Jewelry Box

Laura’s thumb rested on the button, pressing it over and over again. The channels changed, but nothing else seemed to. It was four o’clock in the afternoon and there was nothing on. She gazed dull-eyed at the TV screen, biting her lip as she tried to think of something to do.

Her backpack lay forlorn and deflated-looking against the wall, where she’d tossed it before picking up the remote, but pre-algebra word problems and essays on the sinking of the Titanic weren’t exactly calling her name, and they could always be put off for a few hours.

“Mom’s not going to be home until six,” she said into the now-quiet air of the empty house as she switched off the TV and surreptitiously climbed the stairs. Her bedroom was down the hall, shelves lined with books and toys, dolls she hadn’t picked up in years. After all, one does not reach the mature age of eleven without sacrificing some childhood things.

Laura crept into her mother’s room and sighed in the silence. Dusty afternoon sunlight lay across the flowered comforter. Unlike her own messy little room, everything was organized: clothes hung, bed made. Even the bureau was neat. Smiling, she reached for the red wooden chest that sat next to the mirror, flicking the latch open with a thumbnail. She wasn’t supposed to be there, she knew, but she wouldn’t get caught. And it didn’t matter as long as she put everything back, she told herself as she reached inside.

The first thing that her small, slender fingers touched was a floral pendant, a delicate enamel lily on a silver chain, and it winked in the sun as she lay it gently on the bed, stroking its petals. Plain silver stud earrings followed and a huge, jeweled butterfly pin that she could never remember her mom wearing. She pawed through the chest, finding cheap old costume jewelry mixed in with amethyst earrings, gold necklaces and an odd amber pendant that she couldn’t help but run her fingers over again and again. All sat on the bed in a motley crew.

A pair of jet black earrings caught her eye. Picking them up, she cradled them in her palm. Intricate black buds, carved into the shape of flowers, delicate petals just barely opened. She couldn’t remember he mom ever wearing these. Reaching up with her other hand, she tucked her long brown hair back behind her left ear, lifting one and removing the backing as she placed it in her own pierced ear. But she only had a moment to admire it before she found herself in darkness.

To be continued ..... when I finish writing the story.