The Box. Short Story.

Ok, todays short story is kinda short, more like flash fiction. I’ve my first and final exam in a few hours so I am slightly distracted!

I hope everyone had an enjoyable weekend. Mine was a mixture of good and stupid, mostly good. Other than that not much has happened, so I’ll cease trying to make my life seem interesting.

Right, I’m off to go do some more study!

On with the show!


The Box.

It was a simple enough job, in and out. That’s all. She strolled up the driveway and to the door, then calmly removed a key from her pocket. It slid into the lock with ease and after a few seconds the door swung open. The house was in darkness, but then that was to be expected. Everyone was away for another week at least. She closed the door behind her, then turned on a lamp. Stealth was key, but no would notice a woman walking into a house and turning on some lights. What they would notice, was someone going into a house and wandering around in the dark. While she wandered, she took everything in. It was a nice house after all. Now was the fun part. No one knew where it was, so it was up to her to find it. Most of her colleagues hated that, they wanted it to be quick, but she enjoyed digging through the houses, it was fun, both in seeing what they had and in hiding her tracks which she always did skilfully.

She took her time going through the rooms, searching every place she could think of. She didn’t expect to find it in any of the downstairs rooms, it would probably be in the bedroom, that seemed to be a favourite hiding place with people. She looked behind the paintings on the way, checking for hidden safes.

She looked through the drawers in the bedroom first, then in the wardrobe, but both were empty. Carefully, she kneeled onto the thick, plush carpet and looked under the bed. There it was. A safe, it wasn’t too large. She reached out gingerly and nudged it. It didn’t budge. Probably secured to the floor. Damn. She hated working in small spaces. She examined the safe as much as possible, then moved under the bed to see behind it. Everything looked clear, though it was possible it was rigged with a trap. It was unlikely, but it could still happen.

It didn’t take her long to get the door open, the safe was a good brand, one of the best, but she was better. She moved to the side and used a makeup brush to push the door fully open. Nothing happened. She looked inside and found what she was searching for. A small, black box. She didn’t know what was inside it, but she knew it was the right one. They told her it would be highly ornate, gold coloured etchings covered the surface. She reached into the safe and pulled it out. It was heavier than she expected. She closed over the safe again and stood up, looking at the small box. It seemed bizarre, but what ever was inside must be valuable.

She retraced her steps through the house turning off the lights as she went. She stopped at the final one, the one in the hall, and examined the box in its weak glow. She knew she shouldn’t, she was getting paid well and it didn’t matter what the hell was in the box, but she was curious. What if the box was empty? The weight purely from what ever the box was made of. She slid a nail under the small clasp and flicked it up, then opened the box. It opened easily. She looked at what was inside, her eyes widening. A flash of light illuminated the hall, a faint smell of burning filled the house, the box fell to the floor with a heavy thud. As it landed, the lid snapped shut, the clasp falling over, sealing it again.


About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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