it was paper! She dropped the picture out of sheer fright. It landed face down on the bed. She saw something written on the back and dared to pick it up again to read - "Miss Mary Stanson - Seattle, Washington - July 10, 2004".
Addy never recovered from the shock she suffered on the day she found the picture of Mary Stanson, dated nearly 200 years in the future. Miss Mary Stanson, a woman she herself had known. The woman she had seen laid to rest in the tiny cemetery behind the church, only a week prior. Being the minister's wife, it had fallen to her to clean out Miss Stanson's things after she died, since there was no known family. It was in November of 1814, in that tiny room in the boarding house where Miss Stanson had lived for most of her adult life, that Addy experienced something that would alter her life forever.
Not only had she found the box of letters, and the strangely shiny and colorful picture. She had also found a small box, buried deep in the box of letters, beneath the tightly packed layers. The box was very old and worn around the edges. She picked up the little box very gingerly. It seemed like it would fall to pieces in her hands. Perhaps it was her own falling to pieces that she feared. She took in a deep breath, and opened the box.
She lifted out the timepiece and held it in her hand. It captivated her gaze. A warm melting feeling began to overtake her as she felt her muscles letting go of their fearful grip. She started to feel almost dizzy, but it was a much slower spinning than what she had ever felt before. Her mind told her to let go of the timepiece, but her hand would not obey. She could feel all the tingling anxiety leaving her body as the room slowly turned and the light grew dimmer and dimmer...