My Pandora's box
I've been warned. Time and time again people have told me to stay away, to leave it be, but I just didn't listen to them. I was so stupid. I let temptation over take my common sense and now I have to deal with the consequences.
As I crept towards the giant wooden doors facing me, the stench of disappointment reached me from my parents cowering down stairs, afraid of what might be unleashed in my attempt to tidy up. Finally, the devil on my shoulder got the better of me and I opened the terrifying doors towering over me.
Suddenly bats surrounded me and an avalanche of dust collapsed onto me. Guilt set in and as I struggled to contain the destruction in my room, thousands of long forgotten secrets continuously smashed out of their casing and into the midst of my bedroom. What have I done?
I peer into the deepest depths of the thing facing me and reluctantly take in its contents. Years of clothes hide inside, unwilling to be found, preferring the crushing sensation of winter coats and long dresses than the pain of meeting my brothers' dirt ridden socks in the washing machine. I suppose the hundreds of coat hangers dangling above me aren't fans of irony as they stare miserably at the piles of memories lying under their judgmental gaze. Even I am shocked as I witness the horror unveiling before my eyes.
Clothes presumed lost, huddle together, terrified of the unusual light of my room; stacks of old games grieve for missing pieces and trodden remotes wonder about their inevitable fate; jewellery sprawls across the shelf, keeping bad company with old hair products; teddy bears stare with glassy eyes; makeup explosions set fire to the wood; shoes hidden by my baboon- brothers on infamous April Fool Days past smirk knowingly and thousands of beads lie scattered in the aftermath of my last escape from a tidying expedition.
Just as I think the misery is over the most despicable thing is uncovered…it smells as if everything bad in the world has been released and I have to cover my face with shock…a half eaten apple slowly rotting in the bottom corner of what is surely the most petrifying wooden box in all existence.
This is why I shouldn't tidy. I'm just too afraid of what I might find next time I open:
My Pandora's Box.
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