by Darmon Richter

Created on: January 24, 2011

Was that a movement? It was hard to tell whether the curtain had twitched, or if it was just the breeze. When the show had finished the crowd of children dispersed, leaving with parents, or running down the beach to skip in and out of the ebbing tide. Charlie had stayed though, and waiting patiently, he hadn’t once taken his eyes off the faded box that stood alone on the empty beach.

    “Come look at this, Charlie!”

Libby had found a hermit crab, and his mother was trying hard to get his attention.

    “Charlieee!” called his sister from further down the beach, giggling as she chased little fish around the rock pools.

Charlie didn’t move. He just remained in the same position, back upright, chin resting on his fists, cross-legged in the sand. Why had no-one else noticed? The show had finished, the curtain come down. But where was the puppeteer? For forty minutes nothing had happened. No-one had come out of the peculiar wooden box. Where was the magician behind the curtain?

Risking just a quick glance, Charlie checked behind him. His mother and sister were a good distance away now, completely engrossed in the little creatures and fishes hiding under the rocks down by the shore. This was his chance.

As Charlie edged tentatively forwards, the box began to take on new, sinister qualities. Barely bigger than an upright coffin, the wooden panels were covered in faded patterns, illegible script. Flakes of red and blue paint lay on the white sand, peeling and falling from the box like skin from rotten fruit. As he slowly came closer, never once did Charlie take his eyes off the red velvet curtain that hung over the opening.

Reaching out his hand, slowly and carefully as if offering food to a dangerous animal, Charlie let his palm rest on the wooden boards, where knots and wrinkles stood out in the gaps where paint had faded or chipped away.

Rising on tiptoe so that his eyes were level with the velvet curtain, Charlie held his breath. The fabric was old, heavy with dust and incense. His hand trembled as he reached out to touch it… but he bit his lip, and waited one, two, three seconds, before sweeping the curtain aside and peering into the shadows.

The box was empty.

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