Mystery of the Trunk: Part 1
The dense fog weighed heavily on the ground, muffling most sounds of the early morning world. Through the white mist, the unmistakable sound of heavy equipment working began penetrating the white vale. Warming sunrays slowly infuse the morning air with a golden light from overhead. Almost hidden from view the sounds of wooden timbers cracking could be heard with in the muffled sounds of a diesel engine.
Silhouetted against the emerging sunlight in the mist, the large crane appeared to be a giant beast ripping apart the old brick building. The dying structure gave no resistance as its life now came to an unceremonious end. Between each attack from the cranes claw like bucket, the building stood silent waiting for the next attack of the crane. Each pass of the machines arm removed one more piece of the building. It would carry the material in it’s grasp, high in the air, before releasing it into a waiting dump truck. Once filled, the truck would lumber away to move the broken wood and bricks to its final resting place.
Bill Handleson had torn down many buildings over the years and to him it was simply an old building and it was his job that day to remove. Tomorrow he would most likely move on to the next demolition job. He never thought about the lives the structure had affected over its long life. The building his crane was now destroying, had served many purposes over the years to the community. Some simply knew it as the county poor farm. Others knew it to be the county nursing home. In its last stages of life, it was home to members of the community who had no place to call home, except this old brick structure. It may have not been much, but to its residence it was home.
Bill could remember going with his parents when he was young to visit a family friend in this place. That person’s health was not good and the county nursing home was the only place that could help him back in those days. The people in this place felt the world had forgotten them. For Bill, it was a terrible place to visit. It seemed to him it was a place people came to die and not be a burden to distance family members. He could remember as he entered, lonely residents of the home waited at the door for anyone to stop and talk with them. Their aged voices mixed together, as they would tell him of family that would visit every Christmas or Mothers Day. The lonely crush of the old frightened Bill as he stayed close to his parents to feel safe. The people only waited someone to talk with, not to frighten the young boy. Loneliness can be worse than no life at all. The darkened hallways and the unpleasant smells of that long ago place still lingered in Bill’s memory.
Bill pushed those past memories of this building from his thoughts as he tore down the old structure that had frighten him so many years earlier. He moved the crane back and forth, removing more of the building with each pass of the equipment’s claw. As the morning fog faded, it revealed the final existence of the building.
Tearing down large structures is a job that requires skills in removing a building at a controlled rate that protects the equipment operator and others in the area. Bill’s actions were each carefully thought through to prevent large portions of the building falling too quickly. He operated his equipment like a child playing pick up sticks. Remove a piece of structure so as not to move or disturb a wall that might be supporting large parts of the building. His skill in picking up those pieces in correct order brought down the old building safely and quickly.
Near the middle of the building, a stairwell stood undisturbed by the cranes destruction. Bill paused for a moment to calculate where to remove the tall stairwell and not bring down that section of the building onto a nearby power pole. Now that the fog had lifted, the morning sun began to penetrate the cranes cab, warming the cramped interior. The increase warmth prompted Bill to remove his jacket as he studied the silent standing stairwell. He opened the cranes top window to let in the cool morning air as he now moved the cranes arm into position to remove the final section of the structure.
As the machine’s claw closed on the top of the wooden structure, the sounds of crushing wood gave out a mournful moan as it gave into its final destruction. The crane’s claw lifted a load of debris and swung it towards where the truck should have been. But, there were no waiting trucks, so Bill decided to climbed out of his cab and stretch his legs, cooling off in the morning air. The fog was now almost gone as morning now had fully arrived.
As Bill walked over to look at the remaining portion of the stairwell to determine his next move, he noticed something unusual protruding out from under a portion of the damaged steps. He could only see part of what appeared to be a small trunk. The kind of container once known as a steamer trunk. Its location made it dangerous to try to retrieve by hand. But after a few moments of thought, he knew he could move his crane bucket into position and gently retrieve the trunk undamaged.
As Bill powered up his crane, a column of black smoke shot up from the diesel engine stack as Bill returned his crane to operating power levels. As gently as if he were removing a precious jewel, he moved the large claw bucket into position just above the corner of the trunk. Slowly he lowered it down until he could see the closed jaws just above the exposed corner. With the gentle touch of a surgeon, he opened the buckets grip and picked up the trunk. Slowly he moved it away from its hidden resting place.
The crane moved its’ cargo slowly away from the old building and into the waiting morning light. As gently as he picked it up he now placed it on the grass near the edge of the road. Bill felt a rush of curiosity as he climbed down from the cab of his crane and hurried over to the small dusty wooden trunk.
The trunk was about three feet long and a couple feet high. The metal hinges were deeply rusted and darken with age. Cracks were deeply embedded into the dry wood that made up the trunks construction. The lock on the box was in place but its owner had not closed it when it was last opened. Perhaps its long lost owner had intended for the trunks secrets to be easily revealed to its future finder.
Bill removed the lock and paused before opening someone’s lost possessions. He wondered whose past life he was about to enter. Grasping each corner he slowly lifted the trunks cover to reveal what may be inside.
He sat back on his heels as he first looked at the trunks contents with eyes full of wonderment and amazement. But most of all, questions.