The Mysterious Knick-Knack
Mystery has always been a part of my
life, and many of those mysterious events have found their way into my
paranormal novels. Today, I want to take you back to a pivotal moment from my
childhood—a moment that hinted at the incredible and unexpected journey my life
would take. Join me as I share this story with you—one that shaped the path I
never saw coming. Enjoy!
A Tale of
Fate and Nostalgia
It was 1961, and at the ripe age of
eight, I had already earned a reputation as a shopaholic. I adored my trips to
the local dime store—just a stone's throw from home—where my mother and I would
explore aisles brimming with everything from candy to curious little treasures.
For me, it was nothing short of a treasure hunt.
One day, my mother sent me and a few
friends to the market to pick up a few dinner items. Now, I know what you’re
thinking—why would a parent let an eight-year-old wander off to a store alone?
But in our small town, everyone knew everyone else, and back then, it was a
different time. It wasn’t unusual for kids to run errands without an adult.
I don’t remember exactly what prompted
me to veer off the path that day, but something—some inexplicable pull—led me
into the Ben Franklin dime store. As I roamed the familiar aisles, my eyes
landed on something that would spark a mystery spanning decades: a tiny ceramic
figurine of a brown lady. She stood about two and a half inches tall, dressed
in a brown polka-dotted dress, with a tiny pot in hand, featuring a hole for a
candle. She was placed on a lower glass shelf among other knick-knacks, and for
some reason, I felt an undeniable connection to her.
I don’t recall exactly how I ended up
buying her, but I paid $9.00—a hefty sum for the time. When I returned home, my
mother was less than thrilled about my impulse purchase. She was especially
upset by the price. After all, $9.00 seemed like an outrageous amount for such
a small item. She suspected the store had made an error or that it belonged to
a set, so we made our way back to the store to get some answers.
The manager examined the little
figurine carefully, rolling it between his fingers, and inspecting every inch
of it. After looking through the store’s inventory, he was baffled. He couldn’t
understand how it ended up on the shelf. His skeptical gaze made it clear he
thought I might have brought it in myself.
Despite the mystery, my mother decided
we’d keep the little brown lady as a memento of that unusual shopping trip. I
placed her on my bedroom dresser, still puzzled as to why I had been so drawn
to her.
What I didn’t realize at the time was
that this tiny knick-knack would hold the key to a journey that would unfold
forty years later.
***
Fast forward to 2008, a year that
brought unimaginable sorrow. Within just three months, I lost both of my
parents to cancer. As if that wasn’t enough, my husband and I both lost our
jobs, and it felt like we had fallen into a dark abyss.
But fate had other plans. In the
spring of the following year, my husband received a job offer in the Cayman
Islands. He accepted, and just like that, we were off to Grand Cayman—a fresh
start that lasted nine years.
Our first week there was blissful. We
explored the stunning beaches, visited local tourist spots, and reveled in the
beauty of the island. But when my husband started work the following week, I
found myself with some free time. I ventured into Georgetown, the island’s main
town, to check out the shops.
One shop in particular caught my eye.
It was filled with vibrant Caymanian and Jamaican gifts and
collectibles—souvenirs from the island’s Jamaican community. As I wandered the
aisles, something familiar caught my attention: a collection of small, colorful
dolls. They resembled my little brown lady from all those years ago.
I asked the shop clerk about them, and
she explained they were called Jamaican Colonial Dolls. I couldn’t help but
smile and share the story of my little ceramic treasure. He nodded knowingly
and said, “Guess you were meant to be here.”
At that moment, it dawned on me—this
was no coincidence. That small, mysterious knick-knack I’d bought so long ago
had led me to this island for a deeper understanding of the strange and
beautiful connections life sometimes offers.
Sometimes, the smallest things are the most profound, and we can never truly know their impact on our lives.
Lorraine Carey
https://authorlorrainecarey.blogspot.com/
Lorraine Carey is a reading specialist and an Award-Winning Author. She was living in California until fate whisked her off to Grand Cayman. She currently lives in Florida. Her love for paranormal stories began at a young age, and is no stranger to the paranormal, having encountered unexplainable events that are woven into her stories.