Pandora

“Don’t open it.” was all he had said. He had forced her into this empty, unexciting room with only an oak-wood chest in the far corner. Though she had not been looking for it, it had immediately caught her eye. How could it not, in such a bare room, and when he’d explicitly instructed her not to open it? Its allure was inescapable, though. Upon closer examination of the mysterious chest, she could see that its design was more intricate than she’d thought. Although she could not read, she knew that the engravings dominating the front of the box had to be words. She wished she could understand the alien symbols; then maybe she’d know why he’d told her not to open it. Incited by her curiosity, she began to search for a latch. She was surprised to find it not protected by any sort of lock. Every detail on the strange box only intensified her need to see the inside. How easy it would be, she thought, to just lift open the lid and have a peak. He would never have to know. Her eyes were drawn back to the latch, now humming with strange compulsion. Hypnotized, she placed her fingers under the lid, and pulled it up, unleashing a hurricane of high-pitched squeals.

Miniature, winged monsters flew from the opening in a torrent of muddled and confusing pandemonium. She was thrown back onto the floor as squadrons of pestilent mosquito-like creatures launched themselves at her. She tried to lift her head to see what was going on when she was struck down again by a flurry of pesky imps. She reached out with her hands, trying to find the latch again, but her attempts yielded no avail. Scores upon scores of pesky demons poured out from every fissure of the chest for what felt like hours. Finally, the last monster buzzed over her head and out the door to the room. She risked resurfacing again to see what shreds were left of her empty-to-begin-with room.

Like before, the only thing worthy of attention in the entire suite was the chest in the far corner, which she now knew better than to mess with. But there still seemed to be a presence in the room, unmistakably coming from the box that had started this whole mess. No, I am not going back over there, she silently pouted, I learned my lesson. I should have done as he had said to do in the first place. What will he do to me now that I have unleashed this monstrosity upon the world, disobeying his direct order? A small cry echoed from the oak-chest, and she knew that she had to go back, although she also knew she shouldn’t. A quick peak is all I’ll have to do. Everything will be alright. That sound was probably just the wood creaking. I have nothing to worry about, she desperately attempted to console herself.

All of the allure of the chest had faded, every bit of mesmerizing compulsion she had felt before had vanished the instant she’d seen the first monster fly from the open lid. She reluctantly peered into the troublesome box. A timorous sprite sat in the center of the inside, hiding its face. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way after the torrent of mischievous spirits had attacked her, but she felt that this fragile creature was good. She knew this creature was good. So, she dropped her hand in, trying to catch the pixie in her fingers, but it flitted to the other side of the chest, fearfully.

“C’mon, I won’t hurt you.” She cooed, convincing the small creature to trust her. The sprite hesitantly moved toward her open palm. After carefully examining the giant hand, it crawled between her thumb and index finger, curling up into a ball.  She tried to speak to it, but it coiled tighter.

“If all the other ones are bad, then what are you?” she asked suddenly. The little creature uncoiled and uncovered its face to look up at her. She didn’t see its lips moves, but she heard the response more clearly than anything she’ d heard before. Hope.