The Malevolent Wooden Box: Bargains of the Soul

 

The Malevolent Wooden Box: Bargains of the Soul

It had been a quiet day in the toy shop and Amelia wasn't sorry to be closing up. Time dragged when not many customers came in. It was already dark at four o'clock - and so cold she could see her breath. She'd just got her coat on when she heard the shop bell ring.

"I'm afraid we're cl-" "This won't take a moment," said a voice which came from immediately behind her. 

Amelia jumped in fright. She hadn't heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw a very small man, no higher than her shoulders, dressed in black robes and an old-fashioned top hat which was battered and tattered and altogether ridiculous-looking. "Do you know what you want to buy?" Amelia asked, still anxious to get home. The man shook his head, with a slight smile. "Nothing, my dear," he said in a voice only just louder than a whisper. "It is you who will want to buy from me." With that, he held up a carved wooden box.

Amelia's unease grew as she studied the mysterious man and the peculiar box he held. The toy shop's dim lights cast eerie shadows across the shelves of forgotten playthings, making the situation all the more unsettling. The box, she noticed, was finely crafted, with intricate patterns etched into the dark wood. It emanated an aura of ancient malevolence.

"Who are you?" Amelia asked, her voice quivering with anxiety.

The diminutive man ignored her question and continued to gaze at her, his eyes seeming to pierce through her soul. "This box," he whispered, "is not just any ordinary box. It contains wonders beyond your imagination. It can grant you anything you desire."

Amelia's curiosity mingled with apprehension. She had heard enough tales of strange occurrences and bargains with mysterious beings. She knew better than to entertain such offers.

"I don't want anything from you," she stammered, taking a step back toward the exit.

The man's smile grew wider, and it sent shivers down Amelia's spine.

"Oh, my dear, everyone wants something," he said, his voice now barely audible.

 "But what you desire lies deep within your heart. I can sense it. I can grant it to you."

Amelia's mind raced as she considered the possibilities. The toy shop had been a dull, monotonous existence for far too long. She had dreams, aspirations, and desires that had been stifled by the mundane routine. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that making a deal with this eerie stranger would come at a terrible cost.

The man seemed to read her thoughts. "There is a price, of course," he whispered.

"Nothing in this world comes for free."

"What's the price?" Amelia asked cautiously, her curiosity overcoming her fear.

The man's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly knowledge. "Your soul," he replied, his voice dripping with malevolence. "You will become mine, bound to me for all eternity, and I will take your place in this world."

 Amelia's heart raced, and she knew she had to make a decision quickly. The allure of escaping her dreary existence was tempting, but the price was too high. She turned and bolted for the door, throwing it open and rushing out into the frigid darkness of the winter evening.

As she fled the toy shop, she could hear the man's haunting laughter echoing behind her. She knew she had narrowly escaped a terrible fate. From that day on, she never looked back, vowing to live her life without making deals with the unknown, for she had learned that some offers were too sinister to entertain, even on the coldest and loneliest of nights.

Amelia's footsteps echoed through the desolate streets as she raced away from the sinister toy shop and its eerie proprietor. Her breath formed frosty clouds in the icy air, and her heart pounded like a drum in her chest. The chilling laughter of the mysterious man lingered in her ears, a haunting reminder of the darkness that had nearly consumed her.

She knew she had made the right choice by fleeing. The idea of surrendering her soul to that malevolent being was unimaginable. As she ran, her thoughts turned to the mundane life she had so eagerly wished to escape—the monotonous days behind the counter, the loneliness that had crept into her heart.

But as Amelia continued down the wintry streets, she also realized that there was more to life than the relentless pursuit of dreams. There was beauty in simplicity, in the laughter of children who had once played with the forgotten toys on those dusty shelves. She resolved to find contentment in the everyday joys that had been overshadowed by her desires for something more.

With each step, she left behind the darkness of the toy shop and the chilling encounter with the enigmatic man. And as the first rays of dawn broke through the night, Amelia embraced the promise of a new day, determined to live a life unburdened by deals with the unknown, cherishing the warmth of her own soul and the simple pleasures that came with it.

Written by:- Muskan Nim

Date:- 21/09/2023

The lost hope of the lost princess.

    THE LOST HOPE,

                              OF THE LOST PRINCESS    

-Retelling of Cinderella

 

A biting gust of wind sliced through her face, jolting her from her slumber. Amanda, a girl with a fiery temperament and a haunting past, awoke abruptly. Abruptly, a blood-curdling scream tore through the tranquility of the night, accompanied by the ear-piercing wail of a police siren and the shattering of glass. Startled, Amanda ripped her headphones off, her gaze darting to the side, though she couldn't bear to witness the harrowing scene where a young child had met a tragic end. With a heavy heart, she muttered, "105th soul ascends to the heavens."

Such calamities were an all-too-frequent sight on the Western Express Highway—constantly plagued by the grim specters of traffic, accidents, and death.

 Amanda gingerly navigated the perilous road and proceeded towards her humble abode, a decrepit and timeworn apartment building that had seen better days.

"Where is that girl?" The booming voice of her mother reverberated in the air. "Mom, my clothes aren't washed!" cried out her demanding stepsister. "Where is my file?" bellowed her father.

 "Another day, another cacophony," Amanda sighed, bracing herself for yet another tumultuous evening, as she embarked on the daunting ascent up the creaking staircase to her apartment.

Upon reaching the door, she hesitated, her trembling hands grasping the doorknob. She drew in a shaky breath and, with newfound determination, released her grip. Amanda cast one final, longing glance at the door before making a dash toward her elusive freedom.

 As she sprinted down the street, her breaths labored and heart racing, she collided with an unexpected obstacle. Gasping for breath, she gazed up at the person she had inadvertently bumped into—a young man, scarcely older than 19, extending a chivalrous hand of assistance.

 Though she declined the offered help and began walking away, the young man regarded her with a perplexed expression, as if trying to unravel the enigma that was Amanda.

 "So, it seems history is destined to replay itself," he mused, scooping up the abandoned shoe and embarking on a swift pursuit of the retreating girl.

Finally catching up to her, he gallantly knelt before her, cradling her foot on his knee, and assisted her in slipping into her shoe. As he delicately secured the lace, he gazed up, locking eyes with Amanda. In that electric moment, an overwhelming surge of emotion passed between them, captivating them both in an unbreakable spell.

An elderly woman, a silent observer of the serendipitous encounter, couldn't help but interject, "At last, the prince has found his princess! And so, the fairy tale begins."

 Ding. The clock struck twelve, and the night sky exploded into a dazzling spectacle of fireworks, marking the arrival of the New Year—a new chapter in the intertwined destinies of the young prince and princess, where exaggeration met reality in the most extraordinary of ways.

Written By:- Muskan Nim

Date:- 21/09/2023

Potrait of Myself

 POTRAIT OF MYSELF

 

"Once again, it's a humid and unusual day today. It seems like I'm getting used to this weather. Thinking about it, coming to Mumbai has changed me a lot. For someone who used to love rain, I now seem to despise it. My favorite season! Note the sarcasm.

These large windows in the classroom are my only solace. Such lovely atmosphere to view. The teacher was late today, so I gazed outside through the window and admired the beautiful trees, birds, and the overcast sky. No rain, no sun, just a lovely cloudy day. The classroom is beautifully structured, with its old wooden furniture. “Oh, how much I love it."

"Today doesn't seem to be my day, though. On my way to class, it rained. Alas! Why does it have to rain? It's so annoying. The weather gets dreary, the roads get watery, and it's not fair. The gardens are all muddy, and..."

"No offense, I love nature, but not the muddy soil. So that's just me, with dozens of likes and dislikes. What makes me, me, well, it is my smile. Hehe! No flex, but I have a cute smile, and why shouldn't I? My name means smile."

"So, let me keep smiling."

P.S. That happens only when it doesn't rain.

Written by:- Muskan Nim

Date:- 21/09/2023

The Door

 

THE DOOR

The ancient oak door loomed above me, a colossal sentinel of the past. My hand reached out to grasp the rusted handle, and as I swung it open, a welcoming blast of warm air enveloped me. Beyond the door, a breathtaking, evergreen meadow unfolded, bursting with an explosion of colors. A symphony of flowers adorned the landscape, their petals swaying gracefully in harmony with the gentle breeze.

 

In the heart of this enchanting landscape stood a cherry blossom tree, but it wasn't just any cherry blossom tree; it radiated a mesmerizing golden aura, gleaming like the most exquisite jewelry worn by a newlywed bride on a sun-drenched day.

 

As I stepped through the door, I couldn't help but glance back at it. It was a door straight out of Renaissance Italy, adorned with intricate carvings depicting a tapestry of activities and ornate letters. The rich, coffee-brown wood gleamed brilliantly when bathed in sunlight, standing proudly in the midst of the meadow, a solitary work of art.

 

Turning my gaze back to the resplendent tree, I was met by the intense gaze of a bird, its feathers a deep, vibrant blue, creating a striking contrast with the tree's golden splendor.

 

Walking along the meandering grassy path felt otherworldly, as if I had entered a realm born from the fabric of dreams. The atmosphere was warm, tranquil, and bathed in a perpetual sunny embrace, offering an escape from the trappings of material wealth and possessions.

 

A distant, haunting sound reverberated, drawing me closer. I turned to follow the sound's source, and there she was—'My Grandmother,' my dearest friend—gazing at me with eyes filled with boundless love and tenderness. Overcome with emotion, I rushed toward her, yearning for her comforting embrace. Her smile mirrored the one I remembered from days of yore, before she had been called to her celestial reward by the holy angels.

 

We spent what felt like hours in conversation, yet it passed like mere fleeting moments. Suddenly, a deafening ring, reminiscent of a colossal bell, echoed through the air. The vibrant world around me began to blur and fade, slipping through my grasp like a wisp of smoke. I awakened once more, alone in my bed, gazing up at the ceiling, longing for that wondrous place I had briefly inhabited. Once again, the stark reality of solitude enveloped me, and I couldn't help but feel utterly lost...

Written by:- Muskan Nim

Date:- 21/09/2023