Robert Thackeray, aged 11

The Box of Mirrors

It was still now, but not silent. On the deck lay a long box of wine-red wood, studded with tiny, tarnished mirrors. From within came a soft but insistent knocking.

The crew stood around the box and listened. Nobody knew what it was and no one could open the huge steel locks sealing the box. The knocking stopped and the Captain shouted, “It’s bad luck, I tell you”. He pointed to the Boatswain, “You, lock it in the hold will you”. The crew reported to their cabins and the Boatswain locked away the box.

It was 11 ‘o’ clock and everyone was asleep. The cabin boy snuck down into the hold. He slipped a nail out of his pocket and swirled it around inside the bulky padlock. It clicked and he pulled off the lock. He then cracked open the inset steel keyhole. Each mirror flipped up and the brass hinges started to creek as the cabin boy lifted the lid up. He let out a scream that woke everyone on the ship.

The Captain lifted the corpse of the cabin boy through the narrow wooden door. Nobody spoke as his body was passed along and dropped into the water. The Captain pulled the open padlock from his breast pocket and shouted, “It’s out!”

The crew broke off into small groups to search for the creature. The Boatswain saw a smudge speed past him and crash into some barrels of rum. The dark liquid poured from a barrel and ran down to his feet. The Boatswain walked over to the barrels and knelt down to rummage through the barrels, pots and pans in the kitchen. He felt a sharp object on his shoulder, like a claw. The Boatswain gripped a pan tightly and swung across to hit the creature. The pan stopped and the Boatswain turned his head to see a small, black, bony creature with sharp teeth and dark purple eyes. It had grabbed the pan and pulled it from the Boatswain. It’s slits for a nose widened and it lifted up the pan. It swung the pan and hit the Boatswain, making a loud crash. The creature ripped a chunk of flesh from the Boatswains arm with his sharp, jagged teeth and jumped up onto a barrel. The Boatswain was stuffed into the barrel, hidden.

When the crew arrived in the kitchen, the Boatswain was nowhere to be found. A storm brewed outside and the old wooden door with rope hinges opened. The wind howled through the kitchen and the waves crashed against the sides of the ship. The Captain turned and ordered, “Check the room!” The first mate crept down the wooden steps to the forbidden cabin far below the other cabins. The oil lamp flickered and lit the dark, wet room. The many cages stacked up at the sides rustled as strange creatures moved about in them. The first mate charged up the stairs to his shipmates to tell them about the hole in the side of the boat.

The Captain stared out of the huge hole. He roared, “Ward, Watson, Peaves and Lark. Get the boat fixed.” The Captain stormed off to bed. The four men started to nail on the wooden planks. They were frightened to death and the waves were getting higher. The water rushed in and washed away the steps to the door. The water rose further and the four men sank down and through the unfinished hole.

The Captain opened his eyes and sat up. He pulled back the sheets and stepped into a shallow lake of water. Confused, he walked out onto the deck. The wood was creaking and the box was on the deck. The black creature sat, cross-legged, on the top of the box. The Captain drew his sword from its scabbard hung on the handles of the door. He swung it fiercely at the creature, who jumped off the box and onto the nape of the Captains neck. The creature wrapped his arm around the Captain’s neck and began to squeeze. The Captain gasped for air as the pressure tightened on his windpipe. The Captain fell to the deck, his face pale, the water surrounding him. The creature crept back into the box and slowly closed the lid.

The local tradesman walked down to the shore. After a storm like the previous night there were always things washed up that he could sell. He approached the box cautiously, walking right around it to check for any damage. He tried to open it, but the lid wouldn’t budge and the large bulky padlock was sealing the box tight. He tried to lift it but found it too heavy, even for a big man like himself. The tradesman dragged the long box made of wine red wood across the beach and through the trees to the village.

It was morning and the sun was just appearing over the horizon, glinting on top of the water. The first boat arrived at the dock, ready for the early morning trade. The man stood with his collection of goods as the boat’s Captain approached him. The sun reflected off the tiny mirrors on the box and caught the Captains eye, “what’s in the box, my friend?” he asked. The man shrugged his shoulders and said, “I’ve not been able to open it, but it is heavy so it must be something of value”. The Captain considered this for a moment and then offered to trade with the man.

As the tradesman returned to the village, he looked around to see the boat leaving the dock. Later that evening a fierce storm raged over the ocean. The trade ship had survived the turbulent weather but the Captain felt uneasy as he approached his crew on deck. On the deck lay a long box of wine-red wood, studded with tiny, tarnished mirrors. From within came a soft but insistent knocking.

Robert Thackeray