There was a whisper of unspoken adventure in the subdued sweet browns, the lid inviting its opening. I wondered if all hearts could hear it or if it awaited the right one. Either way, it was the adventure I'd been seeking.
The box was a sort of laundry trunk, yet it looked for all the world as if it belonged to a seafaring pirate and had spent many decades in free-spun briny air.
The box was a mini treasure chest by design, and in Annabella's imagination it was a Mary Poppins sort of thing, an ever-giving portal into a dimension of inventions.
The box had a thousand butterflies made of a strong and shiny metal, and behind only a few were key holes. It appeared that the box opened not in one place but many, and the place of opening changed the perception of the contents. So, thought Sophia, finding the right key matters.
The box changed its contents depending on the opener, for it sensed their emotions and intensions, not giving them what they wished for but what an intelligent universe thought best for themselves and the rest of creation. Yet it was more complex than that, for it gave its control to the dark force when humanity was destined to destroy creation and to the light force when humanity was destined to save creation and each other. But who could change this destiny? Who could shift the moral compass of humanity and win the allegiance of the box?