The Box

Jane had yet to process what had just occurred, mind reeling with thoughts. It had started out like any other Thursday morning – get up, get ready, get out the door. The high end fashion industry she worked for was expecting her in less than an hour and a half to show off her latest design – a tuxedo detailed with roses, textured with black velvet. A cape draped down the back of the tuxedo like a waterfall, black fading into white and splattered with vine-like patterns.

Only a few streets away from the company, she’d been practically run over by a tall, dark haired man. His frantic expression was alarming, and he had wasted no time in shoving a small, wax-sealed container into her arms.

“Don’t let anything happen to this,” he’d wheezed out urgently, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder.

“I-I’m sorry-? Who are you-? What is this?!”

He just shook his head, meeting her eyes for only a moment before sprinting off yet again. Jane looked down at the box slowly, before spinning on her heeled feet to look behind her. The man was gone from sight.

She looked between her prized creation and the dirty box, probably stuffed with something dark or illegal. She could throw it away or leave it on the road – but something about how desperate he had seemed compelled her to tuck the box into the deepest pocket of her trench coat. She could worry about its contents – and the strange man – later. Right now, she needed to get her ass to her work to set up for her presentation.

So little time and so many people to please. That was what Jane’s life tended to feel like. Puffing out a breath, she hurried to her jobsite, hands shaky after the odd encounter. Still, something told her to not be afraid – to trust the stranger. As she entered her studio, Jane nestled the box into the top drawer of her desk, covering it with papers and miscellaneous items.

Sparing a final glance at the drawer, she adjusted the tuxedo draped over her arm, straightened out her knee-length skirt and spun out the door with the same faux-confidence she showed every day.

Featured Image: “Expecting Rain Before Rest” by John Fraissinet is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Author


  • Genres: Poetry, Fiction, Horror, Psychological Horror

    nfluences: Nakahara Chūya (Japanese poet), Osamu Dazai (Japanese novelist), other classic literature authors such as Edgar Allan Poe, Bram Stoker, Fyodor Dostoevsky, etc.

    Writer's Statement: When I write, it is with the intention of formatting a thought or feeling I have and putting it into the setting of a poem or novel. When writing novels, I focus more on the character, world and story surrounding it, but with poetry, I am writing about how I feel in the moment and allow my writing to come across as messy and spiraling. I believe writing my poems in this way allows me to clearly send the message of fear and anger and pain and overwhelming emotions that I feel while writing. In novels, I want to bring an idea into a fleshed out story with dynamic characters and feelings. With poetry, I am to make the reader feel less alone with their darker and obscure thoughts.

    Awards & Distinctions: I had a poem of mine from third grade published into a collection - it was a memoir to my childhood dog who passed away. Outside of this, I participate in theatre and have performed in shows including Aladdin, A Wrinkle In Time and Spongebob: The Musical.

    Etcetera: I have 2 dogs and 2 cats! Most of my free time is spent on my computer, whether that be to play in a new Minecraft world with my friends, work on my latest poem or story idea, or to digitally draw. I am looking into starting to take art commissions in the near future, and spend a lot of free time doodling my own characters to use as examples when the time comes.

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