Pop! Goes the Weasel!

         The jack-in-the-box in the attic had been broken for as long as I could remember. It had always sat on the same shelf, collecting dust, for all the years we had lived here. No one was sure where it came from. It was always just… there. I always wondered why nobody played with it, I’m sure we could have fixed it.

          Whoosh. I blew on the box. Dust filled the air around me, causing me to close my eyes and cough. A few seconds passed before my hacking stopped. When I reopened my eyes, I couldn’t help but suck in my breath, amazed at what a little cleaning up had uncovered. The jack-in-the-box looking almost new; you wouldn’t have been able to tell that it was broken by looking at it. The box was brightly colored in red and orange, the handle that cranked the box was painted a sparkly gold. Pictured on the front of the box was a bald clown. Its face was painted white, and he had the typical red, round nose. The clown was smiling, laughing even, but the smile did not touch his eyes, and they had a sadness in them that I did not understand. On the clowns cheek were red marks, which I recognized as tears of blood, falling down his face. 

          Though I knew that the box would not open, I could not help myself from turning the crank. After a few tries, the box played its tune. The song was the same as used in typical jack-in-the-boxes, but it was meant to sound low, haunting. Though it sent a shiver down my spine, I sang along, making my voice sound just as eerie.

“All around the mulberry bush,

The monkey chased the weasel.

The monkey thought ‘twas all in great fun,

Pop, goes the weasel!”

          SNAP. The noise came from inside the box, sounding like something trying to get out. I knew the box was jammed shut; the noise was probably just the coil hitting the inside of the box. But that didn’t stop me from being scared. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. It was trying to get out. I jumped up, dropping the box in the process. I raced down the attic stairs, but the box tumbled after me. Ha-ha, am I really scared of a children’s toy? I picked up the useless box, turning it in my hands. My fears, which were so real to me standing in the dark attic, seemed idiotic to myself now, holding the harmless box in the light of the hallway.

          I would keep the box, get it worked on, so that the jack actually pops out. And everything would be fine. Nothing bad will happen… to me, or the box. Right? I had a hard time convincing myself. Walking into my bedroom, I set the box down on my nightstand before walking over to sit at my desk, which was on the opposite side of the room.

          I sat in my chair facing my laptop, and tapped away at the keys. Facebook. Of course. What else was a teenager to do while she sat at home with nothing to do? I messed around on my laptop for awhile. Checking my email, little things like that. It’s already eleven o’clock? The time flew by. My eyes were beginning to feel heavy, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the computer.

          Screeech. Whipping my head around, I stared at my room behind me, but I could not find the source of the noise. To my ears, it sounded like something being drug against a wooden surface. But looking around, it appeared that nothing had moved. I must be getting tired. I’m just hearing things. I needed to jolt my system, to wake up. Simple.

          I walked down the stairs to get a soda from the fridge, trying to be quiet, as to not disturb my sleeping parents. I grabbed the cold can, and walked quickly back to my room. Crash. I skidded to a halt at the sound that I heard coming from my room. Nothing should have been moving; we had no pets to knock anything over, and no one else was in the house besides me and my parents.