Heirloom

Grace scrunched her nose, partly because of the overpowering stench of dust and rotting cardboard, partly because the bag that she had found was the ugliest thing she had ever seen.

"What is this?" she exclaimed.

Her mother barely glanced over. "Oh, that old thing. My grandmother gave it to me, although she said I would have no use for it. I kept it but maybe it's time to add it to the car boot. Pass it over and I'll wash it."

Grace hardly thought anything of it, skimming it across the floor of the attic. She didn't think of it again until she found it propped atop the dryer in the laundry room. Newly cleaned, it was still ugly but she supposed it had its charm. Or it had done, back in the day.

Her fingers brushed against the material, wincing at its coarseness. Grace couldn't begin to understand why anybody would have a bag made out of carpet. Hearing her mother call for the bag, she picked it up, swinging it slightly in her hand as she went to the kitchen.

She halted, brow furrowing, before continuing on her way. Then she stopped again. Frustrated, she opened the bag and found it empty. Strange. It sounded as if something was sliding around inside, although she wasn't sure what. Leaving the bag on the kitchen table, she heard a faint thump. One that was heavier than it should have been.

"Can you hear that?" Grace frowned, shaking the bag. The sliding noise could still be heard.

"Hear what?" Her mother was flicking through an old magazine that she was meant to throw away.

"That sound."

"I can't hear anything."

With growing irritation, Grace went back to her room. She didn't have time to wonder what was wrong with that stupid bag. It was empty; she was sure of it.

Ø

Hearing her mother's call for help, she helped carry the filled boxes into the boot of the car, her mother staying behind to wedge them with little success into the available space. Grace purposefully avoided the bag, leaving it till last. Eventually, she knew she would have to pick it up.

She did so, a little hesitantly, and huffed loudly in surprise as her body bent forwards. It was ridiculously heavy. Impossible and yet, she heaved it upwards with both hands before dropping it onto the kitchen table.

"What is going on?" she demanded to nobody in particular.

Yanking it open, she blinked in astonishment, finding that the bag was filled to the brim with various items. This was her mother's doing, she reasoned. They were for sale too. Yet, she had never seen these items before. A yellow measuring tape, a thermometer, a pack of dominoes, a hefty collection of postcards from all over the world- tied together with string, an assortment of letters- all with the same name, two bars of packaged soap, and a copy of the Ladies Journal. They were only a small part of what lay inside.

Grace plunged her hand inside, finding, to her surprise, that she couldn't feel the bottom. Reaching further down, all the way to her shoulder, she still couldn't decipher where the bag ended. Heart pounding, she yanked her arm back out again. It was impossible, improbable, downright absurd… And yet, the items did not disappear. Not even after she closed the bag and opened it again.

Atop the scattered letters, all addressed to a Mary Alfred, Grace saw another letter that was addressed to her. A number of pages that ended with- It took you long enough.

Grace wasn't sure who this person was, although she knew her mother's maiden name had been Alfred and that her great-grandmother had been called Mary… Still, it didn't make sense. She wanted to throw it all away, pretend it never happened. But when her mother asked where the bag had disappeared to, Grace told her that it would be a shame to get rid of such a holdall. It was part of their family, after all.

Confused, her mother hadn't said anything, unsure of why she would want to keep such an ugly thing. Grace couldn't have explained herself, even if she wanted to. Besides, the letter had told her that she should never explain anything.

This is partly inspired by Darling Pretty's story where a descendant of Mary's, one way or another, uses the umbrella. I guess it gave me the idea to do a prompt like this but also to make it clear, that's where the similarities end. I hope so anyway because I haven't read the story in a while, so it would be unintentional. Anyway, hope you enjoy as i know this isn't exactly al character from the MP universe.

And also, go read Darling Pretty's stories if you can. They really inspired me back before I started writing for MP.