Once upon a time in a long-forgotten corner of an attic sat a child's toy from many seasons past. It was tucked away behind boxes of bobs and forgotten treasures, hidden under a mountain of dust and a thick blanket of time. Painted on the sides of the curious box were images that had once been bright and cheery but were now faded and covered by a thin layer of rust. The lid stood open in a gaping toothless yawn; the contents having escaped long ago leaving the hatch open wide.
On closer inspection, and only by standing on her tiptoes, a small child who was exploring, was able to see down into the dark corners inside. There she spotted a tattered piece of paper that was yellowed and covered in grime. She scrunched her eyes tightly closed and bravely put her hand in through the old spider webs to retrieve it.
Moving into the meager light the one small window provided, she carefully started to unfold her hard won prize. It was a letter carefully printed, but with no salutation, the only clue being a simple signature that read,
Sincerely,
Jack.
Being extremely curious by nature, the child began to read:
I've loosed the seams that held me fast
My freedom gained, hard won at last
Confined in my box a prison at best
For years on this shelf my fate and un-rest.
Where once I was cherished, a Joy to behold
A Christmas Gift found under a green tree of gold
With bright lights above and tinsel below,
Where gingerbread cookies all dance in a row.
A child's smile brought with squeals of delight
When the handle cranked music the spindle unwinds
Releasing the latch reveals hidden inside
I sprang forth unhindered to laughter and light.
My music unwound for many a year
My spring tightly sprung, sprang unheeded with cheer
But slowly these slowed with time and much use
Assured that my space on this shelf was reserved.
Alas, I'm unable to face unafraid
The rest of my days now lost in a haze
of happier times when my presence was craved
Now deafening silence is joined by dismay.
And so my dear friend my story's not lost
I've left my confines for an adventurous cause
No longer in exile in this attic dark
To venture beyond will be quite a lark.
Sincerely,
Jack
She folded the letter with tears on her cheeks and wondered what adventures this Jack may have found. Was he happy to have left this place behind? Would he ever return to his box on the shelf?
Before she left her exploring adventure, she replaced the letter back in the empty box in hopes that someday Jack might return and discover the lines she had added.
Dear Jack,
When you tire and are in need of rest
And find your box still empty upon its berth
Do come and find me and you will see
The space in my room you're now meant to be.
Love,
Emily
~Koneta 2012
Category: Stories of a sort