Gemotions

He stared at the tarnished metal cylinder, unearthed from beneath the oak tree. A time capsule. He knew he'd moved into this house only last year. He had never put down a time capsule in his life. The inscription on the side, in a childish scrawl, was a name he didn't recognize, a date that didn’t make sense. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing, trying to piece together a reality that felt fractured and unreal. A chill snaked up his spine. He pried it open, the metallic squeal grating on his nerves, and peered inside, half expecting to see… what? Clowns?