The Box: A Very Short Story

The box had sat center on her family’s desk for as long as Kristin could remember. The story behind the box was that her archeologist great grandfather had found it lying on the ground after an earthquake in the mountains of Anatolia. For those who came before her, just having the box had been the fulfillment of their personal quests.  Unlike those earlier family members who had Kristin had always had an unquenchable desire to know what was in the box, and it now belonged to her.

Unwilling to destroy the lock or damage the box in any way, she carefully employed her skills as a lock picker, learned as a child when she and her best friend made it a habit to leave no door  unopened. It was an ability she honed as an adult.

She sat at the desk and removed the lock. It seemed to her that her entire life she had pondered the question of what might be inside and now she was about to find out. She closed her eyes,  took a deep breath and carefully lifted the lid , listening to the rusty hinges creak.

Kristen opened her eyes, looked into the depths of the box……. and found it to be empty. She was very perplexed. Why lock an empty box? Why had it sat on this desk for generations only to be found to be empty? She turned the question for some time and finally the truth of the box came to settle itself.

The box held the air of an ancient time, a long gone culture and people. Someone had thought to lock in the very essence of their lives.  The gift in the box was not a thing that one could hold in hand, but instead it was a thing that could be breathed in to stir a fertile imagination, to give sustenance to the mind and heart, to ask “Who locked this box?”.  And to find the answer within oneself.

© 2021 Deborah