Flash Fiction Friday - Estate Sale

One man's junk is another's treasure

I have always been of the belief that one man’s junk is another’s treasure. My foray into the world of old gold came in the form of thrifting. Craigslist and car boot sales, looking for pieces that I knew would go for a mint on Ebay. Who would have thought that getting into a price battle with another buyer would end up in marriage, but that is what happened with Kelley. She won the bidding war, but I won her heart, which seemed like more than a fair trade to me.

Our little business flourished, especially when we went to YouTube and became a hit. Thrifting and flipping became a full-time passion, which in turn led to estate sales, where the real bargains were to be found.

Kelley and I ended up on several mailing lists, one of which took us to Penforth Manor. From the outside, the place looked pristine, but once you passed through the ornate front doors, it was clear that the Penforth family had long since bled their fortune dry.

We were surprised to be the only people arriving at the sale, or perhaps we were just early. Either way, we took the opportunity to pick out the pieces that we knew would make us money. It all seemed too good to be true, and even more so when a man appeared to tell us that we were free to take whatever we wanted. The finely tailored gent watched as we loaded the best pieces into our van, a disquieting smile touching the corner of his lips.

Once we were done, the gentleman told us that the best pieces were to be found in the cellar. Our van was loaded to the gills, so we politely declined, but he informed us that the pieces were smaller and of much higher value than anything we had seen to that point. Call us greedy if you must, but this felt like a perfect business opportunity.

We made our way into the cellar, which was barre, save for shelves lined with taxidermy creatures that, to my knowledge, did not exist in the natural world. Each of then appeared to be captured mid sneer or growl, teeth bared to fend off a larger predator. Each of the beasts wore gold pendants inscribed with strange symbols and inlaid with precious gems.

Kelley reached out and removed one of the pendants, gasping at how warm it felt to the touch. As soon as she removed the jewelry, things took a turn. The sound of cracking bones filled the air as each of the creatures stretched, shaking off the torpor of a too long slumber. Each of them turned their eyes on Kelley and I, or perhaps to the pendant that she still clutched in her hand.

We ran then, taking the stairs in leaps and bounds, Kelley still clinging to the piece that was almost certainly worth a fortune. The dapper gent tried to block our path, but I bowled him over, leaping across his body as he hit the marble floor with a thud.

Tumbling into the van, we fired our reliable vehicle up and tore out of the driveway. I checked the rearview mirror and saw beasts surge out the front door, heading in the direction of our van. Dapper man followed them out an let out a whistle that we could hear over the noise of the engine. The animals stopped and crept back towards him as though called to heel by their master.

In time, we sold all the pieces from the manor to bidders from all across the country. As expected, they were all extremely valuable, but what was unexpected that each of the buyers would later be found dead, murdered and left in pieces by unseen attackers.

We did keep one thing for ourselves. Kelley wore the pendant with pride, and when the time came to inspect her ravaged body at the morgue, it was what I used to identify her as my loving wife.