Herb's Magic

Box of Evil

The movers had just finished carrying in the last boxes, and were climbing into their truck to leave. Max stepped out of the side door of his parent's light blue minivan and got his first look at their new home at the end of Silvia Drive. It was on old, large, two-story plantation house with a wraparound porch and a widow's walk on the roof. He didn't want to be here. He'd left all his friends in the city, and now just one short day after his twelfth birthday, he was staring at this ancient excuse for a home and isolated oblivion.

He ran up the concrete walk, the front stairs, and charged through the large front door left standing open, determined to put as much space between himself and the parents who had betrayed him with this banishment.

The house was clean and virtually free of dust. Beautiful dark hardwood floors led to the wide staircase, running from the front door straight up to the first floor landing, before turning to continue up to the attic. Heedless, he continued to dash up the stairs to find his room. He entered a large room on the backside of the house with two huge sets of windows to find the movers had already assembled his bed. He threw himself down on it and covered his head with the pillow to stifle his anger.

A few minutes later his mother poked her head through the door and asked, "See honey, it's not so bad, right?"

From under his pillow he yelled, "Mom, I already hate this place! I wanna go home."

"I'm sorry honey. You know we can't do that. I'm sure you're going to like it here, once you get settled in. Why don't you explore the house and start unpacking your stuff. It'll feel more like home once you have your things around you."

Coming out from under his pillow he complained, "Mom, I don't have any friends here." He brandished his cell phone at her as an accusation, "I've got no signal, and there's no WiFi in the house. How am I supposed to live?"

"The cable guy is coming to connect the Internet tomorrow. I'm sure you can survive for one day," she replied sweetly.

"MOM!" he yelled, exasperated with her.

"Honey, there's nothing in the kitchen. Your dad and I need to run out and get some groceries. Do you want to go with us or stay here?"

Plunging his head back under the pillow and after a scream of frustration he said dejectedly, "What's the point? Just go. I'm going to find my ball glove."

She stood for a moment longer waiting for validation that was unlikely to come. After a shake of her head, she turned on her heel and left the doorway standing empty in her wake.

A few moments later, Max heard the large solid oak front door close firmly as his parents left. Reluctantly, he got off the bed and went in search of his things. The movers had left boxes in every room, but none of them were where they should be. In his room, the first one he opened was full of pots and pans. The second was full of his mother's clothes.

The third box had an ominous look to it. It was clearly older, faded and stained, the clear tape sealing the top had yellowed and turned brittle. One corner was smashed in. He knew his ball glove couldn't possibly be in there, but curiosity had taken over his will. He couldn't resist the urge to see what was inside. He ripped the tape off the box showering dust everywhere and opened the flaps.

The contents seemed ancient. On top in the center was a picture in an ornate silver frame. His mother as a teenager was standing next to his grandmother, both of them smiling. His grandmother was wearing her standard gray dress and her favorite necklace with the large oval blue stone surrounded by a ring of small clear gems.

Max lifted the picture out and lying on a bed of comic newsprint underneath was the same necklace from the picture. He set the picture aside and lifted the necklace out of the box, holding it up in front of his face. The rays of sunshine coming through the window caught in the stone of the pendant as it twirled in his hand sending a kaleidoscopic pattern against the walls. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he heard a wind-chime in the distance and deep sigh somewhere behind him.