Box

Jimmy pushed the headphones tighter to his ears and turned up the music on his phone. Even at the highest volume he could still hear his stepfather Carl scream at his mom.

Rain began to splatter against the window outside.

He looked out and saw the trees in the garden sway in the rising wind. Streetlights blurred in the night as the deluge poured down.
When he turned around his mother was stood in the doorway of his room. Her face puffed from crying, a small red mark under her eye.

“Jimmy, it’s time for bed sweetie. You got school in the morning,” she told him. Her soft voice trembling.

“You alright Mom?”

“I’m fine baby, you know how Carl can get. That man has a temper but he don’t mean it,” she replied.

She left and shut the door. Jimmy climbed under the sheets before he turned out the bedside lamp.
He set the alarm on his phone for 7.45am and placed it on the locker, already dreading another day at school.

The shrill beep of the alarm woke him with the room still dark. He looked at the clock and it read 3.33am.
Still sleepy, Jimmy assumed he must have set his clock wrong but when he checked it was set at 7.45am.
A clicking sound drew his attention toward the end of the bed. On the floor between his bed and the back wall was a large cardboard box.

The noise started to get louder. Click, click click…

The lid of the box opened slowly. Jimmy stared at it terrified unable to look away.
Long, dirty fingernails appeared at the rim of the box. Click, click, click…
These nails edged down the front of the box attached to pale, veiny hands.

Jimmy screamed and buried his head under the pillows. He lay like this for a long time, paralysed with fear.
When he felt brave enough he peeped from beneath the sheets. The box was gone, scattered video game cases were all that remained on the floor at the end of his bed.

Sunshine streaming through gaps in the curtain woke him the following morning. Jimmy rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. With everything the same as always, he convinced himself he must have dreamt about the box.

He got dressed, went to the kitchen, ate some breakfast and walked to school.



The punches and kicks flew in as he lay curled up on the ground. Other kids formed a circle around while Collins and Deeks continued their attack.

“Get up and fight Shaw, you pussy,” Collins spat in his face bringing another fist down.

When they had finally finished Jimmy waited in the foetal position on the ground until the others dispersed. He got up slowly, wiped the blood from his nose and dusted himself down. This was the third time this month Deeks and Collins had started on him after class so by now he was used to the drill.

Shaw took his phone from his rucksack and called his Mom. The call went straight to voicemail which meant his mother was still at work and he would have to walk home.

His side ached as he trudged along the pathway back to his house.
Carl was sat on the porch when Shaw got back. Crushed beer cans lay at his feet, a cigarette dangled from his lips.

“Them kids beating you again Jimmy,” Carl slurred noticing the blood drying under the kids nose, “you gotta toughen up or else they’ll never leave you alone boy.”

“Ya I know,” Jimmy muttered back, “is my Mom home yet?”

Before his stepfather could answer he opened the porch door and went into the house.

A note on the fridge let him know that his mom was working late that night so he went to his room and played video games until it was time to go to bed.

It took him a while to get to sleep, the bruising on his side now hummed with pain.

The alarm on his phone broke the silence of the night. Jimmy grabbed it from the locker, the time read 3.33am.
Filled with apprehension he glanced down toward the floor at the end of his bed.

The box was there again, a clicking sound began as the lid opened. Click, click, click…

Pale, veiny hands appeared over the rim of the box. Jimmy wanted to hide under the sheets but his eyes remained transfixed on the box.
A head emerged, ghastly white with no other features. The thing inside rose slowly and unnaturally. Its withered, pale body covered with red scarring. Click, click, click…

Its head almost touched the ceiling by the time it stopped moving. It stood there motionless for a few moments, the clicking now hammering in Jimmy’s ears.

Suddenly the thing raised its right arm, pointing a long withered finger at the boy in the bed.

Warm urine dribbled down Jimmy’s leg, breaking him from his trance. He again buried his head under the pillows, praying it would have the same effect as the previous night.

Moments later, the noise ceased and Jimmy peered from under the pillow. The thing and its box were gone.
He did not sleep for the rest of the night. A wave of relief swept over him as the sun rose, announcing the following morning.

The electronic beep of his alarm startled him at 7.45am. Jimmy reached for the phone on the locker. It fumbled out of his hand and fell on the floor. He reached down to pick it up but as he did a long, pale withered hand came from under the bed and grabbed his wrist.
Jimmy screamed although no sound emanated from his mouth. The thing pulled his wrist and dragged the boy underneath.

Later that morning his mother came into his room. She saw Jimmy’s phone beep on the ground, the time read 3.33am. She thought it was strange he would not bring his phone with him so went and rang his school.