Locked Wooden Box

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
*How can a locked wooden box kill a person, his wife and his unborn babies?*

Wrote it in my Cambridge O Level English language 1123/12 as a CREATIVE WRITING! It may look like a dumb story! I know LOL :D But I want something spooky and thrilling, so I just ended up with this! :P Do tell me how it is! And also rate it out of 30!

**And most important of all, people have been saying me this thing that the story seems a lot rushed and it needs to be more length etc. I want to tell and apologize to you that BECAUSE OF THE WORD LIMIT it was difficult for me to exaggerate the story. So please people, try to understand this thing. Regars Sid! :)**

Submitted: July 14, 2014

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Submitted: July 14, 2014

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Write a story in which a locked wooden box plays an important part. (Word limit: 350-500)

Life seemed perfect to Majid when he took his new bride, Laiba to the lovely two-storey cottage he had built for his deceased first wife. He gave her that seductive and voluptuous wooden box on the first day of their marriage and told her to keep it with her every time. That is when the problems began.

Things were very happy for about a year, and Majid was ecstatic when he learned Laiba was expecting twins. The house was rather small for a double addition to the family, so they decided to put the cottage up for sale and started searching for a bigger house.

Suddenly, the house would be filled with the distinctive smell of perfume. When Majid smelled it for the first time, he turned pale and told Laiba that it was the scent his dead wife had favoured. Then furniture that Laiba had rearranged moved back to its original position. The books in Majid’s study were taken out of their categories and were arranged in alphabetical order. The way his dead wife had kept them.  The ghost of Majid’s first wife had returned to the little cottage. But why now, after a complete year he had remarried?

One afternoon, Laiba was busy in the basement doing laundry, while Majid was gone to the office. As she finished emptying the washing machine, Laiba went upstairs where she saw a young women flooting a foot above the staircase, holding that locked wooden box in her hands.

“This is my box!” Her pretty face transformed with rage. She shook her fist at Laiba. Laiba screamed, dropped the basket of wet laundry and ran towards the basement.

Slamming the basement door behind her, she tried to grasp for breath. Suddenly, the basement door started shaking violently.

“This is my box! If you will not give me my box, something terrible will happen to you and your family!” The roar of car’s engine pierced the ghost’s words.

When Laiba described the ghost to Majid, he identified her as his first wife. Until then, he had forgotten that it was the box which he had given to his dead wife on their honeymoon. The locked box contained some unknown belongings of his first wife which Laiba did not know.

The couple tried to appease the ghost by bringing in a priest to pray over the cottage. But the house continued to be filled with the choking smell of perfume. Laiba was worried about her unborn babies, living in such a haunted atmosphere. Finally, the couple decided to defy the phantom and sell the house and the box. Majid swept all the memories of his dead wife away.

On the night following the couple’s move, Laiba was struck with a terrible pain in her abdomen. Majid rushed her to the hospital where she gave birth to the twins, who were stillborn. On his way home, Majid’s car was strucked by a truck and he was killed instantly. At the same time, Laiba sat bolt upright in her hospital bed. She screamed once at the sight of phantom, floating before her eyes, and then she died instantly from a brain aneurysm.

To conclude, we all have different possessions, which gives us pleasure. Supposedly, in our all times. However, who knew that that old little box could result in one’s bizarre and strange sinister fate.

The mystry of the wooden box remains a secret.
..

 


 




© Copyright 2020 mhamzasiddiqui. All rights reserved.

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