Friday, May 31, 2013

Flash Fiction Friday





(I'm thinking about making this a short story.  What do you think?  Should I go for it? ;~)


The Box
by Donna L Martin


Fifteen steps north from old man Barner's shed is an almost unseen path leading into the woods.  I never would have noticed it if I hadn't seen the X on the map.  Patting my pocket to make sure the map was still there, I stepped onto the path and followed it deeper through the trees.  Before he died, the old man told me about a box buried deep in the woods.  "Keep it safe and guard its secret," he whispered and then he was gone.  

Why me?  I was just someone who stopped by every month for the past five years to deliver his medicine.  But it was this last visit when he decided to show me the tattered map.  I could tell he didn't have much time left.  Muttering, sometimes incoherently, old man Barner told me the tale of the Vespars.  An ancient tribe who used to live in these woods and guarded the magic they found there.  I had a hard time believing what the old man was saying.  But when he became agitated at the thought of this mysterious box being discovered by just anyone walking through the woods, I promised I would recover it.

Dried leaves crunched beneath my shoes and sunlight filtered through the tightly woven trees as I counted out the paces until I came across the large bolder shown on the map.  Barner said the box was three feet down and the smell of rotting vegetation filled my nostrils as my shovel bit into the dirt.  I wasn't even sure why I was here.  It's not like I believed the old man's story.  It's not like I believed in ancient tribes and magic.  And then all I could hear was the sound of the shovel hitting something hard. Could old man Barner be telling the truth?


***Okay, it's your turn!  What's in the box?  Are the Vespars real? Have they returned?  Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph.  Continue my story or start one of your own.  Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

10 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Lol, Janet, you'll just have to wait until I write the rest of the story. Or maybe you can ask Christine how it ends? ;~)

      Thanks for stopping by and come back any time!

      Delete
  2. Not wanting to get my hopes up, but barely being able to restrain myself, I dug around in the dirt until I could see what I had hit. It was a box, made of metal, but it was rusted almost beyond recognition. Was this really the box old man Barner had buried? It must be; it would be too much of a coincidence to believe I would find another box in the exact spot where Barner had told me his would be.

    I dug around the edges of the container with my fingers until I was able to get my hands around it. When I lifted it, the weight was more than I expected. Just what exactly was in the box? I couldn't wait to find out.

    (Now, it's someone else's turn to continue....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi Christine! Ohhh, I LIKE the way you continued the story! Now if we can just tempt someone else to add to it...I want to know what's in that box...;~)

      Thanks for stopping by and come back any time!

      Delete
  3. I have a question - are the Vespars good or bad? Hmm...

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    Replies
    1. Hi Erik! I guess that would depend on who's writing the story...;~)

      Thanks for stopping by and come back any time!

      Delete
  4. Donna, I think you should turn it into a short story. You are off to a good start. I also liked what Christine added.

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    Replies
    1. Hi Susanne! It's really tempting...I think I'll add it to my to-do list...

      Thanks for stopping by and come back any time!

      Delete
  5. A series of latches held the box shut. The first was so rusty I couldn't open it at first. I pressed harder and it gave way so suddenly I jammed my palm into the hinge. I pressed my bloody hand against my shirt to stem the flow.

    I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the pain. They've always said that when one sense is muted, the others are heightened. With my eyes closed I noticed the silence of the woods around me. Weren't birds chirping just a few minutes ago? Maybe the squeak from the rusty hinge had scared them off.

    I heard a twig snap behind me. Then another. A chill ran down my spine, like cold breath on my neck.

    When the cold breath turned into a loud sniffing noise, I knew it wasn't just my imagination...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi Cindy! I like what you've done with the story so far! It's interesting how I start out with an idea and before you know it a wonderful story blossoms...;~)

      Thanks for stopping by and come back any time!

      Delete