The Prayer Book

I wrote this story for Furious Fiction for September. My inspiration comes from an actual prayer book which belonged to my aunt. But the story is entirely fictional.

Mum and I were the only ones that lived close by.  It had fallen to us to go through Grandma’s things ready for the sale of the house.  We approached the stately old home with tears in our eyes.

Despite my grief at losing my beautiful Grandma, such a special part of my life, I felt a spark of excitement at the opportunity to explore some of her precious belongings.

“I am going to start in the attic,” I said to my mother.

“Fine,” she replied. “I will start out here”. She went through to the lounge room.  As she did, I noticed the wall hanging that I had always admired.  A beautiful depiction of the four elements, earth, wind, fire and water.  Teardrop shapes in shades of green, dark blue, orange, and pale blue woven into a circular design.  Grandma had been a spiritual person but not in the religious sense.  She had been born a catholic but had deserted her faith years ago.

As I lowered the staircase and ventured into the dark attic, I wondered what treasures I would find.  I flicked the switch, and this seldom visited world was bathed in light.  As I looked around, I was immediately drawn to a small suitcase sitting on a shelf. 

I swept the dust off the lid and clicked open the two catches and knew immediately I had found some of the treasures I had hoped to uncover.  I sat looking at the assortment of papers, photos and momentos, not sure whether I was game to touch them. Some of them seemed rather moth eaten, and I hoped silverfish had not done too much damage.

I picked up some of the photos and gazed at the people so beautifully captured.  There was a photo of a stern looking man dressed in stiff suit with a high white collar.  He was seated at the front, whilst the women stood at the rear with her hand on his shoulder.  Grandma gazed back at me.  I continued exploring the items, reading some of the documents, and weighing the mementos in my hand.  Then I saw it.  A small leather-bound book with “The Treasury of the Sacred Heart” embossed in gold lettering on the front.  Obviously, someone’s treasured prayer book, though I doubted it would be Grandmas.  I opened it at a random page and carefully leafed through the tissue thin pages.  I opened the front cover.   There in her own hand, was my great aunts name and the recordings of the deaths of her mother and father and her two brothers, including dates and times. I could not believe it.  I looked at it with delight and the tears began to flow again.  Grandma had obviously loved her sister, as why else would she keep the prayer book which meant so little to her but would have been incredibly important to her sister.  I suppose only a family historian can really understand what a treasure this is.