Gemotions

Rain lashed against the corrugated metal of the shed, each drop a relentless drumbeat against Elias's skull. He hunched his shoulders, pulling his threadbare jacket tighter. The shovel felt impossibly heavy in his hands as he scraped away the wet earth. He didn’t know why he was doing this, this frantic digging in his own backyard. The metal detector had screamed a week ago, a shriek that now echoed in his memory. He'd been so sure it was a forgotten pipe. Now, a strange hollow pit gaped back at him, swallowing the meager light filtering through the clouds. He found it: a rusted metal box, half-buried, half-eaten by the earth. A cold dread crept up his spine.

He wiped the mud from the top, his fingers fumbling. He didn’t recognize the handwriting on the lid, looping and childish, scrawled in a thick, unfamiliar marker. A name he didn’t know was etched below: ‘For My Future Self’. His throat constricted. He pulled at the lid, a groan escaping as the rusted metal gave way.