Pandora’s box

I decided to start participating in Scriptic which does weekly prompt exchanges. I really had a hard time figuring out where to go with this prompt. The names are temporary, until I decide what I’m doing with this story, if anything…

For the Scriptic.org prompt exchange this week, <a href=”http://MichaelWebb.us“>Michael</a> gave me this prompt: “So much of how we live consists of making meaning out of a bewildering jumble of images, of attempting to move as seamlessly as we can from one stage of life to the next.” -Nick Hornby.

I gave <a href=”http://frommywriteside.wordpress.com“>SAM</a> this prompt: Begin your story with “I have a friend who is an excellent liar.”

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The rain made the depressing day even worse. Beating sideways, it rendered umbrellas useless as mourners huddled close together, shivering and wet, by the fresh graves.

Two graves.

Melinda and Robert Wolfson left behind twins, Sarah and Jacob. Death by suicide. No note, no goodbyes, no nothing.

Sarah and Jacob stood staring down, hand in hand, something they hadn’t done since they were small children. Now 16, they were untimely orphans and each others only comfort, if one could even call it that.

The man designated to hold the funeral service hurried through the sermon, the weather was not conducive for a graveside service but it was what the family paid for so it was the way it had to be.

When the last words were spoken, the small group gathered around the children, hugged them, told them to call if they needed anything and made their way back to their cars.

When everyone was gone, Sarah and Jacob still stood at the graves of their parents-wet, scared and alone.

“What now?” Jacob asked after a few minutes of silence passed. He was the younger of the twins by a little over a minute and always looked to his sister to lead.

Sarah shrugged, “We go home, I guess.”

Still hand in hand, tears and rain streaming down their faces, they turned and walked toward their car.

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Alone. Just the two of them. They sat quietly in the large kitchen, each trying to warm up with a cup of coffee they got at the Starbucks drive-thru. Deep in thought, neither spoke a word. They just sat, they just were.

Silence shattered by the shrill shriek of the doorbell.

“Are we expecting anyone? I thought no one was going to bother us.” Sarah looked at Jacob.

“Probably just UPS or something, one of Mom’s eBay buys.”

The doorbell rang again and they both jumped up.

“OK, obviously not UPS. They only ring once.” Jacob led the way out of the kitchen, Sarah followed.

When Jacob opened the door, he assumed it would be someone coming to pay their respects. Instead, a large man with a lions mane of black hair stumbled in, looking a little concerned and harried.

“Children, you must hurry. Grab what you need. There isn’t much time, you aren’t safe here anymore. I promise, I’ll explain everything in the car.” He had a thick accent, much like their parents who were from Israel.

“Excuse me?” Sarah looked at this stranger standing in their foyer. “Excuse me? Who are you? Why would we just pick up and go with you?” She stood stubbornly and gestured toward the door, which was still open, “Please. Leave.”

“Children, your parents were my friends. I promise you, I am here to protect you as I swore to your parents I would. Please, time is short. Get your things. We must go.” He spoke calmly but the undertones hinted at fear.

Jacob looked at the man and then looked at Sarah, “I have a feeling. Let’s hurry, get our stuff and hurry.” Jacob got these “feelings” often, and they were usually right. Just like she had visions, waking dreams, that oftentimes came true. Her visions, however, had been quieted over the traumatic last few days.

“Wise choice, young Jacob. Wise choice.”

“How did…” Sarah shook her head, surprised that this man knew her brothers name. The man raised one dark eyebrow and clapped, signaling for them to move.

They each gulped down their questions, saving them for later and ran into their bedrooms, quickly grabbed some clothes and momentos and ran back to the foyer where the man stood like a statue, staring out the front door.

“We’re ready.” They stood there, still damp and very confused.

The man led them toward the car when Sarah stopped, “Hold on! I have to go grab something!” She ran toward the house and into her parents room.

Hidden deep in their parents closet, behind a secret panel, was an fairly large, old wooden box. Sarah only knew about it because she had caught her mother taking it out once, a long time ago. Her mother made her promise to never look inside it, the contents were very private. She was instructed to only touch it if and when her parents ever died, and her mother promised her that wouldn’t be for a very, very long time.

“You were wrong, Mom.” she whispered, crying as she took the cumbersome box out of its hiding place.

Even heavier than it looked, Sarah struggled her way back to the car, taking care to shut and lock the front door.

Once she was seated and buckled in, she asked, “So, who are you and where are you taking us?”

“I’ll tell you more, once we are a ways away from your home. Let me get us out of here first, they are everywhere, watching.”

Jacob and Sarah looked at each other.

They were so different, in every way. One might argue that there is no way they could be twins. The looked nothing alike, Sarah blonde, bouncy and petite, a complete contrast to Jacobs tall, dark and brooding. Looks weren’t where the differences ended, either. She was full of life and laughter, at least pre-parental death. He was more of the observer, taking everything in to save and process. But they were as close as opposites could be and then some.

“What’s the box, Sar?” Jacob had never seen it before, Sarah never mentioned it to him, her mother swore her to secrecy, even from her twin.

“I have no clue. I was about 7 when I saw Mom putting it away. She made me swear that I was never to say a word and never to look inside until they…” She broke off, stifling a cry threatening to escape, “Until they died.”

“Should we open it?” Curiosity was getting to Jacob, it was an awfully old box, patinad and worn, older than any of the antiques their Mom liked to collect.

“No, not yet. Not in the car. What are these, I wonder?” She stoked the etchings, a series of intricate, hieroglyphic-looking images carved into the top and sides of the box.

“Clueless here. I barely could learn Japanese.”

The man cleared his throat and looked at the twins in the rearview mirror.

“I know you must have a lot of questions. Right now, the only thing I will tell you is that you’re safe and nothing is as it seems. Nothing. I am Daniel. I am the one in charge of you from now on. I will educate and train you. And I will take care of you as best I can. Your parents, my dear friends, I loved and swore and oath to. You will live with me until you are ready. Oh, and I am deeply sorry for your loss, they were wonderful, good people. Their deaths, a terrible tragedy.”

“They killed themselves. Not a tragedy, they were selfish. They left us, without warning.” Sarah started crying and Jacob stared out the window, holding her hand.

“Remember, my dear. Nothing is as it seems. The contents of that box will explain more. You won’t be able to open it without the proper spell. I have it somewhere, hidden. Soon you will understand.” He smiled at them in the mirror and went back to concentrating on driving, humming a familiar melody, one their mom used to mindless hum.

Sarah inspected the box in more detail. The swirls and lines that decorated the box were intricate and beautiful. She had a strong feeling that the ancient writing on the outside of the box combined with what they’d find hidden inside would forever change who they thought their parents were-and who they were, too.

Sarah looked over at her brother, whose brow was furrowed in thought. She wondered if he had the same “feeling”.

She squeezed his hand, smiled reassuringly and closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself for the direction their life was about to take them.

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