Short Story 2012

It was November 23rd 2007 when I received the box. It had been sent wrapped in plain brown wrapping paper with a hand written address. I picked it up and heard it roll. I placed it on the nearest table I could find and quickly opened it. Inside was a metallic box about a foot in diameter.

The cigarettes here aren't what they use to be. When the blast happened I had not thought about cigarettes to store.

I turn around the metal box looking for an opening, its surface smooth and flawless except for a round circle. It wasn't until fall of 2008 when I was able to open the box. The day it happened was a typical moving stuff out of storage I had been collecting. Just throwing it in a box and packing it away. I sat on the carpeted floor with the banana box, the box they use to ship bananas, in front of me and opened it. I heard the phone in the distance and had placed my left hand on the metallic box and it made a noise. I hadn't noticed it at first with the ring of the telephone. I picked up the phone.

"Hello"

"Is this Hortense Faucher speaking?" the voice emitted from the phone.

"Yes it is. May I ask who this is?" I replied.

"Repeat the letters after me, p,t,n,i."

"P, T, N, I . . .what is that?" I questioned as the other line clicked.

"Please hang up and try your call again. If you need help press zero" the recorded telephone operator beamed.

I placed the phone on the receiver and walked over to the banana box. It looked different this time. There were eight letters blocks, small wooden pieces with letters like from the game scrabble,: i,e,f,j,p,s,n,t; and four slots to hold letters in. I looked at them and starred as my mind tried making sense.

"P, T, N, I." I said aloud. All the letters were there. I put the letters in the slots, thinking I had figured out the riddle of all riddles. I sat there and waited. nothing happened.

I went in the other room and started to unpack books to go on the bookshelf. After throwing them on the bookshelves I decided to categorize them. My psychology and mind collection had been my passion. I wanted to read anything from the early pioneers of science and psychology. I noticed one book had a piece of paper sticking from the top. I pulled the book out and opened to the page. Staring on the blank page were four letters: I, N, T, P. The book was about Myers Briggs and the development of personality types. I raced to the box once again and rearranged the letters. Instantly there was a puff of orange smoke that blew from underneath the letters and splattered my face. The letters had fallen into the open box that had a scroll inside.