Day 262 - Artifacts Story

Artifacts Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Gerald had been an artifact collector, so his son Scott had become an artifact collector, but his father had given him this warning – stay away from family artifacts and heirlooms. If and when Gerald finally did die, he told Scott not to take or keep anything. He had taken many precautions to have his possessions sold, recycled or destroyed, all through an independent contractor. Gerald wanted Scott to stay out of it. Still, Gerald was well aware that he couldn’t plan everything in advance. When closing out an estate there was a very good chance his next of kin would have to be involved in some fashion. He warned Scott over and over and pleaded with him, making Scott promise not to personally touch anything and to use someone unconnected with the family to do whatever remained that needed doing. Scott privately laughed about his father’s precautions, but publicly he made every promise his father wanted made. Scott didn’t believe in everything that his father believed in, but he did trust the man. It didn’t matter if the danger was real, what mattered was that his father believed it was real. Scott knew that when the time came, he would do as his father asked. When the time did come, Scott did just exactly that.

Scott’s father had died six years ago, when Scott was forty-three. Scott had no next of kin of his own, but was pretty sure that if he did, he wouldn’t go out of his way to scare his son with the same lessons Gerald had scared Scott with. But Scott didn’t know that. He couldn’t know that. Not until he was faced with a son of his own. Not that that seemed likely with the current situation being what it was. But still, Scott didn’t know what his future would bring. He did know that he had seen enough and believed enough of what his father believed to be at least somewhat cautious. There were enough strange and dangerous things in the universe that Scott knew for sure that all his father’s warnings came with at least an ounce of truth.

Scott went to a lot of estate auctions. He liked the artifacts of the recently dead. Those held the freshest of the leftover spiritual energies. Scott had his father’s ability – the ability to recognize the spiritual and magical power in an object. Telepathic Animism ran in the family. Scott didn’t know how many generations it went back, but from what his father had said, it went back many.

They saw things differently. Their powers were alike, but different. Gerald was into peace and harmony and finding the objects that promoted balance and wisdom. Not Scott. Scott liked finding the objects that contained certain key elements – love, loss, and regret – the really powerful emotions. Usually he could find that in the jewelry... Not the fancy stuff. Not the things that people only wore once or twice in a lifetime if at all. The things that had the most juice were the everyday items – the items they wore on a regular basis, that were with them when all the major events in their life occurred. Those had the most energy. Those had the real spirit of the person. It was a real connection.

Gerald had warned Scott.  Stay away from family. Family was strong. It was too close. There was too much of a personal connection back to them and their bloodline. Scott would be consumed by it – absorbed by it instead of absorbing it. Scott had a strong bloodline. They were thick and determined. They didn’t give up on life easily. Gerald thought it was dangerous. Deadly.

He was a scared man, and received what he deserved, thought Scott. He was cautious to a fault. Scott would be smart, but he wouldn’t be that cautious. Scott was after power – power that his father was never able to achieve.

At estate auctions Scott could usually make out the aura of exactly the item that he wanted. He tried to negotiate to buy single items, but sometimes had to buy whole lots of junk just to get the one thing he was after. He threw most of it out. Most of that had nothing worth taking.

There was the occasional bidder than saw things the way Scott saw them. He had the price driven up on him a few times. It used to make him mad – he was not a rich man from a rich family. But Scott started making friends and cutting deals and for the most part he and the few others began to stay out of each other’s way and even set up a trade and swap system to unload unwanted relics.

During one sale, Scott fell in love with a ring. He didn’t know whose it was or have a complete family history for the seller. But it was beautiful with an amazing green energy flow. Scott usually had an apprentice or partner or friend handle the items first. Scott didn’t like to touch a lot of items. He didn’t want unwanted feelings or emotions getting in the way of what he did. He didn’t want to feel the entire history of everything he handled. He didn’t need to know that much of the past, when usually it was something pointless.

But this ring... it was a glorious ring.

And he was all alone at this auction.

Scott bid more money than he had money to afford. He had to have it.

For once he wanted to wear the ring before he destroyed it.

He could feel the power rippling throughout his body as he slipped it on.

It was incredible.

Then, he felt something else…

He wasn’t sure what he felt.

It was old. And tough. And vicious.

It took a bite out of Scott and dug its claws in. Scott didn’t know what was happening and it was happening too fast for him to figure it out.

Something was inside him. Some spirit. Some life.

The ring… it had been the ring.

Scott felt something familiar yet foreign. He felt something that was a part of him.

An ancestor.

Somehow he had arranged for Scott to find the ring. He put it in Scott’s path. Made sure Scott was alone that day and that Scott would see it and become infatuated enough to touch it.

So many generation ago. So many steps removed. But not enough. It didn’t matter. This was a powerful man, a powerful ancestor.

A family of warlocks, witches and sages. They were not prone to give up on life. They were not easily defeated, even in the face of death. There was always another way, and this ancestor had found one.

His father had warned him. His father had told him to steer clear of family. Gerald must have known this was possible. This was what any of them could have done. Gerald, who lived his live in such constant fear, turned out to have gotten a thing or two correct. Somewhere his spirit must have been laughing at Scott.

The spirit invaded Scott. It ripped and clawed into him and tried to push him out. It wanted his body. It wanted his life. It wanted to be again.

“Fuck that,” thought Scott. This thing might be his ancestor back for an unwanted visit, but Scott was just as much a member of his bloodline as this spirit thing was. Scott, too, was stubborn and strong and a bit of a prick. Scott was not the type to go quietly – he wasn’t about to lose his body without a fight. If his great great great piece-of-shit whatever it was wanted to start a war, Scott was going to give him a war.