A man yelled, "Hurry! I've not gotten all day!" He held a steel box. "Calm down, I'm the one who wrote these instructions." A woman answered. They walked through a hall, into a meeting room. "We must find a way for them to listen. Who will hold these instructions? A trustworthy person." Another man with a British accent held both of his hands together. "The mayor works." A woman with blonde, curly, hair responded. "Diana, that's one brilliant idea!" The man in the center, holding his hands together, wrapped his hand around a brown hammer, smashing a brown circular item. "How many years will the box be set?" Diana turned her head to the first man who had just walked in. "I estimate to at least 220 years. How long will their power last?" He replied, turning his head to the builders. "At least 221 years." One of them responded. "Then, 220 years it is." He added. "Amazing teamwork, Tom." He then smashed it again. "Now that it has been settled, please hand me the box." He stuck his hand over the table. Tom pushed the box over to the manager, smoothly. He put in a code, then set the instructions in, closing the box. "It will open in 220 years. Take it to the mayor." He slid it back to Tom.
So then, the mayors have passed on the small steel box. They all respected it. That is, until the 7th mayor.
The mayor was a fragile, slender man. He coughed every 30 seconds, and he was desperate for a cure to his sickness. He grabbed a hammer and slammed it onto the steel box, making a dent. He got so angry, he threw the box into a closet with garbage bags. After that, he died a day later. The box stood in the closet, and a moment after his death, the box quietly clicked open.
YOU ARE READING
City Of Ember; My Story
FantasyIn our city, the sky was always dark. Never have I ever seen it any other color than black. Kira and Scott, the main characters, are living the worst life.
