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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “Embracing Shadows” Down in the Dirt, v146 (the June 2017 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the issue book Random Thoughts the Down in the Dirt July-Dec. 2016 collection book		get the 418 page May-August 2017 Down in the Dirt issue anthology 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

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Jack and Jill

Julia Bravo

    I swear I thought I heard the familiar, high-pitched ding that comes from the doorbell, but I didn’t see anyone at the door. The only thing that was there was this small wooden box cracking with splinters from its obvious use. At first, I was wary of picking it up. What could it be, though? I would only ever find out if I brought it inside, which I knew was probably a bad idea. My curiosity got the best of me and I picked it up, as carefully as I could, and set it onto my glass table. My next move wasn’t planned, obviously, because I was simply standing, staring with my eyes wide open.
    I must have been lost in thought because Jill, my best friend and roommate, walked up and touched my shoulder. Since I had been so deep into whatever I was thinking, I shrieked when she touched me.
    “Whoa!” said Jill, “chill out, man, I was just checking out what you have been staring at for the past twenty minutes.”
    “Have I been staring for that long?”
    “Yes. Well... Unless I lost the ability to tell time.”
    “I don’t know what to do with it.”
    “Okay. Have you thought about, I don’t know, opening it?”
    “You’re funny, but you’re reckless. This could be anything. I work for the government. Remember?”
    “You brought it in. I don’t think opening it is going to do much more damage than that.”
    After agreeing with Jill, I turned the box in the air with the tips of my fingers. I tried to be as gentle as I could, but the box was heavy. The splintering wood prickled my skin every time I touched it. I came across a tiny line of text, like the fine print of a legal document, but it was worn out and barely legible. I saw the word caution and once again panicked. Everything had been perfectly normal and safe. That is, before Jill talked me into doing something careless. Jill had a way of talking me into doing things I normally wouldn’t do.
    I dropped the box onto the table, causing a thud that I was afraid might shatter the glass. Then, suddenly, I heard glass actually shattering. I stood still for a minute to make sure that my eyes weren’t deceiving me and the table had been broken, but I was right the first time. It wasn’t the table that had cracked into pieces. I heard Jill yell from the living room and immediately ran in there. Which must be what she did when she heard it. I always was envious of her speedy reflexes.
    “Someone threw a rock through the window,” explained Jill, “with a note tied to it. Very cliché.”
    “What does the note say?” I asked.
    “It says ‘Open it. Tap three times.’ To my surprise, the cliché didn’t continue with letters cut out of a magazine. It looks like it was written in regular hand writing.”
    “I’m calling 911.”
    “No! Just open it. What’s the harm? If you were going to be hurt, wouldn’t they have done it already?”
    “Not necessarily. It could be rigged to explode only when we open it. The sender could have merely been impatient with us, explaining the note.”
    “Just do it. Here, I will.” She headed back into the kitchen to stand at the table.
    “No! Stop!” I said as I ran after her.
    It was too late, though. She had already started tapping on the box, and with force. I stared for minute, cursed my slower-than-Jill reflexes, and right before the third tap I ducked to the ground. I covered my head and neck, instinctively.
    “Hahaha!”
    “What is it?” I said, slowly rising from the ground.
    “Ha!” She thought she was hilarious and laughed at my paranoia for a bit and finally said, “I am so clever.”
    I felt ridiculous staring at the now open box. I had spent hours wondering what was in it. Worrying what might happen to me since I mistakenly brought it into our house. Now it stared back at me with that silly Jack-In-The-Box smile. I should be less paranoid, like Jill.

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