literature

The Box

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everdeen13's avatar
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Literature Text

Discovered in the wreckage of an unnamed house (written on letter stationary):
To: Journal
From: Elissa
I write this entry in the attic.  You must forgive my handwriting, I am wearing the blue rings given to me by my father, and they are quite loose.  I've been told not to come up here, and I've no idea why I'm not doing what these kind people tell me to do, foolish girl that I am.  I plan on writing everything that happens here, and my thoughts, if only to remember later.  I tensen as I think I hear a noise.  No, it is only the house settling.  I look around the room.  Oh, Lord, can I be found here?  Perhaps...
A box catches my eye.  It was once beautiful, that is apparent.  Its bright colors must have been a lovely sight to see, though now it is dusty and faded with age.  I must not go through their things, even though my curiousity nearly overwhelms me.  I look around the room as if to distract myself.  No matter how much I look away, my eyes always return to the box.  I must know what's inside of it!  I must know!
I rise now, even though I am telling myself to sit down, to leave this attic where I'm not even supposed to be.  I really am an idiot, am I not?  Still, I walk over to the box, kneeling beside it.  I lay my hands on it's sliding lid, holding my breath without even thinking of it.  My blue rings sparkle in what little light there is.  I slide the lid off, though it catches about halfway across the box.  I curse under my breath, trying to pull it further off.  Finally, it slides off, and I gasp at what I see.  I make a choked noise, searching for words that nobody will hear.  All that comes out of my mouth is "No..."
Pictures.  This box is full of pictures!  And I recognize them, yes I do... These are pictures of the dead.  Pictures of the murdered!  I've seen them before, in the newpapers.  And now, here they are.  Oh, Lord, what am I to make of this?  These kind people who've taken me in and fed me and clothed me, they could not be murderers!  And, yet, the red ink on the pictures clearly shows each name, and a large X over their face...
I shift through them in horror, trying to comprehend what is going on.  Oh, Lord!  I reach out with trembling hands, picking up the photograph.  I am suddenly cold and I cannot move but for to write this.  My muscles are frozen in this horror, this absolute terror.
The girl in the photograph is me.
In red ink, the name Elissa is scrawled.  There is no X.
I must admit that I am very scared right now and oh, Lord, I hear a noise.  It must be the house settling but I think it's coming closer and I can't stop writing and there's something behi

That is all that was written.  The house it was found in burned to the ground some time later.  This girl, Elissa, was never found.  All that was recovered from this tragedy was a blue ring and a single photograph, marked withthe name Elissa and an X written in red ink.
Yes, I'm alive! Hurrah!

I wrote this off a prompt I was given in English class. We're talking about making a moment go by slowly to build suspense, and one of the prompts was to talk about going into the attic and opening a box. I think I might have a sick mind.

Oh, well! At least my sick mind will allow me to write these things, eh? And, yes, I plan on getting back into writing. I love it too much to stop for much longer.
© 2012 - 2024 everdeen13
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MonaParvin's avatar
wow you are amazing at writing :hug: