Aella 10, - Curiosities Previously: When Aella was nine a stranger murdered her mother and cursed her in a ploy to steal the key her family has protected for generations. For years she has been isolated, condemned that whenever the sun shines she must be a mermaid, but now she has found her way to the sleepy village of Willingham and acquired the help of Molly Tillinghast, an elderly but formidable friend.     Molly Tillinghast made herself comfortable on one of the large boulders which littered the beach and watched the sunset. There had been a time when she had come here regularly at nightfall but that had been decades ago. She found herself admiring the moment with new eyes. The sky was transformed: gentle blue had given way to fiery reds and orange highlights as the golden sun dipped majestically behind the hills. The colours made the familiar horizon strange and exciting, framed by vibrant shades and the occasional gold-tinged cloud. It was magical.     The old woman shifted on her make-shift seat and glanced back at the ocean. The waves glistened in the sunlight, their shimmering greens and blues a shining contrast to the molten Western sky as they chased each other onto the soft, pale sand.     It had been far too long since Molly had come here. She was glad that she had arranged to meet Aella at the shore, glad that she had met Aella.     She had prepared for this meeting, spending the afternoon confusing local shopkeepers with her strange purchases. That done, she had come here to wait. No-one had bothered to ask her why.     If anyone had really noticed old Molly Tillinghast slowly making her way to the seafront as the afternoon drew to a close they had merely shook their heads and sighed. The people of Willingham were far too busy arguing with their insurance agencies to pay much attention to the eccentric old woman. Molly was prone to do as she saw fit and the community was used to her strange ways.     The last of the sun finally slipped behind the horizon.     Molly turned back to the ocean. It was different now, the last of the sun’s rays might still paint the sky but the sea had been abandoned. Without the sun it was dull and grey, lonely and restless. It seemed somehow empty. Most likely it was only Molly’s imagination that made her wonder if the sea was mourning the loss of more that just sunlight.     A girl was pulling herself to her feet at the water’s edge.     She stood out immediately from the normal beach-goers. Her top was of the same material as a swimming suit and was all the colours of the sunset; her sequinned skirt echoed the brightness of the sun-lit sea. A silver key hung from a ribbon on her wrist. Hair fell down below her waist in soaking tendrils, newly tucked behind her ears to frame her pale face. The most distinctive feature was her eyes, lonely, mysterious and as deep as the sea; sad, serious eyes that had not seen sunlight for six years.     Aella spotted the old lady waiting for her and hurried to meet her new friend. Molly could not help but return the girl’s smile.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“You came!” The girl sounded almost surprised.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“So I did. And I brought you a few things.” Molly promised, pulling a towel out of her bag. She studied the teenager as she dried herself; up close she could see the various cuts and scrapes Aella had picked up during her adventure last night and how she was shivering in the chill breeze.     When everything but her hair was dry Aella turned her mind to business, “You said that you knew somewhere I might be able to research my…problem.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“All in good time. First you’re going to get a warm meal inside you and you’ll need these.” This time Molly produced a pair of flip flops and a warm woollen wrap, “There’s no need for you to end up in the state you were last night every time you’ve got to get to my place.”     The coat was slightly large but it was hard to find ill-fitting flip flops. Aella looked slightly daunted by the mention of another trek through town. It struck Molly as sad that a girl so friendly and full of life should be so uncomfortable around other people.     She needn’t have worried though. The streets were almost deserted and the few villagers still out didn’t so much as glance at the pair. Aella insisted on carrying the bag but Molly refused help, preferring to make do with her crutches than lean on the girl who looked as if she could shatter at any moment.     They walked in silence. Aella spent the journey gazing around all the time at her strange new surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Molly noticed that the girl was also fascinated with her own reflection in the shop windows they passed. It was probably natural, she thought. Aella hadn’t seen herself in six years and she’d grown rather significantly in that time. It would be a while until she recognised herself properly again.     It wasn’t until they reached Molly’s cottage that Aella relaxed, daring to smile again as they slipped inside the warm, cosy home. Molly was relieved to see her open up again. She had become wary and guarded during the walk through the village. At her age she should have piles of friends, the old lady thought, not this isolation.     What she said was, “Food should be just about ready to bring out of the oven. You set the table while I serve.”     It had been six years since Aella had sat down at a table to eat a hot meal. The kitchen was warm and safe and she and Molly chatted readily about absolutely nothing. Outside the world waited with its trials and terrors. The pair basked in the pleasure of each other’s company and knew that they were no longer alone.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“My first impression of the Willingham Museum of Curiosities was of dust and shadows. Then I looked past the gloom of the only working light bulb and the profusion of strange exhibits took my breath away.     The room was packed wall to wall with more oddities than I had ever dreamed of fitting into one building let alone just part of it. Every surface was crammed with strange finds of all descriptions. Neatly handwritten labels promised a wealth of history and knowledge. It was a collection put together lovingly for the discovery of others, a place that welcomed people to browse through mysteries and learn of wonders, somehow that made me feel sad.     After its curator’s death the museum had been abandoned. No-one had wanted the job of running it. It was too time consuming and came with far too little pay. The only person who cared about what became of it was Molly and on her own the best she could do was keep the old building from being torn down. So it had gathered dust as the world went by.     Tentatively exploring I had the distinct impression of emptiness. This place was meant for people to enjoy and now it was deserted. A cleared out desk stood silent testimony to a lost and happy past. I counted three stopped clocks and found myself filled with irrational pity for a stone and mortar ghost.     Molly pointed out some of the more unusual of the exhibits. The area had a somewhat anomalous past and a museum devoted to local history was liable to have at least a few useful resources.     The next room was devoted to the fishing industry that had once been dominant in Willingham. A whole wall filled with photographs of former residents. The room after that was local legends; it seemed Willingham had no shortage of ghost stories.     A glimpse of something out the corner of my eye stopped me in my tracks.     Hidden in one corner between a ship in a bottle that claimed to be a miniature replica of the Amber Crow and the journal of a lighthouse keeper who had gone insane while on duty in 1885 was a faded parchment in a wooden frame. It was the frame that had caught my eye; it was plain and undecorated with the exception of a carving in the bottom left corner, a detailed picture of a key. The Key. There could be no mistaking it, the carving was so accurate that whoever made it must have had the Key right in front of them. Brushing the dust away I could see that each tiny rune was perfectly replicated.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“What have you found?” Molly asked, peering at it curiously. It took me a moment to realise that she didn’t know the Key like I did – from farther back than I dared remember – and so hadn’t made the instant connection that had so stunned me.     I held the Key up beside the carving to show her. “I don’t know.”     According to the label this was an illuminated verse from the 14th century that had probably gained its frame around 1862 when it had passed through the hands of Wilbur Parody. Borrowing Molly’s handkerchief I carefully began to clean away the thick layers of dust obscuring the words behind the glass. I could barely make out that there was text on the parchment through so much neglect.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Ancient treasure…”     The first few words sent an odd shiver through me. I paused for a moment to try to understand what I was missing. Something was setting off subconscious alarm bells but I couldn’t quite grasp what.     A few lines later I gasped with surprise.     The words I had revealed were ancient, cryptic and terribly familiar. I stared mutely at the start of a riddle I knew far too well.     "Ancient treasure beneath the sea,     Resting where it's dreamed to be…"     I had come to the right place.” Aella More stories by me can be found at Rhiannon’s Stories. Rhiannon Rose Watson Concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2010 reserved by Rhiannon Rose Watson. The right of Rhiannon Rose Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved.