The Balance
Rick McQuiston
“What's inside?”
Sammy asked, his beady little eyes fixed on the center of attention situated on
a small pedestal between the three boys.
Ian put a hand on
his friend Sammy's shoulder. “I bet you there's nothing in it,” he said,
residual crumbs from his afternoon snack trickling down his chin like tiny
boulders. “Probably found it at a garage sale.”
Justin sneered at the other two boys.
“No, I didn't get
it at a garage sale,” he said with a trace of annoyance in his voice. “My dad
gave it to me before he died, and his dad before him, and his dad before him,
right on down the line.”
“I call baloney,”
Ian snapped. “It just looks like a box with some weird carvings on it.”
“It is.”
“So what's inside
it then?”
“I don't know.”
“What do ya mean
you don't know?”
“I haven't looked
inside.”
The air in the
room thickened. The only sound was the rapid heartbeat in Justin's chest. He
remembered once hearing his parents talking about the box. He was only a little
kid then and happened to be playing near the bedroom window. It was cracked
open a few inches so he was able to hear what they were saying.
Denise, we can't tell anyone.
I know that,
but can't we at least lock it up better?
No. If it
suspects anything it'll open all the way, and that wouldn't be good. It's best
to keep it as it is. It only lets out a trickle of its contents, just enough to
balance everything in the world.
His parent's
words always stayed with him, but now here he was, ready to open the box for
the first time.
Both Sammy and
Ian took a step back. They had sensed something evil, something scathing hot
and yet numbing cold at the same time.
A shadow grew
outside the window. It was bipedal, 6 feet tall, 6 feet wide, and 6 feet thick,
a huge conception of the unholy number of the Beast.
It swayed there a
moment, perhaps two, before stretching out a hair-thin filament that inched
forward, eventually drilling a minute hole in the window's glass. The tendril
then entered the room seamlessly and spiraled through the dank air in an
unwavering trajectory, heading straight for the three boys standing around its
intended destination.
“Well, let's have
a look?” Justin blurted out, surprised at his own words.
It
only lets out a trickle of its contents...
He reached out a hand.
just enough to balance everything in the
world.
He felt the icy heat, the frigid
inferno, the frozen warmth touch his fingertips.
It was then, at
that exact moment, when he noticed two things simultaneously: the lid on the
box was slightly ajar, just an inch, no more, no less, and the winding
tentacle, so thin as to be barely perceptible, distinguishable solely from the
contrast it created from its movement.
All three boys
were rooted where they stood, too afraid to move. They were hypnotized by the
gentle yet determined journey of the tentacle.
The tentacle
reached the box quickly. It brushed up against it, gently prodding the edge,
shuddering with anticipation, slipping beneath it, and with one violent
movement, exposed its interior to the world.
A wave of black
gushed out of the box, an unyielding shade that swallowed everything it touched.
It swallowed the three boys in a flash, growing fat with each morsel, and soon
spilled across the room, leaving nothing untouched, nothing uneaten.
The shadow
outside smiled, a thin slit stretched from one side of its head to the other.
It had grown dissatisfied with the slow, controlled release of evil into the
world, the result of an agreement with the forces of good, and now it wanted
more. Now the balance would not be even anymore. Now it would be in favor of
chaos.
The shadow spun
around on cloven hooves away from the house as a pair of large curved horns
sprouted from its head.