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The Best Gift
#WritcoStoryPrompt36
Write a short story that uses atleast two of the given situations:
1. An old, locked box in the attic.
2. A winding staircase that goes nowhere.
3. A broken mirror.
4. An old desk with a locked drawer.
Twenty years ago I was on my deathbed. Yes my deathbed. The doctors told me that I had but a few weeks to live. I suffered from a rare heart condition and there was no known treatment for that. Both my parents fell into depression. My grandfather was the only one who visited me in the hospital everyday. He was always cheerful and his presence lightened the mood for me. I no longer thought about death or worried about it when he was present. He told me stories about a powerful superhero who lived in his village when he was a young boy. Those stories made me forget about the present and think of better times.
The superhero unlike modern ones was an elderly gentleman. He fought against various monsters that attacked the village. The hero derived his strength from the milk of a cow that he raised. For reasons unknown the milk acted normally on other people. But the hero got superhuman strength, high intelligence and immunity against various poisons from the milk. The hero always carried a flask of milk with him. When he encountered a monster all he had to do was take a sip from his flask and he was ready to take the beast down. Everytime he slayed a monster they left behind a powerful artefact. The hero collected these artefacts and kept them in a box. These artefacts can bring great power and great misfortune to whoever uses them. The location of the box was a mystery and several villagers and outsiders tried to steal it from the hero. The stories about rouges trying to find the box had several spin offs. They all interested me equally.
The events my grandfather told me during the last visit were quite chilling. I didn't know that it would be the last visit but it was. One local boy succeeded in finding the location of the box. The hero had kept it on the top of an abandoned archerer's tower on the outskirts of the village. The boy reached the tower on a new moon day. It was dark except for the stars and the boy heard a lot of strange noises. There was no entrance to the tower and the boy had no idea how to climb to the top of it. The boy searched all night but couldn't find the entrance. He decided to give up and leave for home. Then, he heard a voice. He couldn't quite understand what the voice was telling him. He went close to the tower and found a lot of dust.. He removed the dust with his hand. It was a broken mirror. The cracks on the mirror gave an impression of a human face. The mirror asked the young boy to place his hand on it. The boy was scared but he obeyed the mirror. The hand and the rest of the boy was sucked by the mirror into the tower. The inside of the tower was dark. The boy realised that he was standing on a staircase. It was winding its way both up and down. The boy decided to climb up. He couldn't remember for how long he climbed. He didn't seem to be going anywhere. He grew tired and decided to rest on the staircase. The voice that spoke through the mirror told him not to rest on the staircase. the boy obeyed the voice and climbed the staircase. After what seemed like a day or week he reached the top of the tower. There was a small lamp lit in a large room. The room was dusty and smelt like dried leaves. After groping around the room the boy found what he came for. Among a lot of broken stones and leaves there lay the box. The key was also present with it. He took it and returned back to his home. The next day the super hero died and the monsters destroyed the village. The young boy escaped with the box. He lived a nomadic life fleeing from the monsters. The monsters wanted the artefacts in the box.
My grandfather paused here. He fumbled in his pocket and produced a key. He gave that key to me and told me that he was the young boy who stole the box. He told me that the box is now kept in an old desk with a locked drawer in the top of my parent's attic. He told me that my destiny was to protect the box until I found someone I can trust that secret with. I was lost for words. I couldn't understand what part of our conversation was real and what part of it was fiction. He pressed the key in my hands and told me to take good care of it. The doctor came for his regular visit and my grandfather left the room. That was the last conversation we had. Next day, my parents told me that my grandfather had gone missing. I was terribly depressed. I asked the doctors to discharge me if they cannot cure me. They told me that for some reason my health was improving in the last few days and they wanted to observe me for some more time. I obliged. The nurse brought me my usual medicine and a flask of milk. I never noticed that flask before and asked the nurse about it. He told me that my grandfather arranged for a man to bring me a flask of milk everyday for the last few days. I took a sip of that milk and realised that the taste was different but I couldn't quite articulate it.
A few days passed and I started feeling better. The doctors couldn't understand the developments. They discharged me. I came home and the first thing I did was to go to the attic. To my surprise the attic was clean and neat. It was freshly painted. My parents told me they decided to renovate the room to give me my own space. I asked them about the things in the attic. They couldn't understand my questions and the urgency in my voice. They told me they got rid of everything. I was heartbroken. I spent the rest of the years tracking down all the garbage dumps, pawn shops and old furniture stores trying to find the box for which I possess the key.
Today twenty years after my grandfather went missing, I found a drawer similar to the one we had at our home. It was at a used furniture shop. Not the fancy one, just a roadside one. I asked the owner and he told me that it has been there for as long as he can remember. I told him I had something similar when I was a kid and would like to buy it. He used my eagerness and bartered for a very high price but it was still peanuts for me. I took the key from my pocket and tried to open the drawer. The owner gave me an awkward look . The key did not work. He offered to open it using his own tools. It did succeed. Inside was a box just like the one my grandfather told me. I took it and realised it was little light in weight and some loose objects were inside. It was locked and I realised my key was meant for this box. I didn't want to open the box in that shop.
I took it home and opened it. When I lifted the lid the smell was overpowering. There was a strong scent of dust and dried leaves. Inside the box were several sheets of hand written paper and some crudely crafted objects.
One of the papers read "To My Grandson Lucky". They were the stories that my grandfather told me when I was in the hospital. He had painstakingly recorded them for posterity. He had even painstakingly crafted some of the objects that were mentioned in the stories. I couldn't hold the tears flowing from my eyes. I stretched myself in an armchair and began to read those stories. I could hear his voice narrating them to me.
THE END?
© spacebar
Write a short story that uses atleast two of the given situations:
1. An old, locked box in the attic.
2. A winding staircase that goes nowhere.
3. A broken mirror.
4. An old desk with a locked drawer.
Twenty years ago I was on my deathbed. Yes my deathbed. The doctors told me that I had but a few weeks to live. I suffered from a rare heart condition and there was no known treatment for that. Both my parents fell into depression. My grandfather was the only one who visited me in the hospital everyday. He was always cheerful and his presence lightened the mood for me. I no longer thought about death or worried about it when he was present. He told me stories about a powerful superhero who lived in his village when he was a young boy. Those stories made me forget about the present and think of better times.
The superhero unlike modern ones was an elderly gentleman. He fought against various monsters that attacked the village. The hero derived his strength from the milk of a cow that he raised. For reasons unknown the milk acted normally on other people. But the hero got superhuman strength, high intelligence and immunity against various poisons from the milk. The hero always carried a flask of milk with him. When he encountered a monster all he had to do was take a sip from his flask and he was ready to take the beast down. Everytime he slayed a monster they left behind a powerful artefact. The hero collected these artefacts and kept them in a box. These artefacts can bring great power and great misfortune to whoever uses them. The location of the box was a mystery and several villagers and outsiders tried to steal it from the hero. The stories about rouges trying to find the box had several spin offs. They all interested me equally.
The events my grandfather told me during the last visit were quite chilling. I didn't know that it would be the last visit but it was. One local boy succeeded in finding the location of the box. The hero had kept it on the top of an abandoned archerer's tower on the outskirts of the village. The boy reached the tower on a new moon day. It was dark except for the stars and the boy heard a lot of strange noises. There was no entrance to the tower and the boy had no idea how to climb to the top of it. The boy searched all night but couldn't find the entrance. He decided to give up and leave for home. Then, he heard a voice. He couldn't quite understand what the voice was telling him. He went close to the tower and found a lot of dust.. He removed the dust with his hand. It was a broken mirror. The cracks on the mirror gave an impression of a human face. The mirror asked the young boy to place his hand on it. The boy was scared but he obeyed the mirror. The hand and the rest of the boy was sucked by the mirror into the tower. The inside of the tower was dark. The boy realised that he was standing on a staircase. It was winding its way both up and down. The boy decided to climb up. He couldn't remember for how long he climbed. He didn't seem to be going anywhere. He grew tired and decided to rest on the staircase. The voice that spoke through the mirror told him not to rest on the staircase. the boy obeyed the voice and climbed the staircase. After what seemed like a day or week he reached the top of the tower. There was a small lamp lit in a large room. The room was dusty and smelt like dried leaves. After groping around the room the boy found what he came for. Among a lot of broken stones and leaves there lay the box. The key was also present with it. He took it and returned back to his home. The next day the super hero died and the monsters destroyed the village. The young boy escaped with the box. He lived a nomadic life fleeing from the monsters. The monsters wanted the artefacts in the box.
My grandfather paused here. He fumbled in his pocket and produced a key. He gave that key to me and told me that he was the young boy who stole the box. He told me that the box is now kept in an old desk with a locked drawer in the top of my parent's attic. He told me that my destiny was to protect the box until I found someone I can trust that secret with. I was lost for words. I couldn't understand what part of our conversation was real and what part of it was fiction. He pressed the key in my hands and told me to take good care of it. The doctor came for his regular visit and my grandfather left the room. That was the last conversation we had. Next day, my parents told me that my grandfather had gone missing. I was terribly depressed. I asked the doctors to discharge me if they cannot cure me. They told me that for some reason my health was improving in the last few days and they wanted to observe me for some more time. I obliged. The nurse brought me my usual medicine and a flask of milk. I never noticed that flask before and asked the nurse about it. He told me that my grandfather arranged for a man to bring me a flask of milk everyday for the last few days. I took a sip of that milk and realised that the taste was different but I couldn't quite articulate it.
A few days passed and I started feeling better. The doctors couldn't understand the developments. They discharged me. I came home and the first thing I did was to go to the attic. To my surprise the attic was clean and neat. It was freshly painted. My parents told me they decided to renovate the room to give me my own space. I asked them about the things in the attic. They couldn't understand my questions and the urgency in my voice. They told me they got rid of everything. I was heartbroken. I spent the rest of the years tracking down all the garbage dumps, pawn shops and old furniture stores trying to find the box for which I possess the key.
Today twenty years after my grandfather went missing, I found a drawer similar to the one we had at our home. It was at a used furniture shop. Not the fancy one, just a roadside one. I asked the owner and he told me that it has been there for as long as he can remember. I told him I had something similar when I was a kid and would like to buy it. He used my eagerness and bartered for a very high price but it was still peanuts for me. I took the key from my pocket and tried to open the drawer. The owner gave me an awkward look . The key did not work. He offered to open it using his own tools. It did succeed. Inside was a box just like the one my grandfather told me. I took it and realised it was little light in weight and some loose objects were inside. It was locked and I realised my key was meant for this box. I didn't want to open the box in that shop.
I took it home and opened it. When I lifted the lid the smell was overpowering. There was a strong scent of dust and dried leaves. Inside the box were several sheets of hand written paper and some crudely crafted objects.
One of the papers read "To My Grandson Lucky". They were the stories that my grandfather told me when I was in the hospital. He had painstakingly recorded them for posterity. He had even painstakingly crafted some of the objects that were mentioned in the stories. I couldn't hold the tears flowing from my eyes. I stretched myself in an armchair and began to read those stories. I could hear his voice narrating them to me.
THE END?
© spacebar
