-The Chimes {Part One}
Summary: After your grandmother's passing, she leaves you with an old, broken box of wind chimes and a confusing letter. That's when they appear...but who are they? What are they?
Warning(s): mentions of family death, breaking and entering (kinda), fear for life (nothing insane)
Word Count: 2k
For as long as you could remember, your Grandma had a set of old wind chimes out in her yard hanging from a tree that she took good care of and loved deeply. You never knew why she took so strongly to the small, somewhat broken piece of wood with minimal strings holding together pebbles and bells, but she did. She would take you out to her garden, where she had many other beautiful items like bird houses, feeders galore, and more different types of flowers than you knew existed, but she always ended up circling back to the damned chimes.
“This is a very special item, Y/N,” She would always begin, gently holding it out straight so you could admire it yet again. “Do you know why?”
You’d shake your head; you knew what she would say; she always said it, but you’d ask her to repeat it anyway so you could try to make some sense of it yourself.
She’d give you a small, pleased smile and then let her attention fall back to the dangling stones and bells. “It saves my friends. It gives them a haven to come to; I take care of them, and one day, I hope, you will too.”
You never understood what she meant by “friends,” but your Mother always assured you that she was just an old woman and her mind wasn’t as well as it once was. She said her Mother had never asked her to take the chimes when the time came, but that she wasn’t surprised since she’d always had an attachment to you.
Over time, you’d quit coming around to your old grandmother's as much, only visiting virtually with a call or message. You were an adult now; you were busy and didn’t have the time to sit in an old house and talk about garden decorations. So, because of your lack of visitation, you’d forgotten about the wind chimes.
And then it all happened at once. A single fall sent your Grandmother to her deathbed. Neither you nor any of your family understood how a small trip over a shoe could cause such damage, but it was too late to rewind the clock and prevent it now. One by one, your relatives visited and said their final goodbyes.
You didn’t want to go with your parents, or anyone for that matter; you’d never done well with tears. So you waited, waited to be the very last person. Not to mention, you felt guilty for neglecting her for so long; what if she resented you now? What if, in some way, this fall was your fault?
Before you could compose yourself mentally, you were being walked back to her hospital room. Instead of a scowling face staring back at you, it was one of calmness, longing, and love… She looked so different, much older and somewhat sad. It had been too long.
You talked for some time, just catching up on your lives and pretending like the inevitable wasn’t happening…and then, as you were about to leave and never see her again, her words caught your attention.
“You’ll take care of them, won’t you?” Your body froze in its place, words you hadn’t heard in so long, digging up a deep memory that your mind had buried so long ago. The wind chimes.
You gave her your best smile and nodded your head. “Of course I will. Get some rest. I love you.”
“I love you too, my best girl.”
And then just like that, an hour later, alone in her room, she died. The Doctors said she had a smile on her face, but that didn’t help the deep ache in your chest when you were told the news. All you knew was that she was dead, and you hadn’t spent enough time with her, and it was your fault.
When her will was read, and her things were split amongst her family and friends, a single box was handed to you. A wooden box that looked to you to be built for her and not by some manufacturer. It was a type of oak you hadn’t seen before, and on the lid was her name, carefully etched into the center. You didn’t open it for a few days; your heart couldn’t take it.
It sat on your kitchen counter, ignored and neglected until you finally battled up enough courage to sit down and lift the lid. Again, your heart clenched; inside were the chimes, older than what you remembered, and wrapped up with a note on top. You read it first.
For My Best Girl,
When they arrive, please do not be startled, for they will be too. Keep calm; they will not hurt you. Explain to them why I will no longer be their caretaker, but now you will. Let them know they were loved, especially my sweet music box.
Put the chimes outside where it is visible, and then wait until sundown to meet them. Again, please do not be scared; I love you dearly and do not wish bad things to happen to you. I love you much; thank you, my dear.
Love, love, love, Grandma x
After reading over the note at least 10 times and trying to make sense of it, you gave up and pulled the chimes out carefully from the box. They jingled like they always had, giving you a comforting sense of nostalgia. You noticed more of the bells had fallen off over time, and some of the rocks came loose in the box. Since your Grandmother loved it so much and took the best care of it she could, you’d try your best as well.
You left it out on your table, running to the craft store to get more bells. You knew she always hated plain old packaged rocks, so you went down to the river where she used to take you to collect stones to paint for her garden. You chose a few small ones that you thought would look nice, returned home, and started carefully putting them back together. It took up more time than you realized, but once you were done, you were proud and immediately hung them outside your apartment window.
You ate dinner, took a shower, and crawled into bed, the context of the letter leaving your mind as you slowly drifted into sleep. You were unconscious for several hours until the whispers woke you up. Your usually silent apartment was now filled with the faint sound of voices, multiple voices. Your heart was racing wildly, and you didn’t know what to do. You’d never been put in a situation like this and honestly, didn’t know how it should be handled.
Instead of calling the police or crawling out your bedroom window for help, you stupidly stepped out of bed, grabbed an annoyingly huge textbook from your desk, and tiptoed into the hall. The voices weren’t above whispers but loud enough now.
“I don’t recognize this place, Chris.” One shakes in fright.
“It’s new; maybe Mina moved.” Another suggests, hopefully.
Mina? Your grandmother's name was Mina… Are these people her- no…it couldn’t be. Your Grandmother was just an imaginative woman.
“Where are all her things then?” Another voice asks, much angrier and a bit louder than the other two.
“Calm down, Seungmin; just stay quiet, and we’ll figure out what’s going on.” A calming and authoritative voice demands.
You poked your head around the corner silently, gasping when your eyes took in the eight men standing around your living room, well, seven except for one, lying on your couch asleep.
One of them stood with his back to you, doing his best to calm the rest. “There’s someone there!” One of them alerted the others, finger raised to point at you.
Your fight-or-flight response was triggered, causing you to drop the book in your hands and flee to the nearest room, your bathroom, your windowless bathroom. You slammed the door shut and locked it tight, pushing your laundry basket in front of it as if the weight of it would do anything.
Moments later, there was a light knock on the door, and shadows appeared in the crack at the bottom. “Go away.” You whimper.
“We will. We just have a question.” The calm voice from earlier says.
“A few questions: where’s Mina?” A more demanding, upset voice asks.
“And why do you have the chimes?” A different voice, whimpering in fright like yours.
“Let me speak.” The first voice tells them. “Miss, please don’t be afraid.”
“How did you get into my apartment?” You demand to know, grabbing a razor from the shower as your weapon of choice.
“We’re small enough to fit through the hole on your doorknob.” He attempts to reassure you, making you laugh out of sarcasm.
“Small? I saw you!" You laugh out, unamused.
"Open the door." He requests gently. You could hear the others mumbling amongst themselves, still unsure as to exactly how many more men resided in your home. You knew there were at least 8.
"I'm going to call the police." You warn, even though the threat came out uneven and high-pitched.
"And tell them what?" The angry one remarks in a snicker from a distance, but you still hear him.
The man on the other side of the bathroom door sighed and stayed quiet for just a moment. "Where did you get those chimes?"
"Take them." You shake, assuming that must be what they're here for. Surely your Grandmother would understand and agree that your life is worth more than some strings and trinkets.
"I don't want the chimes." He assures you, not trying to break down the door, to your surprise. "They belonged to a friend. Do you know where we could find her? Her name is Mina."
"Mina is my Grandmother. She doesn't live here." Was. That's what you meant to say, but perhaps you could use that to your advantage. If you lied and told them she was somewhere else, they'd leave and give you time to think of what to do next.
"Y/N?" He asks out loud, and your blood runs cold. How on earth did he know your name? "That's your name, isn't it?" He speaks again after a silence follows his previous question.
Footsteps trail away from the door, and you think maybe they've given up and left. Until...
"Y/N," He begins again. "My name is Christopher, but you can call me Chris if you'd like. My friends...I asked them to step out for a moment. I just have a question."
You swallow, allowing him time to ask. You'd realized you left your phone by your bed in the chaos, so perhaps if you were civil, he and the others would leave.
"Something has happened to Mina, hasn't it?" He asks quietly, almost like he didn't want anyone else to hear. He sounded hurt by just the insinuation, and against your better judgment, you softened. You nodded with a tear sliding down your cheek, sniffling. Then you realized he couldn't see you.
"Yes." You choke quietly.
He stayed quiet for a moment, and you swore you heard him sniffle as well. "Alright then," He lets out a deep breath. "We'll be going, but please take down the chimes when we're gone? It's like a spotlight for us; we can't help but show up."
Footsteps trailed away until it was deafeningly quiet again. All you could hear was water slowly dripping from the broken tap on your tub. You eventually fell asleep on the cold tile, scared to leave the room for fear that the second you opened the door, you'd be grabbed.
A/N: That's the first chapter, and I'm already working on the second. I will admit I'm not happy about how this one turned out, but I hope to get better as the story goes on.