Storm Warning [FICTOID]

“It must be up here somewhere,” the headmistress told her young charges in the attic.  “Start looking.”

The young girls looked apprehensive.  Junk framed the attic of the boarding school:  Dusty old trunks, wooden crates, cardboard boxes, stacks of old textbooks and magazines, all strewn with countless spider webs.

The head mistress clapped her hands sharply.  “No dawdling!  Go find it -- quick!”  

The girls split up, poking around in the attic.  They searched for a pair of ancient binoculars, left behind by the headmistress’ sea-faring uncle when he came ashore for the last time.

One of the little girls shrieked, alarming the others.  The headmistress hurried over to see what she found.

The little girl pointed inside an old trunk she just opened.  There, curled up in a fetal position, lay a small skeleton.

The headmistress slapped the child on the back of her head.  “Stop playing around – find the binoculars!”

“But who is that?” the little girl wailed.

“That’s Eloise,” said the headmistress, slamming the trunk shut.  “The binoculars clearly aren’t in here.  Look elsewhere.”

“But how did she get in the trunk?”

“How else?  We put her there.”

“But why?”

“Why not?  She was dead.”

“But wouldn’t her parents want her back?”

“They still owe money on her tuition.  Hey said because she died before completing the term they didn’t need to pay the balance of her tuition.”

“How long has she been here?” another girl asked.  She was a quiet one, more studious, less flighty than the rest.

“About fifty years,” said the headmistress.  “I was just a young teacher at the time.”

“I don’t think they’re going to pay,” said the studious girl.  “You might as well ship her back and be done with her.”

“No point to it,” said the headmistress.  “Her parents died years ago.  Keep looking.”

Several hours later another girl squealed in delight.  “I found it!”

The headmistress shoved aside the other girls to snatch the big, brass antique binoculars away from their discoverer.  She peered through them, smiling with delight.  “Yes, these are my great-granduncle’s binoculars!”

She didn’t praise or thank the child for finding them.

To the students in the attic she said, “All right, put everything back where you found it, then go downstairs and do your homework.  Lights out in thirty minutes.”

“You should either give us more time to study or else excuse us tonight.  After all, we came up here at your instruction to look for tbhose binoculars.”

“Just for that, no gruel for you tomorrow!”

“That’s hardly the threat you think it is.”

“Oh, really?  Well, then -- double servings of gruel for you!”

The headmistress smiled when she saw a wave of distress pass over the studious girl’s features.

Later that night – after they came down and finished their homework and went to bed – the headmistress preened over her prize.

It’s mine, uncle, mine! she thought.

She spent decades deciphering the complex code he wrote his ship’s log in, searching for some clue where he hid his magical binoculars.

The old sea-dog’s binoculars can spot any storm in any part of the world.

Uncle used these binoculars to safely sail the seven seas.  I’ll use them to make a killing in insurance – and then I can finally be done with this wretched school!”

© Buzz Dixon