Sunday, 31 August 2014

"My little story"




A photo a day - Day 21, August 31st.

Here is a little story;

Chapter 1.

It's been five years since I opened up that wooden box.
The wooden box underneath my bed, with wisps of dust gathered into the crevices of the wood work.
The box that Mrs Linn from the antique shop gave to me before she died.
I could barely remember what was in that box; the last time I opened it my life took a sharp turn down a dark alleyway no one, not even the cruelest of minds deserved to go down.
But it happened to me.
Me.
Because of this dumb wooden box.
I snap back into reality, chucking the box onto the carpet floor. What am I doing? Why am I putting myself through this? Why don't I just spare my life and chuck it away? No one needs to know.
Of course nothing is that easy.
I reach down, pick up the box and lay it on my lap. Slowly and cautiously, I tug at the lid , which seemed to have glued itself shut. Maybe it was a sign that I shouldn't open it. Wait no; I'm stronger now. I should be able to handle this. Gradually, the lid starts to come off, and I can instantly smell the strong scent of the old wood.
Breathe. You can do this, I tell myself.
The lid comes off eventually, my force causing it to fall onto the ground.
Inside was a necklace made of black string with a small wooden shark tied to it.
I breathe a sigh of relief. This silly little thing? I expected it to be some ancient clock watch that could bring me to the past and the future. It was actually quite cute! It could cause no harm.
I lift the frail piece of jewellery into my hands and put it around my neck.
Hmm, nothing yet. I look into the mirror and cock my head to the side, running my thumb across the surprisingly smooth little shark. Then I--

- written by Zoe Thompson.

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