The Unexpected Gift

The Unexpected Gift

As I lay at the bottom of the marble staircase, broken and in pain, I held onto hope, praying for someone to find me. The thought of facing death alone was daunting, and I was determined to hang on to life. For the past hour, I had drifted in and out of consciousness, but the cold marble tile against my face anchored me, reminding me that I still had to fight. It was vital for me to stay awake, so I focused on how I had arrived at this moment only a few hours ago.

It was Christmas Eve, and for the first time, I found myself home alone, missing the love of my life. I sat with a box of tissues, immersed in emotional holiday movies, surrounded by scenes of families enjoying dinner together and couples celebrating their love.

With each tissue I reached for and every bowl of potato chips I munched on, memories flooded my mind. I remembered the joy of hosting Christmas dinners, decorating the tree, and cooking alongside my husband. Those moments were magical, filling my heart with both warmth and sadness. We were deeply in love, wholly immersed in the season, shopping for gifts, sending out cards, and doing everything that brought us joy. We made our memories together because we had only each other. I was adopted at an early age and knew nothing about my biological family. Maurice was estranged from his family. 

Cozy in my pajamas and ratty blue bear robe, I grabbed a pint of Breyer's Pistachio ice cream from the fridge. Suddenly, a loud banging at the front door caught me off guard. Annoyed, I thought, "This better be important!" This unexpected moment shifted my mood! How dare someone interrupt my moment of indulging in self-pity! I dashed to the door, brimming with curiosity and excitement. "Who is it?" I called out, my heart racing with anticipation. "Special delivery," a small voice replied from the other side, and at that moment, my mood brightened! My mind started racing with possibilities. Could it be a thoughtful gift from Maurice, a sweet gesture to make amends for his leaving? Hope blossomed within me as I wondered about the surprise waiting beyond the door.

With a burst of enthusiasm, I swung the door open, and to my astonishment, I was astonished by the unexpected sight of a scarecrow! This slender figure stood at least six and a half feet tall. I had to lean back to meet his dark, hooded gaze. His skin was ashen, almost ghost-like, which added to the surreal atmosphere.

A mix of fear and intrigue struck me, leaving me momentarily speechless. Finally, the scarecrow broke the silence, "Special delivery for a Ms." He paused, glancing down at the envelope, then continued, "A Ms. Emme Everbrite. Are you she?" His deep eyes seemed to pierce right through me, and somehow, despite the tremor in my voice, I managed to respond, "Yes, yes, that's me!" He handed me the envelope and a clipboard, prompting, "Sign here, please." I hurriedly scribbled my name before shutting the door.

I was thrashed back to reality as the pain intensified on that cold floor. I drifted asleep, my dreams returning to my childhood on a Bluff City, Tennessee farm. At the tender age of five, the Everbrites adopted me. They were an elderly couple who were devout Christians, active in their church community, attending services several evenings each week.

Life on the farm was quite an adventure! Far from the idyllic tales of "Charlotte's Web," my days were filled with hard work. Even when I was young, I learned to prepare meals, care for the animals, and tidy our home. Each day would end with me dragging myself to bed before rising with the roosters to begin again.

Then came the magic of school! I absolutely loved it. I thrived by making new friends and soaking up knowledge, and I was proud to earn good grades. I still had chores to tackle before and after school. The chores were a burden, but I did them as long as I could complete my homework. School was a stepping stone in my journey, and I did it with an open heart, ready for whatever came next!

What followed was graduation and a scholarship to journalism school. I felt sad to leave my friends, but I was happy to be leaving the farm and my adoptive parents, who were upset about my departure. They had made my life difficult.

I was jolted awake again by a clap of thunder followed by a flash of lightning that illuminated the entire room briefly. The electricity was out, and I had no idea how long I had been asleep.

The rejuvenating power of sleep allowed me to drag my body a little closer, moving from the foyer to the library entrance. I was sure that's where I left my cell phone.

Exhausted and mid-way from the foyer and the library, I once again went unconscious. My subconscious brought me to the moment I saw the house. This house is a breathtaking masterpiece, an embodiment of architectural grandeur adorned with intricate details that captivate the eye. Majestic columns soar upward at the entrance, their polished surfaces reflecting the sunlight and creating an enchanting atmosphere that beckons guests inside with promises of comfort and sophistication. 

With excitement bubbling inside me, I found the key and stumbled to unlock the grand front door. As I stepped inside, I was mesmerized by the beauty surrounding me. The stunning marble floor gleamed beneath my feet, and the elegant chandelier above lit up the vaulted ceiling. A circular stairway led straight ahead to the second level. Beautiful dark polished mahogany doors stood closed on either side of the foyer, hinting at the wonders waiting to be discovered.

I closed my eyes, stuck out my index finger, and pointed at each door as I recited an old childhood rhyme: "This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy cried all the way home!" As I finished, I pointed to a door on the left side of the foyer. That was the door to explore. As I walked towards it, the echo of my stiletto heels reverberated against the immaculate walls and marble floors.

The door was massive, probably eight feet in height. I had no idea what lay on the other side, and though I felt timid about opening it, my curiosity was overpowering. The door was adorned with various engravings. The most striking feature was the knob, which was glossy brass and stood out prominently against the intricate designs.

I turned the knob to the right, but nothing happened. When I turned it to the left, the door creaked open, seemingly welcoming me. Timidly, I stepped through the threshold. Stunned, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a library, with mahogany bookshelves reaching from floor to ceiling and a massive oak desk illuminated by Tiffany lamps. A rolling ladder stood against the shelves, and an iron circular stairway led to a loft above. Overstuffed chairs and antique tables were arranged in front of a grand fireplace, which boasted an assortment of brass candlesticks of all sizes and shapes on the mantle. The carpet was a deep blush color, like walking on a grass field. I envisioned climbing the ladder, grabbing a rare bestseller, and sinking into one of the plush chairs to read forever. After all, I am a journalist and a lover of books. This would surely be my favorite room. But I wanted to explore more.

And explore, I did. I moved on to the kitchen, which featured exotic stone countertops, a farmhouse sink, an enormous island, and a dual oven. Off the kitchen was a screened-in porch, which led to a wraparound deck that opened up to a yard adorned with statues and fountains. I imagined lounging on the deck or strolling through the gardens on a brilliant summer day.

I remember climbing the stairs to the second level. A chill surged when I reached the top, causing me to shiver. Suddenly, the lights went out. Someone pushed me, and I fell into slow motion down the stairs. I rolled over and over until, bam, I hit the floor! Stunned and still conscious, I cried out in pain, unable to move. Then, everything went black.

After closing the door on the scarecrow, I tore open the envelope. Inside was a handwritten note: "Ms. Emme Everbrite, you are the sole heir of the Kingsberry estate. The executor, Mr. Harroway, requests your presence at the reading of the will on this day, December 24, 2024, to claim your inheritance. Your estimated arrival time should be eleven pm, no sooner or no later. If you decide not to attend or cannot make it, your inheritance will be forfeited to the next of kin." I wondered who was playing a dirty joke on me. I examined the envelope; there was no return address. Inside, I found a key and directions to a very exclusive neighborhood.

I sat on the couch, enjoying my Breyer's Pistachio Ice Cream, no longer interested in the monotonous Christmas movies. The clock read half-past nine PM. If I decided to go out, it would take me at least an hour to get there, and the news had forecasted thunderstorms. I paced back and forth, going through all the "What ifs," "Why not," and "How comes" until I finally concluded, "Why not? What do I have to lose?" "What an unexpected gift!"

At nine forty-five PM, I was on the road to... where? My emotions were electrified as much as the impending storm, and I could hardly contain myself. I nervously drove on, following the GPS into this unfamiliar territory, literally and figuratively.

As I drifted in and out of sleep, I suddenly felt an unusual sensation, as if something was gently pulling me across the floor. The moment's intensity jolted me awake, and I instinctively resisted the strange force. In the dim light, I caught sight of a figure, a small, portly man cloaked in a long overcoat with a hat pulled low over his eyes. An eerie grin creased his face, revealing stained teeth. Gathering my courage, I called out, "Stop! You're hurting me... Who are you?"

To my surprise, he erupted into a laugh that echoed eerily in the night. "I'm your only living relative—your twin brother!" My heart raced, and I gasped, "That can't be true!"

"Oh, but it is! We were both in the same orphanage and unaware of our shared origins. You were adopted, while I faced the harsh reality of the streets after aging out. I discovered our biological parents; wealthy individuals who chose their lifestyle over their children, sending us to the orphanage. Meanwhile, I struggled to survive while you lived with your crazy religious adoptive family and then escaped to created a wonderful life of your own!"

He continued, his tone shifting dramatically. "I’ve kept an eye on you, even meeting your husband. I introduced him to his mistress and encouraged the affair. My intent was to wreak havoc on the lives of those who turned their backs on me. But I won't let you have the inheritance you don't deserve it, not after all I've endured."

Though the encounter was chilling, I remained hopeful. I resisted as he continued dragging me across the cool marble floor. I wasn't sure where the strength came from, but I began to pray. Suddenly, the front door burst open, revealing a couple of men, including some in police uniforms. "Help!" I cried. "He's trying to kill me!" My brother attempted to escape but was quickly apprehended by the police. 

I was carried into the library and placed on the couch. A very handsome man explained that he was the executor of the estate, Mr. Harroway. He was the one who had sent me the request to read the will. My brother was suspected of killing our biological parents and was expected to try to kill me to inherit the estate.

My twin brother went to jail for attempted murder. I received the best-unexpected gift: an estate worth millions, a mansion, and a chance to love again. I am healed from the encounter and engaged to the executor, Mr. Harroway. My brother denies all allegations and claims he was framed.