Wrote this short story in approximately 25 minutes in an English exam. So,
sit back and enjoy!
I was never supposed to open the almost-colossal, brown, derelict oak door.
Never. But I couldn’t. The secret has been concealed for years and being only a
week away from the legal adult age of 18, I couldn’t resist the urge to open
the oak door on the far end of the landing of the third floor. So, I did it. I
opened it and across my eyes had laid a thousand, untold secrets.
It all happened on a Friday, the 13th. My family – my mom, dad
and my little sister, Becca – had gone out for lunch with some old
acquaintances. Holding a tub of luscious ice-cream, I ventured into our new
house. I had explored the first and second floors on the first day but I had
been prohibited from entering the third floor. So, I was planning to do exactly
the opposite today.
So, holding up the ice-cream, I climbed up the old, creaking stairs of the
mini-manor. The stairs were wraped with a thick layer of dust and I couldn’t
stop sneezing. As I climbed onto the flight of stairs that led to the third
floor, I hastily pulled at the cobwebs which were graying the place and
blocking out the scintillating sun. I finally reached the third floor’s landing
and took a sharp take of breath, shocked at the scene that lay before me.
I quietly stepped onto the landing and tiptoed across, aware of the
deafening silence and the distant call of crows. The floor boards groaned with
my weight and I had hunch that something really wicked is about to happen. I
felt an invisible force behind me, creeping along with me, trying to interrupt
my progress. I flipped back several times, only to find dusty air illuminated
by the iridescent sun pouring through the cracks in the ceiling, lighting the
cold, dark, looming corridor.
I finally reached the door and as slow as a snail, pushed it open. The
door, as slow as ever, creaked and swung open. The first details my eyes
registers was the state at which the room stood crumbled. The ceiling,
floorboards, walls and everything was swathed in a thick layer of dust, turning
the room into a weird shade of grey. I put my finger on the wall and wiped out
some dust and below the layer of gray, I saw a rick, golden, yellow spot - a
sign of happiness. I thought – yellow to grey, frabjous to melancholy, happy to
sad.
Another sinister thing about the room was the furniture it contained or
rather, the box it contained. I crept to the box and tenderly kneeled before
it. There was a copy of my favourite Greek legend, Pandora’s Box, lying
neglected on this ancient – looking golden trunk. It broke my heart to see my
favourite book, which I used to read every day, which was reminiscent to my
childhood, laying in a sea of melancholy and neglect. I took the book and
tenderly flipped through the battered copy, recollecting the story of Pandora,
who, due to curiosity, opened a box and unleashed melancholy, sickness and all
the negative aspects of life into the world. I carefully laid the book aside
and studied the beautiful engraved trunk and… got almost a heart attack.
For, engraved in the center of the old, century-old trunk were two words in
big, black, bold letters: Pandora’s Box.
Wrote this short story in approximately 25 minutes in an English exam. So,
sit back and enjoy!
I was never supposed to open the almost-colossal, brown, derelict oak door.
Never. But I couldn’t. The secret has been concealed for years and being only a
week away from the legal adult age of 18, I couldn’t resist the urge to open
the oak door on the far end of the landing of the third floor. So, I did it. I
opened it and across my eyes had laid a thousand, untold secrets.
It all happened on a Friday, the 13th. My family – my mom, dad
and my little sister, Becca – had gone out for lunch with some old
acquaintances. Holding a tub of luscious ice-cream, I ventured into our new
house. I had explored the first and second floors on the first day but I had
been prohibited from entering the third floor. So, I was planning to do exactly
the opposite today.
So, holding up the ice-cream, I climbed up the old, creaking stairs of the
mini-manor. The stairs were wraped with a thick layer of dust and I couldn’t
stop sneezing. As I climbed onto the flight of stairs that led to the third
floor, I hastily pulled at the cobwebs which were graying the place and
blocking out the scintillating sun. I finally reached the third floor’s landing
and took a sharp take of breath, shocked at the scene that lay before me.
I quietly stepped onto the landing and tiptoed across, aware of the
deafening silence and the distant call of crows. The floor boards groaned with
my weight and I had hunch that something really wicked is about to happen. I
felt an invisible force behind me, creeping along with me, trying to interrupt
my progress. I flipped back several times, only to find dusty air illuminated
by the iridescent sun pouring through the cracks in the ceiling, lighting the
cold, dark, looming corridor.
I finally reached the door and as slow as a snail, pushed it open. The
door, as slow as ever, creaked and swung open. The first details my eyes
registers was the state at which the room stood crumbled. The ceiling,
floorboards, walls and everything was swathed in a thick layer of dust, turning
the room into a weird shade of grey. I put my finger on the wall and wiped out
some dust and below the layer of gray, I saw a rick, golden, yellow spot - a
sign of happiness. I thought – yellow to grey, frabjous to melancholy, happy to
sad.
Another sinister thing about the room was the furniture it contained or
rather, the box it contained. I crept to the box and tenderly kneeled before
it. There was a copy of my favourite Greek legend, Pandora’s Box, lying
neglected on this ancient – looking golden trunk. It broke my heart to see my
favourite book, which I used to read every day, which was reminiscent to my
childhood, laying in a sea of melancholy and neglect. I took the book and
tenderly flipped through the battered copy, recollecting the story of Pandora,
who, due to curiosity, opened a box and unleashed melancholy, sickness and all
the negative aspects of life into the world. I carefully laid the book aside
and studied the beautiful engraved trunk and… got almost a heart attack.
For, engraved in the center of the old, century-old trunk were two words in
big, black, bold letters: Pandora’s Box.
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