Time Locked Away

Tony Penessa walked masterfully across the exposed rafters of the old colonial's hip roof, basking in the sunshine, grateful that now that the shingles were gone, the temperature had dropped an good seven degrees. Even the smallest blessings were cherished.

"Joey," Tony yelled down to his laborer. " rig up another sheet of plywood!"

As the laborer worked to rig the large sheet on the staging's pulley , Tony took a seat on the edge of the last sheet he had laid. Dangling his legs over the edge, he swung his legs one at a time, looking down at his feet, not much unlike a kid would, to amuse himself as the time passed. He stared down, watching his feet skim the top of the compact, old gray crumpled insulation, clearing a little valley with each pass. Truly amusing. The bed of wooly cellulose wore into boot size tracks until the toe of Tony's boots jarred the corner of something nestled underneath. Figuring it for an old scrap of wood pushed into the eaves, he pushed his toe into it, trying to lift it into view. It tumbled over on itself, proving that it was not long, and certainly not light. A flash reflected off of the corner of object as it rolled, as if winking back at the sun that kissed its surface.

"Ready to go!" a shout came from below.

Ignoring the call form his worker, Tony slid down, bending to retrieve the buried object.

As Joey was staring up to the roof's top, hand saluting the sky, he was greeted by the old man that owned the house, tray in hand, carrying what appeared to be iced tea.

"How's it coming?" the old man asked.

"Getting there. Half done." Came his reply. "Hey Tony! Drinks down here."

Tony sat back up on the lip of the finished portion of the roof, head coked to the side, curious about the ornate little box. "Coming down!"

Joey and the old man were engaged in chit chat as they caught view of Tony climbing down the staging with something nestled under one of his arms.

"Should have thrown that in the bucket boss..." Joey started and then stopped once he caught view of the box. His eyes widened as the sparkling gold edging and fancy inlays glittered in the July sun.

The old mans eyes glittered too, but for a different reason. "Where did you find that box?" He asked, almost mesmerized. He reached out to take possession of it like it was a baby, completely unaware of what the man was answering back to him. "It's been so many years" he chattered as he took the box from Tony and turned to go back inside, leaving the men as if they were not even there. The two men shrugged and went back to work.

Auturo made his way into the study, shelves of rich mahogany and the even richer artifacts, books and pictures adorned them; circling around him as he sat at his desk and placed the box in front of him, still gripping it with two hands and two wide eyes. His breathing was getting shorter and he moved his hands to his desk drawer to retrieve the key that would open it.

He acquired the box while in Romania in the 1950's. He had taken it from an old abandoned house that he and his team had come across while travelling. The reason he had taken possession of it was because the other men and women he was traveling with had been murdered while Auturo was making a run for provisions. He had never fully rationalized how they could have died, he found no weapons in their hands when he returned, just blood... so it was reasonable to assume that they could have killed each other, fighting over the box that now sat in front of him. He had grabbed the box and ran from the place without looking back.

He never gave it much mind though, drinking and drugging had helped him to forget. He had never opened the box... ended up burying it in the woods somewhere in Massachusetts. His breathing grew shorter and his heart raced in anticipation of what might be inside. It was as if it was pulling him in. He turned the key, despite his shaking hands, and he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. With his two thumbs, he flipped the lid open...

His heart sank as what was revealed was a puff of dust and a purple lined velvet interior.

"God dammit!" he yelled as he threw the box across the room. In his old age he was not able to generate enough force to break the box, which might have made him feel better, but it did erupt another plume of dust. The dust, however, instead of settling started to swirl around and rise up. Auturo sat dumbfounded, unable to process what was going on. As the smoke moved, it began to take make a visible form. First legs, growing into a torso and arms and ultimately a head of jet black hair to match everything else. As the form floated closer to him, its head began to raise, further hypnotizing Auturo where he stood. It finally made sense to him... what happened in the house in Romania. He felt a brief flash of terror, that ultimately was replaced with closure and peace, as the face with the gaping fangs embraced him and took away all of his pain.

There was nothing to hear. No screaming. No struggling. Auturo sank slowly to the floor, his blank stare locked on the box in the corner of the study that had closed itself back up...Just waiting for the next curious sucker to come along.

Tyler and Joey sat chuckling outside, enjoying the two iced teas that their gracious customer had made for them. They would surely have to thank him... and maybe find out about that box.


1000 Words
Roland Bontempo