My Short Stories

The box in the attic

The box was just a regular brown cardboard box. Inside though was anything but ordinary. It was a small pile of glass orbs with names written on them. I scoop some out and look through them. While I shuffle them in my arms, one of the orbs falls and breaks. My mom suddenly poked her head into the attic.

"Honey, can you please stop making such a racket?"

"Sure thing, mom."

She ducks back out of the attic and I lean down to clean the glass, except it had reformed into a sphere. I turn it around and there my mom's name was printed. Quickly, I dump the ones in my arms into the box and bring it downstairs. On the way to the kitchen, I trip and a few of the glass orbs fall out and shatter. The doorbell then rings and I can hear my dad yelling that our cousins arrived. The door opens and multiple joyous voices enter the house. I look back at the glass, which should have been broken, but wasn't. Each of the cousin's names were there: Myla, Trenton, Hayden, and Jenna. I shove the box into a nearby closet and run to greet them.

Halfway through their visit, Jenna returns from the bathroom holding one of the glass objects.

"Hey, Aunt Erin, these are really cute and creative decorations."

"Thanks, I had honestly forgotten I had them."

I race over to my cousin and try to ask for it calmly (not very successful). She drops it into my hands and sits back on the couch. As I sit, protecting the orb, Hayden bumps my arm, causing it to roll away and it crashes out the open porch door. My neighbor walks in through that door.

"Sorry to intrude but something smells mighty tasty!"

Slowly, I make my way through the door to the ball. Too preoccupied with my thoughts, I don't check the name on it and make my way to my room, grabbing the others from the closet on the way. I drop onto the bed and set the box next to me. Thoughts fill my head as I lay back. Where did they come from? Who made them? What exactly is the point of these? And probably the most logical question ever, why do they break so easily? For real, wouldn't the creator make something like this so you can't break it? They are made of the flimsiest glass ever. As if to prove my point, to no one in particular, I grab one and throw it at the wall, watching it as it shatters to the floor. Chris Evans opens my door and stands there.

"Come on kid, get your butt out here. You're missing all the fun!"

Laughter makes it's way down the hall as we blankly stare at each other.