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"Sometimes the monsters are...you."

Your character is out and about, for what seems like a normal day, changes when you stumble on an old box that you just recognize to be your old toy as a kid, except it's glowing. What do you do?

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by cutie_bloom

Another day, I thought to myself. Sulking in the sombre mood of life– In desolation and distress; In despair and teeming forlorn; In the loneliness and grief; but mostly, in a moment with myself. I sighed and sat on my bed. Plugged in my earphones and was ready to do what I do best when suddenly my room door burst open.

"Aunt May!" I exclaimed, plugging back out my earphones as in came the person herself, with a box held at her side and with the indifferent face of her's. Not caring about anything... particularly me.

Typical.

"I need to get those stuffs you promised to gave up today," she said as she rummages around, taking and dropping a couple of my belongings into the box.

"Ugh! My space is my personal space, for once can't you just- wait!" I exclaimed again. Quickly entangling my feet from the bed sheets and marching up to her.

"Ava, you agreed to donate some of these stuffs to charity. The daycare is also needy and you need to be supportive," she pointed at me.

"I agreed to donate my useless toys. Not my headset and my earbuds that my dad gave me," I stated, reaching for the buds but she moved it out of my reach. I gave her a look at that.

"You're 16 Ava. I think it's time you start losing some of these stuffs," she objected, giving me a hard look as she placed the buds in the box.

My tongue prodded in my mouth as I stared at her. My anger riled up but with knowing it wasn't the worth, I restrained myself and instead took the box from her hands. "I'll do it instead," I calmly told her and she nodded her head to go so before walking out of the room.

I let out an exasperated sigh and took back out my earbuds, placing them on my dresser before I went and started packing.

After a few minutes packing the box, I got up, realizing I needed another one after looking at all the toys that I needed to get rid of.

When I was a child, I had a lot of toys. Maybe because my father was a historian/archeologist who specializes in the remains and history of ancient artifacts. And at times, any useless artifact he found he would usually give to me. Well that's how everything was. The perfect little life. Until the loss of both my parents.

My mom, died before I turned three– I hardly have any memories of her; and my father, leaving his last gift to me– I still live in grief of him. With them both gone, I've been living with my aunt. She was kind enough to be my provider, the one who at times see to my needs but often times, I felt alone. Trapped even, in whatever I couldn't get out of.

I decided to go up the attic for another box. It hasn't been encountered in a long time and probably dusty, but it was wiser than seeking problems with my aunt. I walked out the room and stopped by the stairs. Prising down the lever attached to the wall, I watched as the stair formed out the roof, giving me way up to the attic.

I climbed up to see cobwebs filling each corner, old boxes with unnecessary things packed to the side and a vast amount of dust covering every surface of the place. Bad enough that I began coughing uncontrollably. I took the cloth from around my head and wrapped it loosely around my nose. I might as well stash the junk out of a box and use it. It's better than asking my aunt anyway.

I went over to a secluded box in the corner and took it up. I looked in it to see a couple old stuffs– mostly old magazines, broken vases and other junks. I went to a next box and began throwing everything into it before I stopped in hearing a heavy thud, catching my attention. My brows narrowed in when I saw a giant book laying amidst everything. I set the box down and took it up, brushing off the dust covering it before examining it thoroughly. The book had an eerie look to it– the feel of moss disgustingly sliding under my touch from the texture of it's cover, printed with a big T in the middle. I opened it to see it was merely, a journal. A very unusual journal with it's pages messily scribbled in a language I couldn't quite decipher– to which got me confused; and filled with multiple sketches.

My interest peaked when I saw an inked drawing of a lady holding something that distinctly looked to be glowing in her hands. "Ves moi encha," I said, looking down on the words written beside the drawing along with a name that said Eva Sinclair.

I quickly closed the book when I heard my aunt calling me and knowing she would disapprove by where I was, I hastily put the book into the empty box and climbed back down from the attic.

"I'll be there with them," I called back and went into my room, closing the door shut. I began skimming the pages of the book, glancing at the multiple drawings and sketches. I suddenly froze on a page and closely looked at a sketch of an object that somehow looked familiar to me.

I immediately let out a yelp when I slipped on one of my toys, causing me to stumble over and crashed unto the wall. Something came tumbling down from the top shelf and out of irritation I bend to reach for whatever it is but stop in my tracks. It was my little treasure chest box that I used to play with as a child. But seeing the kept-away toy wasn't my surprise. The box was glowing– illuminating in an ominous bright green colour. I was a bit petrified by this, but still taking the risk of not knowing if it will cast some mystical spell on me, I picked it up and opened it.

My eyes widened to see my trinket, a snowflake trinket given to me by my father on my eleventh birthday. I'd always keep it close to me. It was the best and last gift he had given me. But to my astonishment it was the one glowing. Then realization hits me and quickly, I went back to the journal and saw it. The drawing of a glowing trinket similar to one I'm holding in my hand. I started to look back and forth from my Trinket to the drawing before I stepped back in confirmation. It was a drawing of my snowflake trinket, glowing in the said colour of my own. But why is there a drawing of my Trinket in the book?

I looked down on my Trinket as if it would provide me with an answer. But the only way to know is to uncover what this really was. I went to my drawer and pulled out the black string. After tying it through the hole on my trinket, I put it around my neck only to stop in action when the glowing suddenly dissipated.

Well...

I sat on my bed and began scrolling through the journal. There were diverse drawings of symbols, all showcasing around my Trinket. Drawings replicating in a clockwise manner as a significance around it. My brows furrowed as I leaned closer to have a better look. They'll somewhat looked to be representing something. Seemingly destructive. I looked back on the sketch lady clasping the glowing object in her hands that I now acknowledged, was attached to something going around her neck. I touched my Trinket realizing it was my Trinket she was clasping. The words beside her must have triggered the Trinket's glowing. I thought as I skipped to the next page filled with words written all over in circles.

"Word is power,

With it brings sorrow.

The spells and Calibre you gain,

This book shall be no longer again.

For the Trinket is what you seek,

With it, abilities you keep.

And as the sands of the desert shifts in time,

A great rest you shall indeed find.

That was at the top, though it was written in a different calligraphy from the others circled below. They'll looked quite undecipherable, likely written in ancient Greek or something but unlike the ones written above, being the only words in the book I understood to which brought an eerie but somewhat intriguing chill to me. A great rest you shall find, I thought. What could it mean?

I perused the words below and interpreted them as spells. Spells written in their own language; each having their own significance.

I guess. It was foretold in the book and I put two and two together so...

I looked on another section of the page and froze, not focusing on what the words said but mainly on the familiarity of the writing. I jumped out of bed and rushed down the stairs. Making my way passed a few boxes before I marched up to my aunt.

"What is my dad's handwriting doing in this book?" I questioned, brows creasing in as I showed her the handwriting.

"Where did you find that?" she quickly asked, not bothering to look at the book.

"In the attic," I replied coolly, even with knowing the consequences when her face hardened.

"And why were you in the atti-"

"That's not the point," I quickly said and gave her pointed look as I waited for her answer.

She kept her irritated look at me before turning around and going back in the box. "It belonged to your father. "You know he was a archeologist and he must've found that," she said before ignoring me then.

I nodded my head and looked down on the trinket around my neck before I took it off and held it in my hand. "You know Dad gave me this trinket," I said as I stared down at it. "Before the following week he died?" I looked up back at her staring down on the trinket in my hand. "There was a drawing of this trinket in the journal, what if-" I quickly stopped myself as something came to mind. Knowing my dad as a historian/archeologist, he'd always keep track of his artifacts. "Dad, his office... maybe he has collected some personal information on this-"

"No, I throw those away."

"What?" My eyes got wide and sharp, giving her an incredulous look.

She took a moment in silence before stating again. "I throw them away. I got rid of everything."

"All his work. His files and his information?" I bit down on my lips. "Aunt May how could you," I spat.

"Your father is dead and they were needed no more," she bluntly responded. "So go and pack the box now would you," she said, shooing me away.

I dug my nails into my unoccupied hand, feeling a great amount of rage coming in. But after coming to a conclusion, I released them; restraining myself. I instead walked away from her, looking back down in the book as I trotted up the stairs before I stopped after noticing the words my dad wrote. "Who is Eva Sinclair," I now asked myself. Seen the words a couple times already.

"What?" I heard my aunt asked. I turned around to find her staring at me. "What was that?" She asked again, dropping the vase in the box and now facing me.

I gave her a questioned look before glancing back down in the book and a couple letters separated- but looked to be just a word- caught my eyes. They intrigued me and I took a moment in pronouncing it before I looked up to my aunt demanding to see the book. But I got engrossed in learning it and in hearing her grossly demands, I choose to ignore her.

"En fin sues akelaa fi," I said before I jumped in hearing my aunt's sudden outburst. I stood shook at the fire that miraculously ablaze upon the curtains but also amazed seeing the blazing fire and my brows suggestively narrowed in as a thought came to mind, looking back down on the book.

"What the," she started, coming to a full realization to what just occurred before she turned to me with rage masking her face. "You little brat. Ugh!" She exclaimed, kicking a blocking box. "Give me that book!"

I watched her started making her way towards me, with irritation prominent on her face and hate glowering in her eyes. I was becoming tedious with this constant side of her's. And I could feel my hatred towards her pulsating. This was her usual reaction towards me whenever I'd make a mistake. And honestly, I was eminently tired of it. Of her and the way she had treated me.

She had always angered me in every way she could. But with knowing she was my aunt and the only person made me considered my actions at times. But this time, I wasn't backing down, I'm not gonna be a fool.

My lips twisted angrily as I looked for a spell in the book. The need to see her suffer in every way I did became overwhelming and in choosing one, I clasped my Trinket in my hand and said the words before she could take the next step towards me.

I looked at her struggling to pull the metal I cast around her mouth and in triumph, I smirked. I was intrigued by the superiority this had to offer. What I could do with it. In all my youths I've been cursed, antagonized, scrutinized, spat on; no more. Maybe it's time that people see me now- not as a brat; not as a helpless, hopeless girl who lost her parents but as someone who could do much more.

I stepped closer to my aunt May and smiled when she widened her eyes in fear at me.

"I think it's time that I, start running things around here," and with that I laughed, and walked to the door. Cause from now on, with the power of the trinket and with the words spoken from the journal, I became that girl who would no longer backed down from anyone!