The Box

February 28, 2010
By Kalliope SILVER, Brunswick, Maine
Kalliope SILVER, Brunswick, Maine
6 articles 0 photos 13 comments

Favorite Quote:
"A physician is not angry at the intemperance of a mad patient; nor does he take it ill to be railed at by a man in a fever. Just so should a wise man treat all mankind, as a physician does his patient..." Lucius Annaeus Seneca

A girl and her mother just moved into an decrepit old house. The old lady who lived there before left nothing in the house except for one jewelry box in the attic. It was plain and ivory, with a lid and a drawer on the bottom. Something was etched in the wood with some kind of needle, but because no one had touched it for so long, the dust made it hard to read. The old lady told them never to open it.
The family of two settled down in a fair amount of time. A couple of months later, the girl asked her mother about the jewelry box.
“Can I open that box in the attic? That lady will never know.”
“But what if there’re all kinds of diamonds and stuff in there. She was probably just being greedy.”
“Come on, I know you’re dying to know what’s in there too. Just one peek.”
“No.” The mother left the room.
The girl didn’t give up. Every day she asked if she could open the box and every time her mother said no. One day, she decided she didn’t need permission.
When she was sure her mother was across the hall in the laundry room, she slinked to the end of the hallway and twisted the creaky doorknob.
Gingerly she stepped in, avoiding the nails that were sticking up on the floor. There was one window, streaked and cracking, and on the floor beneath it was...the box.
It was glorified in dusty sunlight. She took one look back through the open door into the hallway.
Her mother wasn’t there.
She felt the pile of dust sitting on the box. She wiped it away, and unearthed words.
curiosity Killed the cat.
Ignoring the words, she lifted the cover. Red velvet lined the box. Lying on the red velvet, were little dolls about the size of her index finger. They had looks of extreme horror on their faces forever. They were in one line, and there was a space between one with blonde ringlets, and one with plaid pants.
She closed the lid. Once again, she read:
curiosity Killed the cat.
She decided to open the drawer on the bottom.
It was stuck, so she jiggled the knob and tried to pry open the sides. It wouldn’t give, and right before she was about to give up, it slid open.
Beams of light slammed one by one against her face, blinding her. She fell on her back, and felt her head being pushed down and together, knotting and kneading, a pain she had never felt. There was a sound like an elongated laugh. Her stomach was being pushed together now. She was getting smaller and smaller by the millisecond. She was screaming, shrieking...
Then it stopped.

No more pain, or light. Just a sound like soft, slow drizzle on a tin roof. She opened her eyes to see red velvet. In her peripheral she saw blond ringlets and plaid pants. Her eyes locked. Her body stiffened. Her breath was cut short.

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