The young girl approached the box cautiously, glancing around with a furtive expression to see if anyone else had noticed it fall from the sky. She rarely got to see them up close, they were usually snatched up by the first adults to arrive on the scene.
It was only because she’d a last minute detention that she was dawdling through the park at this hour. She hated the park and all it stood for especially when Melanie and her gang were there, catcalling at her. They were long gone by now. She was going to be for it if she didn’t get home soon. She couldn’t remember how long the sky had been raining gifts, it had been months. People had theories it was to do with that horrific shipping disaster but the government seemed determined to remain close lipped.
She hopped to and fro on the spot as she deliberated what to do with the box. At last she picked it up and threw it into the depths of her rucksack. She didn’t have time to deal with it now.
Later that night, after a blazing row from her dad who told her once again “she needed to pull her socks up or she’d be out”, and hours of repetitively boring tv her thoughts returned to the box. She’d meant to hide away in her room and open it immediately but her mum had presnted her with a list of chores as long as her arm to get through.
Feigning a yawn she got up from the sofa, kissed her parents, who had mellowed slightly, and went up to bed. She rifled impatiently through her rucksack for the box, hoping it hadn’t fallen out on her run home. No, it was still there. She cupped it excitedly. It was still warm and glowing faintly. It was about the size of a small mug and smelt of an otherworldly smell.
It was hard and surprisingly for its great fall, undented. She turned it over, this way and that, trying to find an opening. Disappointingly, there was none. She thought for a second, then inspiration seeming to strike, pressed down firmly on each corner. Nothing. She tried to think back to the News reports. It had been widely covered for days. She tried to remember how others had opened theirs. All she remembered was there was no one way of opening them, each box was individual to its finder and opened differently each time.
Although a few kids at school had boasted of finding these boxes and the wonders they contained, none of them had actually been able to produce any evidence of them when questioned further.
A tear slid down her cheek. This too she could not accomplish. This too she was a disappointment at. She buried her face in her pillow and cried. Why was life so unfair? Why couldn’t she , just once, catch a break? She sought in her dressing gown pocket for a tissue and wiped her eyes and wiped the surface of the box that had caught her temper tantrum.
As she rubbed the moisture in a circular motion it glowed with a fierce heat. The colour changed from an insipid blue to a deep red. It was so hot it scorched her hand and she dropped it where it lay smoking on the carpet. One corner seeming to rise, it swung open, revealing a smaller cardboard box inside.
Of course she thought, it was connected to emotion and reacted to her feelings. She gingerly reached in and caught hold of the smaller box. This was when she began to feel this was some sort of joke. The smaller box was about the size of a jewellers box and looked like a hastily wrapped Christmas present. Remarkably it had her name on it and looked easy to open. She slid it open and sighed.
Till next time. Sorry.
(Planning on updating this in the next couple of days but I’m tired and don’t want to rush it. Please feel free to comment so far. Have I taken way too long to get to the point? As usual!