Random stories

I had been living at home for 2 years. College was over, I was broke, and it turns out nobody wants to hire recent grads with minimal experience in anything. So there I was back in my old room, laying on my old bed staring up at the Zelda poster I got on my 10th birthday.

I quickly learned that Mom did not appreciate the slob lifestyle I had adopted at college. My room reached a critical point where she drew a line and said enough was enough and it was time to clean it. Great.

"You've got boxes of papers going as far back as elementary school, how about you sort some of this junk?"

She had a point. It was junk. I kept so much stuff thinking one day I'd want to flip through it all again and relive my glory days but the truth is now in my mid-20s I couldn't care less about those old papers. The first essay I got an A+ on in AP Literature? No thanks. Garbage. My Chemistry final exam where I heroically got above an 88% to secure an A? I remembered meticulously calculating the score I needed - which just happened to be an 87% - and the triumph I felt when I got the needed grade. But again, the thrill of those memories had faded. and now the exam was just a sad, tattered piece of paper that meant very little to me. Garbage. First note I ever received from a girl? Blegh, Emily G. G as in garbage, am I right? Garbage. Garbage, garbage, garbage. And more garbage.

Then a 1980's prime Mike Tyson body shot hit me.

It was that box. *I had forgotten all about it*. When Joey gave it to me and told me not to open it for 15 years I smiled and nodded thinking he was nuts, but something about the intensity in his eyes compelled me to do as I was asked. Rather than be tempted by it later I stuffed it into my closet a few weeks after receiving it. That was around the same time Joey had disappeared.

"August 1, 2020" it read. I had written the awaited date on there incase I forgot and it's a good thing I did.

"Well shit, that's today!" I exclaimed excitedly. What a find! Thanks, Mom.

I grabbed the little box. It was a navy box, square-shaped, and its angular corners had dulled a bit with time and while jostling with other bits of junk that had accumulated in my closet. It was heavier than I remembered, too. Gosh, what a find indeed.

I didn't open it right away. More than any of those old papers or mementos, something about this box really took me back. Maybe it's because it was the last time I saw Joey before he disappeared. Maybe it's because for several days I just stared and stared at this goofy box and wondered what was in it. Was this some elaborate joke that old Joey never got to see the pay-off for? Shit. He was a good kid. I wonder what happened to him. Sucks.

A single piece of yellowed tape held the lid on. It was brittle now and broke effortlessly as I ran my finger through it. Alright, Joey, let's see what you've got for me after all this time.

It was a roll of film, like from an old camera. That's it?

Naturally I was too curious to wait and take it to the store to have it developed the old-fashioned way, so I just held it up to the afternoon light coming in through my window. My eyes took a second to adjust to the images as the colors were inverted on that amber roll, and it took me a few moments to puzzle it together. It looked like some guy sitting on a floor in a room.

Oh shit, that looks like my room.

Oh shit, that looks like *me*! In my room...*right now*!

But what? The contents of this box are over a decade old so how can this be? Maybe he took an old film of me or something and I just happened to be - nope. Nope, nope, nope. There I am, even in the stills I am yanking a reel of film held aloft and looking at it just like I am now. I've got the same striped t-shirt on, too. Based on the angle of the images there must be a camera or something in the upper left corner of my...

The f is *that*?! When was that put there?

Sure enough there was a small silver device, about half the size of a cell phone, mounted in the upper corner of my room. A single blue light coming out of it. *Who put that up there?*

I rise to my feet, still tugging the film across my hands and trying to make sense of every frame. I rise to my feet in the images simultaneously. *What is going on...*

I stagger a bit in shock and start to pace about my room, and my double in the reel does the same. We're moving and shifting about together as if we're dancing. Sometimes it seems like my movements are a second ahead of his - er, mine - and sometimes it seems like I'm a second or two behind. It's so disorienting. I can't make sense of any of this. I'm pulling and pulling and the reel is nearing its conclusion. There is not much film left. I've almost exhausted all the images. *What is this supposed to show me?*

I pace, and pace, and frantically examine everything and then I see it. A man bursts through my door. I don't recognize him. He stands over me, on the floor with the film, and for several frames we simply look at each other. If we are exchanging words it's unclear to me from such a small image. Then he's drawing what looks to be a weapon from his massive coat.

I stop. I don't want to see the rest. See my own execution, surely that's where this is headed. I look at my closed door in terror. What if this is real? What if it's a warning? *What am I supposed to do, Joey?*

"I need to get out of here" I whisper in disbelief. I don't dare do anything as obvious as exit through the very door my assassin may be waiting at. I don't dare call out either.

The window!

I run to the window near the foot of my bed and lift it up. It's a long way down but maybe if I can hang on from the window sill and drop the rest of the way from the second story it won't be so bad. It won't be so bad, right? Better than what awaits me here, anyway.

I execute my plan and am dismayed by how out of shape I am. Now in my mid-20s and several years removed from a gym it is harder to hold myself up than I thought it'd be. Turns out all those guys in the movies have the strongest fingers in the world. I spend precious few seconds of my limited energy inching around by my fingertips to get into an ideal position, and then I hear it. A sound from inside my room. A loud, clattering a bang, as if a door has been blown off its hinges that makes me startle. I look up into what little I can see of my room from my position and there's a shadow moving along the ceiling.

It's got to be my executioner. Just like in the images. *Joey, how did you know?*

Now that my foe is upon me I have no choice but to drop, so I drop. He hadn't seen me yet but surely he'd notice the open window within a few seconds.

I land with an unflattering thud that causes me to sprawl out on the lawn but I seem unhurt. I scramble to my feet, a flurry of grass stains and sweat, just in time to see a silver car pull up and screech to a halt mere steps away from me in front of our house. The passenger door swings open.

"Get in! Come on, come on!" a voice from inside calls out as I fumble my way over to the vehicle. I'm not thinking clearly, all I want to do is get away from the house so I don't even question who is in the car.

"Glad to see you know how to follow directions!" the driver calls out again as I'm just a few feet from the passenger side. "Looks like you're the only one who did! Now get in here!" It sounds like a kid. It sounds like...Joey.

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Submitted by walrussss987 on Thu, Sep 01, 2022 to /r/WritingPrompts/

The prompt

Your friend gives you a box, asking you to keep it closed for 15 years, before disappearing without a trace. Today, the 15 years is up.