At first, I assumed it was a rock — the garden is full of them. But this sound was different. Not dull. Not crumbly. Sharp. Metallic.
I scraped away the dirt with my hands and saw a dull, rusted surface peeking through the soil. It was curved, smooth in places, jagged in others. Definitely not a stone.
My grandmother leaned over and squinted.
“That’s strange,” she said. “We’ve never had anything like that here.”
The object was heavier than it looked. We worked together to loosen it from the earth, pulling until it finally came free with a sucking sound, as if the ground itself was reluctant to let go.
Whatever it was, it had been there a long time.
First Impressions: Old, Heavy, and Clearly Not Junk
Once we rinsed it off with the hose, the details became clearer.
It was made of metal — thick, solid, and heavily corroded. Roughly oval-shaped, with several bolt holes along one edge. There were faint markings, though time and rust had worn most of them away.
It didn’t look like garden equipment. It wasn’t a tool. And it definitely wasn’t something my grandparents would have buried intentionally.
My grandfather came outside, wiping his hands on a cloth. He stared at it for a long moment without speaking.
“Well,” he finally said, “that’s not something you see every day.”
There was something in his voice — curiosity mixed with unease.
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