One day, he had found a mysterious box standing on his porch. It hadn't been marked, so he could only assume someone had dropped it off in person.
The box itself looked plain, and there was no indication of what might be inside. That meant that there was no reason for him to be as afraid of opening the thing as he was.
For some unknown reason, it just felt wrong to touch it, to even come near it. So far, he had listened to that feeling, choosing to steer clear of the box, going as far as to leave it on the porch.
Until today. Today, the box had moved of its own accord.
YOU ARE READING
Tiny Stories Part 2
NouvellesMy second collection of microfiction, sometimes dealing with the mundane, but mostly dealing with the magical. Unlike the first collection, the stories in this one are based on inktober prompts.
