No Peeking
by Michael Shimek
Annette
Lucas acquired the gift by accident. Out shopping for the upcoming holiday, she
decided to stop at one of the local stores that offered a gift-wrapping
service. Working as a single mother of two was busy and hard work; it was
easier to pay someone to wrap the many gifts for her children—it had been a
good year. She picked up some diamond earrings at a neighboring jewelry store
while waiting (to treat herself), and when she returned to pick up her newly
wrapped gifts, an extra one had found its way into her pile. The square box
that was roughly the size of an adult human head went unnoticed until she
dumped the presents under her family's Christmas tree.
Andy
waited until his mother was occupied with cooking dinner before approaching the
enticing display of mysterious goodies. There were so many of them. His eyes
were wide and his grin was strong. Christmas was still a week away, too far for
his curious mind. He wanted to know what was under those boxes that glittered
like candy; he needed to know.
A
little peek. His mother would never know.
Little
fingers wriggled around the colorful presents, presents for him and his brother.
There were so many; it was hard to choose where to start. A rustling in the
corner gathered his complete attention.
One
of the boxes moved. Near the back of the tree, where some spotty and uneven
branches were pushed against the corner of the house so guests couldn't see the
slight deformity, one of the twelve boxes rattled with life. It was a smaller
box covered in red wrapping paper and tied with a white bow. A low grumble
resembling a hungry animal scratched at the sides. A dull, orange light seeped
from opened seams in the paper. The shaking and light lasted a couple of
seconds before everything stopped and the gift lay still.
He
crouched under the tree to get a closer look when it happened again. He just
about jumped out of his skin when he heard yelling from the kitchen.
"You
stay away from those presents, Andrew!"
"But
Mom! One of them—"
"No
ifs, ands, or buts! If I see that any of those gifts have been touched, you
won't be getting a single thing for Christmas! No peeking!"
The
shouting from the kitchen ceased and his mother's singing (she always sang with
the radio when she cooked) and a blender's whir resumed. Andy was left alone in
the living room; a twinkling pine tree guarding a treasure trove of festively
wrapped boxes towered before him. Everything was decorated with spirit for the
holiday: tinsel, lights, fake snow, green and red bows and ribbons on
everything. The sight would have brought a smile to any child's face.
Andy
was not smiling, not anymore. In fact, his bottom lip quivered with fear.
He
couldn't move. Whatever was in the box did not sound like a toy; it sounded alive, and it did not sound like a nice
puppy that wanted to play and be friends. If he tried to show it to his mother
now, she would scold him from trying to take a gander under the wrapping paper.
Andy waited another moment before standing up from under the tree. The six-year-old
walked up to his bedroom to play with his toys.
He
would tell his older brother about the frightening experience when he got back
from school. Eli would know what to do. Eli always knew what to do.
#
"Later,
boogerbrains! See you at school tomorrow!" Eli waved goodbye to his friend
and entered his home.
He
threw his bag against the wall and kicked his shoes into the closet. His mother
was cooking something delicious in the kitchen, and, to his excitement, an
undergrowth of boxes containing head-scratching presents had sprouted under the
Christmas tree. His eyes went wide and his fingers twitched with anticipation
as he advanced on the tree.
"Psst,
Eli." Eli's head swiveled toward the source of the voice. He saw his
younger brother's head poking from above the top of the stairs. "Don't go
over there."
"What?"
He could barely hear Andy's words. "Come down hear; I can't hear
you."
Andy
shook his head. "No, you come up here."
Eli
sighed but followed his brother's orders. He slugged Andy's shoulder for making
him trudge up the stairs. "I'm here, now what do you want?"
"Don't
go near the gifts," Andy said, rubbing his shoulder.
"I
just wanted take a little peek. Why, you going to tell?"
"No.
I wanted to, too, but one of them..."
Eli
waited for his brother to continue, but his eyes only wandered down the stairs
and toward the tree. "Well, spit it out."
Andy
narrowed in back at his brother. "Something is wrong with one of the gifts,
the red and white one in the back corner."
"What's
wrong with it?"
Andy's
lips trembled with his words. "I don't want to talk about it anymore.
Promise you won't go near it, though. Promise?"
"Not
until you tell me why."
"There's
a monster in it, okay!" Andy burst into sobs and ran into his room,
leaving Eli standing alone at the top of the stairs.
He
was about to run after his brother, but he thought against it. What he really
wanted to do was look at the box containing the gift-wrapped
"monster." He was three years older than Andy, and he knew monsters
didn't exist. He would prove there was nothing to worry about by sneaking a
look under the wrapping and then gloating in front of his brother.
Eli
used the friction from his socks and slid down the small wooden ledge that ran
along the bottom of the banister. He hopped off at the bottom and skidded on
the ground until he came to halt in front of the tree. He glanced around, but
his mother's clinking of kitchenware and off-pitch singing drowned out his up
to no good actions. A smile crept along his face as he eyed the neatly wrapped
presents.
The
red and white one was barely visible, hiding under the thick greenery and sparkling
ornaments. Pine needles sticky with sap clung to his hands and pants as he
crouched down and crawled under the tree. He stopped when he was face to face
with the gift his brother had described.
It
looked perfectly normal to him, like any other present he had seen. He reached
out to flip open a seam when his finger scrapped the side.
The
box rattled.
Eli
let out a little yelp; his mother was making too much of a ruckus to hear. He
covered his mouth and stared at the box.
The
gift shivered. It floated off the carpet, and an electric orange light seeped
from cracks in the wrapping paper. The white bow on top unraveled and the
ribbon drifted to the floor. The box turned clockwise in the air until one of
the taped sides faced him. As the flaps peeled open and pulsed an increasingly
brighter orange, Eli opened his mouth to scream.
#
After
he had run crying to his bedroom, Andy had tiptoed back to the top of the steps
to spy on Eli; he had a feeling his stubborn brother wouldn't heed his warning.
He lay down on his belly and watched the scene unfold from the top floor of the
house.
His
brother's scream was cut off in mid screech, barely even a scream at all (and
their mother's singing down in the kitchen dominated all noises anyway). The
severity of the situation hit Andy when he saw Eli's legs poking out from under
the tree get sucked up like two wriggling sticks in a vacuum.
Andy
launched himself from the floor and stumbled down the stairs. He dove to the
needle-infested floor and reached out to save his brother.
He
was too late; the gift had opened. Throbbing flesh lined the inside of the box
like the inside of a throat. The tunnel ended in an orange material that
twisted and rippled with tangible light. The last of his brother, part of his
leg and a shoe, dissolved into the growling and swirling mass. Andy screamed
and scooted away, but the box zeroed in on him.
He
made it out from under the Christmas tree when he felt something tight wrap
around his feet. The look of his horrified mother was the last image he saw
before falling and the world grew dark.
#
Between
the radio, blender, and her singing, an extra chorus of screams from the living
room invaded Annette's ears. If she didn't know any better, it sounded like one
of her kids was near the Christmas tree, which meant one of her kids was trying
to sneak a peek at their presents. Maybe, to set an example, she would take one
of the presents away (she would eventually give it to them on Christmas Day;
she wasn't that cruel).
She
went to investigate.
Annette
walked into the living as her youngest son slammed face-first onto the floor. A
white ribbon snaked around his ankles, reeling him in like caught fish. Andy
disappeared under the tree, a trail of blood leading to a rustling pine tree
decorated in twinkling accessories.
Her
son was gone.
"Andy!"
she screamed, running after her injured boy. She looked under the tree, but
there was no sign of him. Instead, she found something much more horrifying.
A
box in the back corner levitated off the ground and glowed a vicious orange. A
white ribbon danced around like fire, and one of the sides opened into a portal
to Hell; an awful, guttural noise spewed forth from the inside. There was no
sign of her baby, only the monster that ate him.
A
fit of rage erupted from Annette. Her hands flew to the ornaments on the tree,
and she began lobbing them as weapons; the demon gobbled them up like alligator
snapping up little birds out of the air. The white ribbon straightened with
life and shot at her like a striking snake. The fabric closed around her
throat, tightened, and pulled before she could react. She fell headfirst into
the open mouth of the box and dissolved into the orange light.
The
Lucas family was no more.
#
Miranda
Milligan picked the lock and entered the home. She could sense her precious pet
somewhere inside. Christmas music played from the kitchen, and something was on
the verge of burning in the oven. She hurried to the kitchen and turned off the
oven and radio; she didn't want to draw unwanted attention. After the house was
quiet, she located the Christmas tree and found her little one.
The
box was back in the corner, perfectly sealed in its crimson paper and white
ribbon. She picked it up, dusted off the pine needles on her pants she had
collected in the process, and cradled the gift in arms.
"Did
my baby find something to eat today?"
Orange
light radiated from the seams and the box shook in response.
"Not
enough? Well, don't you worry, there's always another family."
Miranda
exited the house with her box and walked back to her gift-wrapping shop.
END
