The Only One Left

My grandfather died with a secret I was never supposed to find. Last week,

cleaning out his attic, I discovered a locked metal box hidden beneath the floorboards.

No key. Just scratches around the lock like someone had tried to open it desperately.

The box was ice cold even though the attic was sweltering. I took it to a locksmith who refused to open

it. He said the metal was wrong, that it felt wrong, and he didn't want

it in his shop. That night, I heard scratching coming from my closet where I'd stored

the box. Slow, deliberate scratches from the inside. I grabbed a crowbar

and pried it open. Inside was a single photograph of my grandfather as a young man,