The Blue Brooch

An unappreciated daughter and how a wish for a new, better family can get her in trouble…

By Emily White, age 13 

I was house sitting in my childhood home for my parents whilst they went abroad with my elder brother. I was used to not being invited to these trips but it still hurt. They think thati’m pessimistic, a downer and that I suck the life out of the room by merely walking into it. I’m probably both of those things and probably do suck the life out of every room but to me I feel as though i’m realistic and being real has always been comforting to me. So has this house, my old home, which was why I’m even doing this in the first place.However, the house felt off.

I clasped a delicate teacup in my hands, it was actually full of hot chocolate because it was my favourite as a child and although on the outside I come across dispassionate and overly mature at times, my inner child loves to shine through in certain aspects of my life. I was about to cozy into the couch and probably flick through the TV channels, i hadn’t really thought that far, when I realised that all the photos of me when I were younger that once hung on the walls, were gone. The youth of my brother on the walls taunting me as an unfamiliar feeling crept inside of me. I’d never been this…hurt before? I couldn’t tell exactly what the feeling was but it was there. What did I do to make them hate me? I couldn’t let my whole childhood be erased from the face of the earth and so I went looking. There’s no way the photos would be on the second floor. The second floor consisted of my parents typical old-person bedroom which was filled with dark oak furniture and tiny ornaments, my old room which was now a room which stored my fathers abnormally vast hoard of collectibles,a small bathroom which had no personality to it other than a rubber ducky sat on the bath tub and my brothers room. He never moved out because my parents loved him too much. 

I clambered up the stairs and purposely ignored all four doors and headed straight to the end of the landing where a lone door stood. Behind the door was more stairs leading up the the attic and that’s the only place the photos could be. I opened the door and climbed the stairs. They weren’t long but they were steep so once I was at the top I gave a little sigh and that was that. When I was kid i’d made up a story that these magic spirits lived in here and when they saw you were really in need they’d give you some magic. I’d made it up as my brother had lost his football and so i’d placed a brand new football ,that i’d bought out of my own pocket money, in the centre of the attic so when he went up there he’d believe magic spirits had his back even if in reality it was his littlesister. Turns out the whole story has scared him and he told our parents i’d been scaring him with ghosts and I went to bed without dinner that night. Anyways, I scanned the room briefly until I saw a box that was covered in significantly less dust than the rest. It had to be it.

 

I opened the wilted cardboard box and was met with the photos. I was relieved to see them however it was slightly underwhelming, I didn’t even enjoy my childhood anyway. Regardless, I tipped the photos out of the box and they all fluttered to the ground. And then a clank. Confused I looked down and I was met with a small bow brooch encrusted with small blue gems. Except I couldn’t be. My brother had thrown it down the well at the far end of the garden when I was ninebecause we’d got into a dumb argument. Something about it drew me in and I had to put on. I stuck the pin into my argyle sweater and clasped it together. Then out of nowhere, three wispy entities swirls around the room. They didn’t seem to want to harm me so I relaxed a bit. No way this could be happening. We’re these those spirits i had made up once when I were younger? Surely not… yet here they were. Part of me wanted to rip the brooch off and run down the stairs but I didn’t. I was alone and I could do whatever I wanted and so I stood up and admired the unfamiliar beings. They began to wrap around me and hushed whispers swirled in the air. I felt my eyelids grow heavy. Very heavy.

 

All of a sudden I awoke. I sat up and looked around. I was in my childhood bedroom which was supposed to be for storage yet here I was in my bed. I lifted the duvet off of my body. I was in my pink plaid night dress I wore as a kid. My limbs were shorter. My hair snaked all the way down my back but it was only ever that long as kid. Panic ebbed in my veins. On the floor sat a note. I immediately tumbled out of bed and snatched the note from ground. ‘Here’s your second chance’ it read. No. No. No. I didn’t want a second chance. I didn’t want to be stuck in a house with my family all over again. Slowly, door handle turned and slowly the door creaked open. Thesilhouette of a woman who resembled my mother stood in the door frame looking at me. Her eyes. Her eyes, they were headlights on a car at night. Piercing through my soul. Human eyes didn’t glow this way. 

 

“Welcome home,” the figure purred. This, this wasn’t home.The spirits had given me the wrong type of magic, dark magic? Maybe I did deep down wish for a new family but not a new family that wasn’t human.