The Newest Normal

Chapter 3- Morgan

My mom is glum on the way home. Traffic is insane on the roads. "Do you know that it took me four hours to reach your school from work when it should have taken one?"

I nod. "I don't know where all this snow came from. It was boiling this morning."

My mom rubs her forehead and closes her eyes. "Weirdly, the area near Conner's school didn't snow."

I blink. "How could that be? His school is within walking distance of mine!"

"Some things in life are strange, Morgan."

I nod, but don't say any more. Dancing pencils, talking streetlights, coloured apples and now this? It doesn't make sense. "Let's turn on the news," I suggest, hoping they might provide some answers for me. Ever since I was a little girl, I loved watching the news or any weather channel. The way everything was so organized and predictable was amazing. They would tell us what to expect based on reasonable, scientific guesses and we would use that information to prepare ourselves. Everything about it felt satisfying and reminded me of myself. Today though, the news doesn't help.

"Bob," the person on the news channel acknowledges. "Would you please tell us today's, umm updates for Patrick Saint Mont?" Patrick Saint Mont was my town's name.

I hear some shuffling before he speaks, "Well Mary, it seems like we have some sun and cloudy weather in the northern coast of the city, a few thunderstorms in the south and some snowstorms in the west?" He sounds confused by what he's saying himself. "Mary, don't you think the weather forecast is kind of um, weird today?" he whispers.

"Bob-" She sounds like she's gritting her teeth. "We are on air. Please just read your script."

"Yes of course," He clears his throat. "And folks, after the next three hours you can expect normal weather again. Please stay inside your house for now and everyone will be safe."

"Unfortunately, due to this horrid weather, we are on caution mode," Mary continues. "Neighbors have also reported various other strange sights as well as the weird weather, things that have caused the loss of property, damaged houses, sick children, harmed crops, and interrupted schedules for childrens and adults alike." She pauses. "The apples on the trees in the neighborhood are poisonous, so do not eat them. The severe thunderstorms seem to be targeting buildings and either shocking the people inside or causing the building to collapse. The talking streetlights are scaring away farmer's cows and hens, therefore they cannot continue their living. The streetlights are also waking up children, and they have lack of sleep. There have been weird unreal-like creatures seen around the neighbourhood which are attacking families. As well, the crops are affected by the sudden weather, and it's uncertain what will happen next..."

I blink. If I thought this morning was bad, this is wayyyyy worse. "Mother," I pause, looking at her. "I think we should turn the radio off." The ride home is quiet and sombre with nothing other than the sound of the snow falling.

Finally, an hour later, exhausted by the slow travel, we pull into our driveway. The first thing I do is hurry upstairs to rest and think. The snowstorm had cut the power lines, and therefore we had no heat or electricity. The house was a cold iceberg. For some reason, all I could think of was that box. Didn't something come out of it? What was in it? I tuck my feet to my chest. The items had to have come out of something, come from somewhere. The weird things... magical... that box.... Magical.....

Unable to handle the anxiety, I rush downstairs to the attic, taking the stairs two at a time. I spot the box in the right corner, and flung it open. Nothing. Just plain and empty, like it was the night before. I take a deep breath and flung it closed. There on the cover of the box, were the words that led to my doom.

Etched on the lid of the box, the words I must have missed, said this:

Beware:

This box will set out magical, unpredictable objects that are hard to say and contain.

 I read it over three times, and then take my anger out on the nearest piece of furniture.