Gstaad, March 1914

‘Come closer,’ it called.

Father edged forward, eyes transfixed on the pillar of light that stretched up into the heavens. Its source laid unfastened in front of us.

‘I didn’t mean to open it, Pappa! I wasn’t trying to be naughty! I thought something was trapped inside! I heard voices!’

‘I know, Thomas… I know...,’ father murmured - without looking away from the enthralling casket. ‘You’re a good boy. I know.’

‘Come to me,’ the box cried. Its voice was soothing, bewitching, and yet there was a harsh undertone to it - something dark, something unsettling. ‘Come and see.’

‘Pappa, no!’ I shouted, tugging at his hand, trying to pull him back from it. It was no use, however. He was stronger than me. I knew he was really. We’d both pretend that I could beat him in an arm wrestle, but we both knew the truth.

I pulled and I pulled, and before long, I lost my grip, tumbling to the earth beneath me.

Father didn’t turn around. He didn’t check that I was OK, that I hadn’t hurt myself. All he was interested in was that box - that same box that had called to me for all these years.

‘Pappa, please!’ I begged, ‘Don’t touch it!’

‘Why?’ father asked, his voice even quieter, weaker, than before. ‘What’s inside?’

‘Hell,’ I replied.

* * *

104 Years Later

I’d never visited the cousins before. I’d met them, sure, but always back in London; Dad always insisted that he’d never return to Gstaad.

I should have asked him before he died. You never really expect someone to die, though, do you? Not even when their diagnosis is dire, their given time limited. You never really expect that it’s going to actually happen.

But it did.

Grandad Thomas came over to do the service. He was always good at that sort of thing, was always a religious man, ever since his youth. But he never converted the younger generations of the Weber clan.

He took me aside, at Dad’s funeral. Said I must come visit him and his daughter. The cousins missed me. I tried to tell him I would, but my words were lost in my throat, my voice not yet having returned to me. I simply nodded instead.

And then I forgot about my promise. In the midst of everything that was happening that day, in the midst of the strained conversations I had with my father’s friends, my promise was lost to me. That is, it was lost until I received a phonecall from him, many months later, telling me that he had purchased my tickets for me.

While the flight over was nothing special, the train down from Basel was out of this world. It weaved through the Swiss countryside, over hills and under mountains, through beautiful stretches of dense pine woodlands, and across bright green fields. If heaven was on earth, it was in Switzerland.

When I got out the pre-booked taxi in front of my aunt’s house, I took a moment to dump my luggage on the ground and appreciate the view that they had from their home. Perched high up on a hill, this house was a way away from the rest of town, and had a vantage point which looked onto a highlight reel of the Swiss landscape.

My moment of reflection was cut short when the front door opened, and a blurry shape sprinted towards me.

‘Daniel!’ a young woman’s voice cried out as its owner wrapped her arms around me. ‘It has been too long!’

Elena was the younger of the two cousins, now only seventeen, but I’d always been closer to her than I had been to Hans. When we were younger, and Elena and I’s three year age gap was more apparent, our parents would always expect that I would be more interested in hanging out with Hans instead - who was only a few months older. But Hans and I had little in common. Where I was extroverted, he was quiet, where I liked sports, he liked chess; these were vital divisions in the lives of teenagers. Now that we were adults, I hoped that we would find more in common.

‘Yeah, El, it really has.’

‘Mum’s just inside, shall I get her? I’ll get her.’

Without waiting for an answer, she rushed back inside the house. I picked up my bags and trudged through the front door, where I was welcomed in by my aunt.

‘Daniel! You are here! Why, how you’ve grown! I know I am not meant to say these things, but, my, you have.’

I smiled a polite smile. ‘Thanks. I think I’m the same height I was at the funeral, though.’

‘Yes, but…,’ aunt Mia gestured that she was talking about width, not height.

‘Oh,’ I replied, a bit taken aback. ‘I guess I have put on a couple of kilos…’

Mia laughed. ‘No! You are silly. I mean your shoulders. You have filled out. You are a man, now. And you look just like your father.’

I made maybe another hour or so of small talk before I dragged my bags upstairs to unpack. On the way, I peeked in a couple of the open doors. The first room was a mess, the floor covered with discarded clothes, and posters hanging from every inch of wall. This was El’s, then.

At first, I thought the next room was the spare, where I would be staying. While it was tastefully decorated, it was devoid of any personal touches, of any sign of sentiment. I stepped inside, looked around, and spotted a small journal on the desk, marked Hans Maurer. I made myself scarce before Hans returned to find me invading his space.

Finally, I arrived at the true guest room - made obvious by the small square of chocolate placed on the top of each pillow.

I took my shoes off, jumped onto the bed, and took a moment to relax after that long day of travel.

It was at this point that I first heard the voice.

‘Come and see,’ it said.