The Treasure Box: A Novel
Penelope J. Stokes
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Vita Kirk is a travel writer who has never left her hometown. In fact, she rarely leaves her house. Due to deep wounds and bitter losses, Vita has chosen isolation over vulnerability. But when she stumbles across an antique chest in a hole-in-the-wall boutique, she discovers a puzzling link to her past and her physical surroundings mysteriously begin to change. Inscribed in the treasure chest are the words, "Love is the key that unlocks every portal."
The power of these words prove to unlock a part of Vita she thought had died years ago.
"Stories like this go by many different names-fantasy, time-shift, magical realism. Some are overtly Christian or religious in nature, others are not. But from a spiritual perspective, the common thread in all these works is the redeeming, transforming power of God's grace not only to alter the future but to change our understanding of the past."--Penelope Stokes
kettle on. We’ll have ourselves a nice tea, with poached eggs and buttered toast and”— she paused and chuckled—“cake. Lots and lots of cake.” Rachel raised up on one elbow. “I’ll come and help you. But no cake!” Rose shook her head vigorously. “No work for you tonight, my girl. You stay here and rest. I’ll call you when it’s ready. I’ll get your sister to—” Her scalp tightened with apprehension. She had never seen her elder daughter at the church, but then there had been so much commotion. She
missing padlock. In the midst of her confusion and despair, an idea occurred to Vita—a tiny glimmer of light in the darkness. Maybe she hadn’t gone far enough in the Treasure Box program to discover what its images meant for her. Maybe there was more she needed to see before the pieces would all fall into place. She swallowed down the last of the lukewarm coffee, dashed through the living room into her office, and clicked on the computer. Even before Vita saw the scene that materialized on the
could not be real—could they? The curtain inside her head ripped open a little wider, and she recalled how she had debated for three weeks whether or not to answer the letter. But she did answer it, and discovered that the friendship she had cherished as a child was recoverable in adulthood. Although she and Hattie had, indeed, gone in different directions, they still shared vital interests and values in common. In the end, Vita’s best friend had been returned to her. As Vita scanned the other
tugging on her hand, a child toddled along beside her—a small girl with dark hair and brown eyes and a intense, determined expression. Someone else was in the dream, too—someone Vita could not see. From high above, she heard the voice speaking to her, encouraging her: “Walk the path God sets before you. It will lead you where you are meant to be.” Images confronted each other in Vita’s mind: the dual, paradoxical memories of being alone, as she had always been, and being here, in the “new”
the morning breeze, invisible footsteps across the wet grass, leaving a trail of diamonds in their wake. The show didn’t last long—nature’s demonstrations of glory never did. You had to keep your eyes open and take in the details before they vanished. Vita offered up a silent heartfelt thank-you, then turned back to the computer. The boot-up was finished, and there on her screen was her desktop with its wallpaper of the Blue Ridge Mountains surrounded by program icons. No starry sky, no voice