mountaineer68
Cadet
Ok, thsi is a one-parter I wrote for a class. I need a title, and if you ahve any ideas or advice for mys tory please tell me!! 
tahnks so much :trampoline:
Title: (none)
Author: mountaineer68
I won all the characters iun this story.
It was a cold and cloudy day during January when we moved into our new house. My husband and I were busy almost all day unpacking the moving van. The beds, couches, chairs, armoires, and tables were all placed into the correct rooms, and most of the boxes were put in the attic. It took three long months to unpack the majority of the boxes and make the new house feel like our home.
We lived comfortably in our new house for nearly a year. During the first week of December, the boxes of Christmas decorations were brought downstairs and into the living room. There were only four or five boxes still remaining in the attic. We weren’t certain about what was in them, and until we needed to find something, we probably wouldn’t open them.
That week we started to decorate the house, and everything went fine until we realized that we were missing the Christmas lights for outside. I went upstairs to search for them. I picked up one of the plain brown boxes and opened it up. On the top there was a white sheet with a layer of dust, all scrunched up. I pulled that out and found a square object that was wrapped in a few layers of tissue paper. I curiously unwrapped it, wanting to know what was inside, and discovered a small woven box with a latch on it.
I took a few minutes to just hold it in my hands, trying to remember some little detail about it, but surprisingly, I couldn’t recall one thing about this little brown box. I must have been taking longer than I thought I had, because my husband quickly called up to me, asking if I had found the lights yet. I told him that I hadn’t, and then I went back to searching through the boxes.
The third box that I looked in was full of Christmas lights. When I walked out the room, I saw the small box again, sitting on the lid of a closed box that I had recently searched. As I walked down the stairs and out into the living room, I couldn’t stop wondering about that box. The thing that bothered me the most, was not being able to recognize it or remember anything about it. I have a good memory, and I can recognize almost anything I have seen, even more so, something that I have lived with and packed up myself.
Later that evening, I was sitting on the couch with my husband, watching a Christmas movie on TV. Even after many hours of decorating, talking, cooking, and laughing, I still couldn’t stop thinking about the mysterious object that I found in the attic earlier that day. It was just so weird that I didn’t even recognize it as my own. It finally occurred to me that maybe my husband had bought it before we moved in together, and I had just never seen it before. I asked him if he knew about it. He said that it didn’t sound like something that was his, but we decided to go look at it anyways. Once we got up to the attic, the box wasn’t in the same spot that it was earlier. It was on the opposite side of the room on a small end table. I told him that, and we both thought that was weird. He picked up the little box and looked at it for a few minutes. We both concluded that we had never seen it before.
I brought it with us into our bedroom and set in on my night stand next to the bed. That night I woke up and I got up to get some water. As I walked back into my bedroom I smelled something sweet, like a perfume. The scent was familiar, but I couldn’t tell where I knew it from. As I got closer to my night stand to set down my water glass, the smell got stronger. I thought that maybe the smell was coming from the box, so I opened it up. Just as I had thought, the box had a perfume-like scent. This seemed to be getting weirder and weirder. I tried to go back to sleep, but I just kept on tossing and turning.
Finally after an hour or so, I fell asleep, but only to be awoken a short while later. I woke up suddenly with this eerie sense that someone was around me. I opened my eyes and looked around, carefully, almost afraid to find someone. I didn’t see anyone, but I did see that the box that was closed earlier was now open. I hadn’t opened it. After this, I had even more trouble sleeping.
The next morning, when I woke, I slowly got up, stretching while getting my eyes adjusted to the light. My husband was already awake. I looked at the small box on my night stand, and it was once again closed. After last night, I couldn’t help but wonder about this foreign box even more. It could have been my mind, or it could have been real.
My husband and I went on like this for a few months, never figuring out what this box’s story was, but around December next year, we were looking through old family albums. I saw a picture of my great-grandmother sitting in her living room with me as a baby. The little woven box sat on the coffee table in front of her. The box kept on reappearing in pictures of my great-grandmother—the very last one being a picture of her funeral. The box sat on a small table with some other objects and photos that reminded us of my great-grandmother. I finally realized what this box’s story was. I also knew why that scent had been so familiar and yet so vague.
Now, I have the little brown box sitting on a table in our living room, along with some photos of my great-grandmother and other deceased relatives. Now I know that my great-grandmother’s spirit is always with me. I always keep it open, as a way of letting her spirit be free.
So, what do you think??
tahnks so much :trampoline: Title: (none)
Author: mountaineer68
I won all the characters iun this story.
It was a cold and cloudy day during January when we moved into our new house. My husband and I were busy almost all day unpacking the moving van. The beds, couches, chairs, armoires, and tables were all placed into the correct rooms, and most of the boxes were put in the attic. It took three long months to unpack the majority of the boxes and make the new house feel like our home.
We lived comfortably in our new house for nearly a year. During the first week of December, the boxes of Christmas decorations were brought downstairs and into the living room. There were only four or five boxes still remaining in the attic. We weren’t certain about what was in them, and until we needed to find something, we probably wouldn’t open them.
That week we started to decorate the house, and everything went fine until we realized that we were missing the Christmas lights for outside. I went upstairs to search for them. I picked up one of the plain brown boxes and opened it up. On the top there was a white sheet with a layer of dust, all scrunched up. I pulled that out and found a square object that was wrapped in a few layers of tissue paper. I curiously unwrapped it, wanting to know what was inside, and discovered a small woven box with a latch on it.
I took a few minutes to just hold it in my hands, trying to remember some little detail about it, but surprisingly, I couldn’t recall one thing about this little brown box. I must have been taking longer than I thought I had, because my husband quickly called up to me, asking if I had found the lights yet. I told him that I hadn’t, and then I went back to searching through the boxes.
The third box that I looked in was full of Christmas lights. When I walked out the room, I saw the small box again, sitting on the lid of a closed box that I had recently searched. As I walked down the stairs and out into the living room, I couldn’t stop wondering about that box. The thing that bothered me the most, was not being able to recognize it or remember anything about it. I have a good memory, and I can recognize almost anything I have seen, even more so, something that I have lived with and packed up myself.
Later that evening, I was sitting on the couch with my husband, watching a Christmas movie on TV. Even after many hours of decorating, talking, cooking, and laughing, I still couldn’t stop thinking about the mysterious object that I found in the attic earlier that day. It was just so weird that I didn’t even recognize it as my own. It finally occurred to me that maybe my husband had bought it before we moved in together, and I had just never seen it before. I asked him if he knew about it. He said that it didn’t sound like something that was his, but we decided to go look at it anyways. Once we got up to the attic, the box wasn’t in the same spot that it was earlier. It was on the opposite side of the room on a small end table. I told him that, and we both thought that was weird. He picked up the little box and looked at it for a few minutes. We both concluded that we had never seen it before.
I brought it with us into our bedroom and set in on my night stand next to the bed. That night I woke up and I got up to get some water. As I walked back into my bedroom I smelled something sweet, like a perfume. The scent was familiar, but I couldn’t tell where I knew it from. As I got closer to my night stand to set down my water glass, the smell got stronger. I thought that maybe the smell was coming from the box, so I opened it up. Just as I had thought, the box had a perfume-like scent. This seemed to be getting weirder and weirder. I tried to go back to sleep, but I just kept on tossing and turning.
Finally after an hour or so, I fell asleep, but only to be awoken a short while later. I woke up suddenly with this eerie sense that someone was around me. I opened my eyes and looked around, carefully, almost afraid to find someone. I didn’t see anyone, but I did see that the box that was closed earlier was now open. I hadn’t opened it. After this, I had even more trouble sleeping.
The next morning, when I woke, I slowly got up, stretching while getting my eyes adjusted to the light. My husband was already awake. I looked at the small box on my night stand, and it was once again closed. After last night, I couldn’t help but wonder about this foreign box even more. It could have been my mind, or it could have been real.
My husband and I went on like this for a few months, never figuring out what this box’s story was, but around December next year, we were looking through old family albums. I saw a picture of my great-grandmother sitting in her living room with me as a baby. The little woven box sat on the coffee table in front of her. The box kept on reappearing in pictures of my great-grandmother—the very last one being a picture of her funeral. The box sat on a small table with some other objects and photos that reminded us of my great-grandmother. I finally realized what this box’s story was. I also knew why that scent had been so familiar and yet so vague.
Now, I have the little brown box sitting on a table in our living room, along with some photos of my great-grandmother and other deceased relatives. Now I know that my great-grandmother’s spirit is always with me. I always keep it open, as a way of letting her spirit be free.
So, what do you think??
