closed starter for @protectisms
It should be in a museum.
That was the most frequent thing said about the carving, nestled on black velvet inside of an otherwise plain box. It had a hand written label on the top that simply read Netsilik amulet - walrus tusk. The carving itself appeared to be a polar bear with a long, outstretched, neck and its limbs held close to its body.
The sentiment that it should have been in a museum was repeated far more frequently than the more truer one: that it should be returned to the people who made it. What was undoubtedly true, regardless, was the fact that it shouldn't have been up for private sale. And it most certainly shouldn't have made its way to the Eastern United States, in the suburban home of Jeremy Baker.
Jeremy justified the purchase with his fascination with the Arctic, and the doomed Franklin Expedition. Apparently, the amulet had been discovered on King William Island, in an area the expedition was rumored to have crossed. It had been an incredible find, both for the world, and for Jeremy -- who couldn't believe that it was available for private sale. There was a good chance that it was a fake, but he couldn't risk it being real and him missing out. He bought a few scraps of worn paper along with it that were equally as suspect. Maybe he'd get them appraised in the future, but for now... he'd put them in his display case.
It was smaller than he had expected, but heavy in his hand. It felt good to rub his thumb over all of the grooves carved into the walrus bone, but it always made something in his hand kind of...ache.
The dreams didn't start immediately and he really wouldn't have thought much about them. He'd been fascinated with the Arctic since he was a child, and that lead to him dreaming about it often. What made the dreams different was the pervasive sense that he was being followed. Watched.
It bled over into the waking world. Every once in awhile, he would feel the hair go up on the back of his neck -- like a prey animal in the sights of a predator. But there was nothing there. Nothing to trigger the alarm bells.
Then his wife and daughter started to complain about weird dreams. Dreams of desolation and ice, dreams of a frozen sea. His daughter woke the whole household up screaming that there was a bear with human eyes looking at her through her window.
Things only got worse from there.
Jeremy's wife, Sarah, was the one to reach out to the Warrens. She held the phone cradled against her head, rocking herself in place while she waited for someone to pick up on the other end.
