The Victorian house has been a beloved part of our family for many years, as the silent witness to all our joys and human afflictions. The spirits of our ancestors are muted but still carried through the walls, with the unspoken tales lying in the deep dark. It triggers a curiosity that dwells deep within the core, and there is the old-dusty trunk. For hundreds of years it stood unchanged as a of mark of the past. The book seemed to call me as I moved ahead with the weathered ,worn out leather outside and the rusted, dirty copper clasps on it. But it didn’t come true until one rainy afternoon, when the noise of clamoring rain against the window of the empty house was louder than any call in the world. It was then that I decided to answer its endless warning and to give it with some respect.
My fear and curiosity were shooting in each side as I moved into the dimly lit basement and my eyes were fixed on the trunk which was the reason that I was summoned down. What was hidden in the mystery of this planet remained to be discovered? What secrets had been withdrawn by the actions of my ancestors from the public eye? Thus, I shaked slightly and spun the latches on without any hesitation, revealing the inner parts of a chest loaded with mementos and disclosures. The ribboned letters, the faded photographs with their occult visitors, and the writings that blurred from insignificance and wrote of times and stories long hidden all came flowing suddenly, as though they had been freed from their captivity.
On the other side, as I contemplated the arts, there was one diary that was kind of secretly owned by my great-grandmother that I came across with. Our diary is a complete story of such candid experiences and sensitive facts which I have never been brave enough to vocalize. With each sentence of hers I was drowned in the fertile waters of deepening understanding where altered all my family relations and the place they occupied within the society. The mystery of what the secret was had multiple pieces hidden like a puzzle, one after another until they pieced together a story violent narration. Betrayal, clandestine romantic adventures, and old quarrels are the unavoidable circumstances that pursue the bloodline but nevertheless, the spirit remains defiant in the face of the threat.
Along the way I found myself uncovering more and more truths, all of which I had never expected to happen and which taught me that there is more complexity to human nature than we think. The main things I realized and fully accepted after overcoming ignorance is that the truth is not perfect and it can never be. When I lowered the trunk, I proposed a thought: not all secrets should come out, their weight too much for little people to bear. However, when I turned back the footsteps of the past sounding in my ear, I experienced a feeling of the purpose, and I felt no doubts about the truth eventually.
We were faced with the dilemma of using them to separate or narrate our story of being better human beings. By chance, my family reassembled in order to share love rather than a generic tie that cannot be obtained through marriage ceremony. Thus, I realized that the secret treasure that exists behind the basement door presented more than a solution to our problem but a pearl that wiped away all our sins to get us saved.