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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1591661-Pandoras-Box
Rated: E · Short Story · Dark · #1591661
Some things should NEVER be opened...
October 27th 1992, a day that will live in infamy for me. I was 7 years old, such a young age to go through something so... terrible. I remember I was running late for school. I stayed up too late the night before playing Super Mario Brothers on the SNES. I was having so much fun I lost track of time, but can you blame me? I was eating mushrooms and jumping on little tomatoes, I could shoot fireballs. But thats not really what this is about. I jumped in the shower and used my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles soap, so that way I could face the day with turtle power, nothing could stop me. Or so I thought. I got dressed, I put on my Ghost Busters tightey-whiteys (the Turtles would understand, they were in the washer...) and my Michaelangelo T-shirt (see all is forgiven) and headed towards the kitchen. And there it was. Pandora's box. The large green rectangle with the picture of the turtles leering up at me. The smiles on their faces mocking me. They knew what was in that cursed box but how was I to know. At any rate I never knew the danger. The adrenaline rush from running late was clouding my thoughts. I grabbed the lunchbox and bolted for the door.

It wasn't until I was sitting on the bus that I heard it. A low rumble, almost a growl. I looked to my left...nothing. I looked to my right...just the window. Grglrgrglr! There it was again, except this time it seemed to come from below me, no wait, inside me. Startled I felt my stomach, Grglrgrglr!It was definitely coming from there. I suddenly began to feel a very slight burning in my stomach, and I realized at that point, I had nothing to eat for breakfast. I looked down at my Mickey Mouse watch...oh man...the big hand was only at the 7 and the little hand was on the 8. Oh man, 07:45 AM, lunch isn't for HOURS. I sighed and leaned back in my chair, distraught at the thought of 5 more hours until I could finally eat. It was at that moment I had a thought, a thought that set about a chain of events that created something so horrifying I am almost unable to write this. But someone has to write it, others have to be warned of the dangers.

As I sat on the cold pleather of the bus on that bleak October morning, something invaded my mind. A supernatural force crept in to the darkest reaches of my brain and implanted one simple thought “Whats in the lunchbox?”.  Before I knew it my hands were fumbling around my feet looking for the hard plastic of  my lunch box. I lifted it slowly to my lap and stared down upon the faces of my beloved Ninja Turtles. But something was off. There normal smile and attitude seemed skewed today. The way they used to look at me as if to say “COWABUNGA DUDE!” was missing. Four cold hard faces leered up at me, daring me to open it. But I'm no fool. I knew a kid NEVER opens the lunch box on the school bus. You just don't do that, it was like some unwritten kid law. I wasn't sure why at the time, if only I had known. But some part of me was excited at the taboo of opening the box on the school bus. I was curious at the feeling I got from it. My hands began to shake nervously as I felt the tiny plastic clasps. I realized my mistake and I quickly pulled my hands away as if they had been burned. I silently scolded myself for having almost given in to my temptations. I placed the box on the seat beside me.

Grglrgrglr! The voice of reason was being drowned out by the pleads of my stomach. I tried to think of other things, like the game I was playing the night before, how much fun it had be-Grglrgrglr! Dang...no luck there. Again, as if on their own my hands reached towards the box and gently set it upon my lap. My thoughts began to drift towards what Mom might have placed in there. Was it PB&J? Was it Ham and Cheese? Did she give me Doritos, or Cheeto's?  My mind began to run with the endless possibilities of tasty treats that might be locked away inside this devilish box. I began to sweat profusley as my hand again reached the tiny clasps holding in the cursed treasures and before I could stop my self,SNICK , I popped the first clasp. Excited at my own brash action I quickly, SNICK, popped the second one. I was so close, I could smell the first wafts of the  PB&J (Whoo-hoo) Mom knew me oh so well. After that I kind of blacked out. I remember bits and pieces of it though, the ravenous devouring of the sandwich. The ferocious way I attacked the Doritos (score again for Mom). And even the green apple was shown no mercy by the cold dark beast known only as Hunger.

I remember waking in sort of a daze somewhere in first period, the orange stains on my fingers a dead give away of the terrible crime I had committed earlier that day. But I had yet to fully realize the implications of my actions. The rest of the morning went by normally, I was unaware of the true horror that awaited me. It finally showed its ugly face at lunch time. I was so excited for lunch, I had forgotten all about my crime earlier that morning. Until...this is hard for me...until I opened the box, only to find it was...it was....EMPTY! From that day on I never opened my lunch box on the bus. The thought of another 8 hour day at school with nothing at lunch still makes me shudder.
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