Gemotions

The shovel struck something hard, a definite metallic thud that vibrated up Elias's arm. He wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow, a grimace twisting his lips. This was ridiculous. He'd been meticulously mapping his backyard for a new garden and now, this. He knelt, dusting away the loose soil with a gloved hand. A rusted metal box, half-buried, stared back at him. He couldn’t recall ever doing this.

He grabbed the box, hefting it experimentally. Surprisingly heavy. He carried it to the patio table, his movements slow, deliberate. He found a rusty crowbar in the garage and pried open the lid. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspaper, was a collection of bizarre objects: a cassette tape, a photograph of him and a woman he didn't recognise, a small, glass vial filled with a shimmering liquid. He picked up the vial, turning it over in his hand. He pursed his lips and set it back down. This was some elaborate hoax, he was sure.