The Box Has Twelve Sides: Thirteen Curious Tales to Delight and Disturb

THE THROW

JAMIE FOUND THE THROW at the flea market, along the back wall which butted up against what was left of the old drive-in movie screen. The flea market had been in business for about ten years now, ever since outdoor movies went the way of dinosaurs, New Coke and the pet rock. They just hadn't yet torn down the screen; it made for amusing discussion and a public conversation piece.

The throw was half-buried in a box of children's clothing and stuffed animals. Just a piece was peeking out, a flash of black and white and gray against the child's colorful garments. But it was enough to capture Jamie's attention. On that visible portion, Jamie could see an eye.

She managed to extract the blanket from the box without the space-holder noticing. The one thing Jamie didn't really care for about flea markets was attracting the attention of the sellers. They always seemed to have something for her to buy that she didn't really need. Or they would engage her in meaningless conversations which went nowhere.

She held the throw up, spread out at arm's length. How odd, she thought.

It was a woven blanket, about five feet in length by about four feet in width. It was fairly heavy for a coverlet, meaning it was woven from three threads of cloth instead of the usual two. This usually implied the blanket would have a wider range of colors in the pattern. Not so with this one.

Depicted on the blanket was a Victorian-looking clown. Its face was half-white, half-black from forehead to chin. It wore a gray conical hat ending in a white furry ball. Around its neck was the wide collar usually associated with clowns and mimes: ruffles upon ruffles crisscrossing back and forth, over and over. The clown was wearing what appeared to be a half-white, half-black satin jumper, the black opposing the white half of the clown's face and vice-versa on the other side. Dancing in the background were fairies, sprites, hobgoblins, elves; all things magical which floated in the minds of children. One arm was behind the clown's body, presumably holding a surprise in its hand for the viewing audience. Held in the clown's only visible hand was a single long-stemmed rose, the petals of which were the only color on the entire throw. Blood red.

But the most enrapturing feature was its face. Even split into day and night as it was, the clown's expression was one of sorrow, piercing deep into Jamie's soul. Never before had she seen a face so despondent, so alone. It was hard to say exactly which lone facial feature conveyed this emotion so strongly. Rather, it was a combination of the clown's entire disposition that gnawed at her feelings. Fittingly, and just to make the point, one single solitary tear was rolling down its left cheek.

"Perty, ain't it?" The elderly lady asked, startling Jamie out of her reverie. She was so enraptured that she hadn't even noticed the seller coming up beside her.

"It's unusual," Jamie countered, sensing she would have to endure another round of pressure buying. "What's its story?"

"Oh, no story to speak of," the old lady murmured, just loud enough to be heard. "That throw belonged to my niece years ago. She don't need it nomore."

"Really?" Jamie said, instinctively leaning in so she could hear the old woman better. "Why not?" Jamie asked before thinking. Great, she said to herself. Now I'm stuck here, listening to some long-winded story about this lady's family.

"She died when she'uz eight. Of the flu. Woulda' been, oh, ought near thirty now, I s'pose. During a snow storm up in the hollars, she got caught wi' th' flu and died. Shame, really. Doctor wuz just 'cross the pass, snowed in like everybody else."

Jamie was silent. She hadn't expected to hear something like that. She'd prepared herself for a boring tale about somebody's girl who had grown up and went away to school, or maybe an account of how the throw was given as an unappreciated gift which got discarded in an attic somewhere. No, she wasn't prepared for what she heard. And her face showed it.