This Dark Paradise- a collection of dark tales

The Jeweled Box

WhenI turned sixteen, my aunt handed me a parcel wrapped in brown paperwhich was tied with string. My fingers pulled at the bow, thenspider-walked over the paper and tore it apart.

Ilooked in awe at the small jeweled box on my lap. I was used toseeing it on the shelf of my aunt's library, firmly locked. It wasnestled between writers I once thought odd, like Rossetti and Poe whoI'd be subjected to as a child. I endured night after night of myaunt reading excerpts of their poetry. Though as a child I loathedtheir dark, macabre work, as I grew I began to crave it.

Soon,I wanted to dive into those books, propel myself into the ill-litsidewalks, the cobblestone streets and graveyard gardens Poe wroteabout. I fantasized about him, about his dark eyes and hisdrug-filled gaze.

WhenI daydreamed of Rossetti, I contemplated her sorrow. How dark of aplace her mind must have been to write so well. I dreamed of herhands, of how she might how a plume. I dreamed of the skin betweenher fingers and how she would taste were I to bite into her flesh.

Iremember sneaking into the library, running my hand over those books,slipping between the pages. When I brought my fingers to my mouth Itasted dust and blood.

Iremember pressing my lips to the jeweled box. I was forbidden fromlooking inside. My aunt scolded me when I reached for the lock andtried to open it. Once, she dragged me to the mud-soaked garden ofour home. It had been raining for days. She tossed me into the yardwhere I fell into puddles. She made sure I stayed there until I sworeto whatever God could hear me that I would never try to open the boxagain.

Inmy chambers, my aunt fed me broth. She promised the fever would fade.I hallucinated, screaming that I saw phantoms on the walls. I wokeher at three AM the following night, still burning with fever,murmuring that I needed to waltz with the ghosts that reached for me,that I longed for the darkness they brought. She dabbed a cool clothto my head, called me her jewel, and said soon I would be allowed toslip away from the light.

Onceyou find darkness, you will no longer crave the light. Indarkness, you shed the ghost from within the shell. There you will beyour true self, electrifying the world, shattering suns and starlighttill Gods and monsters fear you.

Shehad to hold me down when I tried to flee to the shadowy forms. Ibegged to wet my teeth when whispered voices offered me chalicesfilled with blood.

When themoon shattered; splinters of light shone on the jeweled box bringingevery ruby, amber, emerald, and onyx to life.

Looking at my gift, I asked my aunt if I was allowed to now open the box. She handed me the keyand replied, "It is yours now. It was always meant to be yourson your sixteenth birthday, not before."

Outsidesummer turned to fall. Every flower wilted and died. I heard larksflee before the cruel grip of October plucked off their wings.

Withthe box tucked under my arm, I walked towards my chamber. I did notnotice shadows following me. When I shut the door and sat on my bedwith the jeweled box on my lap, the shadows sat with me.

Timestood still, or perhaps it moved so swiftly I could no longer tellone hour from the next. Twin figures rose on either side of me,grotesque entities with hollow eyes and sharp fangs. Where skinshould have been on slender arms, tiny beetles stood. The shadowsbeckoned me near, reaching insect hands towards me. I welcomed theirinvitation when I slipped the key into the lock and turned it. Theshadows spilled forth, phantom hands pushed me down. As I leaned backand felt my head touch the pillow, one of the shadows slithered overme and kissed my lips.

Ina dream I was flying, a lark with a summer soul. Failing to see I wasreally falling for falling always feels like flying, at least tillyou hit the floor.

Iwoke with a start, cradling the now open box. My eyes ached, mythroat was dry. Running my tongue over the edges of my teeth, Itasted blood. I bolted up and the jeweled box fell to the floor.Rubies and emeralds shattered. Amber and onyx cracked.

Midnightchimed as bats scattered toward the waxing moon. The shadows led theway, two became three then four, multiplying till I had one for everyjewel on the box. We walked towards ill-lit streets, down cobblestoneroads, towards graveyard gardens. My hands caressed tombstones andtraced the names etched in stone. I listened for Gods and Devilsfighting for souls but heard nothing except the beating of my heart.

Mythroat was parched. A wretched hunger stirred. I welcomed the shadowswhen they took me in their embrace. I fell in love with every monsterthat rammed its hand into my mouth, offering me dirt, blood andflesh. I swallowed down every bit till the rumbling in my bellystopped and the thirst had gone away.

Ifell to my knees. The shadows fell too. When I looked into their eyesthey shone, red, amber, green, black.

Wedug up the ground, buried our faces into the earth. We shared thenight with howling beasts and savored the darkness. When I looked up,I understood what my aunt had meant. Darkness was beautiful. Iwelcomed the shadows' cold hands when they slipped around my neck.