Gemotions

"Well, now, what's this?" The grizzled old farmer, Silas, grunted as he pulled the rusty metal box from the earth. He squinted at it, his brow furrowed. He'd lived on this land his entire life. He didn't remember burying anything.

He took the box back to his kitchen. Inside, he found a child's drawing of a fantastical creature and a small, wooden whistle. He held the whistle to his lips, but no sound came out. A deep, discomfiting sensation washed over him. He felt out of sorts.

He spent the rest of the day in a haze, unable to focus on his chores. The familiar comfort of his routine had vanished. The whistle sat on the kitchen table. He couldn’t stop looking at it, and he couldn’t bring himself to touch it. He went outside, and just wandered around the property until darkness fell.