As I turned a corner off a side street, my father's shop came into view. Tavarian’s Fine Jewelry, read a hand carved wooden sign hanging above the small brick building. It was located in a tourist spot just off the coast of the island. How he managed to secure such a spot was still shrouded in mystery to me, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. I would often lean against the stone railing and watch the birds fly over the ocean. The rocky alcove was a common nesting ground for them so they were typically quite frequently and abundantly soaring overhead. I approached the red door slowly, carefully squeezing the faded bronze handle and unlatched the door, pushing it open.

“Took you long enough,” I heard my father’s gruff voice chime before I could even get a crack in the door large enough for my fingers.

“Come on, I ran here and it's only been twelve minutes since I left the school,” wearing a frown on my face, I responded with a surplus of annoyance.

He stood behind the glass display case, which housed all his custom made jewelry, cleaning.

“I was only joking,” my father laughed gently.

“Come I have something to show you,” he said, waving me over and looking around cautiously - that’s an odd reaction, I thought.

Carefully leading me through his workshop and to the back storage room, he began fiddling with a wooden box in the corner. As I moved closer, I saw him remove some sort of necklace from it.

“I believe you’re of age now,” he started while placing the pendant in view. “This pendant should give you good luck. You should try it. I'm sure it will help you out,” my father said adamantly.

I took the pendant, uncertain of what made it so important. I didn’t often receive gifts as we supposedly made just enough money to pay the bills, though I’ve never really expected gifts either. I took a closer look at the pendant in my hand. The pendant was silver with thin metal lines that curved gently to form an octahedron shaped cage. Despite how feminine it seemed to me, there’s no way I could object to a gift from my father, and to be honest, I did like it.

“Wow, thanks father,” I said, trying to act excited.

I was certainly excited to receive a gift but this entire thing was so incredibly odd that I felt perplexed. My father mostly kept to himself- he was not the type to give gifts, but when he did, they always held purpose.

My father looked at me and smiled brightly, but I couldn't help but notice something hidden behind that smile - what was it? I wondered, but my thoughts were interrupted.

“Take good care of it. Now head on home,” he said, nudging me gently towards the door.

“Alright, see you at home,” I said as I slipped the pendant around my neck and headed towards the door.

As I left the shop, I glanced back to see my father close the box and return it to where it had been sitting prior. I was still unsure as to why the pendant was so important, but I’d have time to think about it on my way home.

“I’ve always wondered why walking makes it so much easier to think…” I wondered aloud, and as I did I felt a shock followed by a tingling sensation around my neck.

Quickly, I came to a stop just outside the door to the shop and pulled out the pendant to observe it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary - perhaps it was static? I’ve never worn a necklace before after all. I decided to ignore it for now, and would investigate further if it happened again and continued on my way home, shutting the shop door behind me.

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I ended up focusing too much on the possible resurfacing of that odd feeling around my neck that I didn’t end up thinking long enough to come up with an idea about why my father gave this pendant to me, it was just too out of the ordinary. Without noticing I had already reached the walkway leading up to my house and I paused for a moment to collect myself and to observe the garden. The spring flowers mother and I had planted a month ago were starting to bloom nicely. Whenever we worked on the garden my mother would tell me stories about her first times planting each flower and what she had learned from her experience. I found it soothing to appreciate our hard work and it helped me appreciate our time spent together instead of taking it for granted. Breaking out of my reverie, I walked up to the door, fumbled through my keys and unlocked it before heading inside.

“Hey mom, I'm home,” I called out as I closed the door, gently.

This was a necessary step, if it wasn't closed just gently enough I’d get a stern lecture on the importance of door etiquette. However, if it was too gentle I’d receive an invasive dressing down and interrogation on what I’m trying to hide.

“Oh, welcome home. How was school?” Mother yelled out to me from the kitchen.

“It was alright, and look at what father gave me!” I said, pulling the pendant out from my shirt and displaying it to her as she came around the corner to greet me.

My mother’s eyes concentrated on the object in my hands, a distant look falling across her face. She appeared to be semi-displeased for a moment, but shook it off with a smile.

“Oh, that old thing. Take good care of it, alright?” She said smiling.

“Yeah, I will,” I replied.

Mother made her way back to the kitchen where she was preparing dinner for the later hours. I removed my shoes and headed up the stairs to my room, promptly letting my bag fall to the floor upon walking through the doorway to my room.

“I guess I’ll get started on some homework,” I said aloud for some reason. It just felt like someone was there with me - odd…

Later that evening, having finished my homework, I decided that playing a game on my computer would be a worthy investment of my time- it was a calculated decision. I had just about reached the final level when I heard my mother approach the bottom of the stairs.

“Did your brother call yet?” She yelled up at me.

“No, not yet,” I yelled back.

“Perhaps he went to help your father. In that case they should be home soon,” she said, as I heard her footsteps scuttle away from the staircase

My brother, Aidan, was locally renowned for a unique sword fighting style that he had developed. He had won his fair share of championships through his style; that alone earned him a teaching position at a big school in the city's core. Our city tended to have a rather medieval theme to it and actually had quite a few schools focused on teaching martial arts. There were a lot of undertones in our culture here about the importance of being warriors and I never quite understood why- and what is a warrior really anyways?

Normally by the time I finished my homework, my brother would have returned home and we would spar but occasionally he would go to the shop to help father instead. Moments later, hearing the front door open and two pairs of footsteps enter the house, I headed down the stairs to greet who I assumed would be my father and brother coming home.

“We're home,” Aidan called out.

Mother looked sternly out from the kitchen to where the two were standing.

“Sorry I didn't call,” Aidan said, noticing mothers face.

Mother, looking slightly disappointed, pushed out a smile anyways.

“Well at least you two were home before I started to worry,” she said as she continued about her business.

“Aidan, can you help me with my sword play after dinner?” I said as we made eye contact on the stairway.

Aidan stared at me briefly, tall and well built, he was always intimidating. Nodding in agreement, he headed upstairs to wash up for dinner.

My brother was always fairly kind to me, he was usually relaxed with a very calm aura but once he held a sword it was as if his soul lit ablaze.

“Thanks,” I said, cringing slightly in anticipation of the beat down I’d be receiving after dinner.

“You don't have homework today Cian?” Father asked mildly concerned.

“All finished,” I said, smiling dolefully.

“Dinner will be ready soon so everyone should come and sit down,” my mother said abruptly before any new conversations could be started. She absolutely hated when anyone was late to the table.

The four of us sat down at the table. My sister was off at a friend's house, as she often was. As we were served, we each replied “Thank you for dinner”, lest we invite our mother's wrath. It was an odd tradition she forced on us, perhaps to make sure we understood that someone else had provided this for us- that someone else being her. After the four of us had finished eating and mother had offered seconds to everyone multiple times, she cleared the table and everyone went on about their business.