Gemotions

The lawyer droned on, reading the will of the recently deceased Uncle Silas. "…and to my niece, Clara, I bequeath the contents of the time capsule buried on the grounds of the old manor…" Clara shifted uneasily in her seat. The other relatives exchanged knowing glances. She hated the feeling of being judged.

She'd never known Uncle Silas well, and she certainly didn't recall any time capsules. The legal paperwork, however, was irrefutable. The solicitor pointed to the details; her signature. She didn't believe it. She wouldn't. This was some elaborate practical joke.

That evening, as the rain pattered against the window, she drove to the manor. The grounds were overgrown. She found the spot with the help of the estate manager. She’d see this through, she had to. She would get to the bottom of this.