Christine De Vuono

The Original Mabel

The lockbox hung as a black mark on Auntie’s front door. Mabel grabbed the hateful thing and punched in the combination, popping the box open to claim the key, shiny and newly minted from within. She opened the door and stepped into her beloved Auntie’s house for the last time. No longer alive with her presence, it stood as a tomb to be raided by those who don’t believe in curses. Mabel dropped her sleeping bag and went back to her car to get the dozen collapsed boxes before closing the door to the outside world. She had been given the weekend, reluctantly, by her great-aunt’s daughter Corrine to take the books she had been left in the will with the caveat not to touch anything else, as everything had been cleaned, recorded and priced. Corrine would hate it if she had to call Mabel’s parents about something that was missing or broken.