Writing Prompts Week #23– June 4th, 2020

This week’s prompt:

A person who did something bad a long time ago, a safety deposit box, a candle

Adrian thought it was lost. Almost everything else had been. He set the candle down on what may have once been a table and brushed away some dust and dirt from the faceplate. The number was right. He pulled out the key he kept around his neck and checked. The numbers matched.

After so long, would it even still be there? He found his hands shaking a little. The key scraped and ticked against the lock, unable to find its way home at first. Finally, it slid into place and he twisted it. Nothing happened. He twisted harder, using all of his supernatural strength to force the old tumblers to move. The metal cut into his skin and gave under the pressure. Twisting like a screw, the key warped and broke, leaving him with a jagged piece of metal and a lock with no way to open it.

Rage filled him and he slammed his fists against the bank of boxes causing a small shower of dirt, plaster and stones to rain down on him, dislodging the candle from its perch and sending it rolling across the tiles. What little light it gave sputtered out, and the world became dark and still once again.

He was so close; he was not giving up so easily. He picked up one of the larger chunks of concrete and hit the metal faceplate as hard as he could. The makeshift hammer disintegrated with the force, but the metal on the front of the box had deformed slightly.

He found another, larger piece and tried the same thing. Again, the dent became larger, but there was still no way to get his fingers around it. A third time yielded no useful results. He felt around in the dark for anything else he could use. Supernatural strength and speed were great, but they did you no good if you could not get a hold of something. Physics had not changed with the tearing of the veil. Well, not much. As far as he knew.

His hand closed on something round, long, and metal. Rebar from the destroyed vault wall, perhaps. It would do.

Adrian wedged the metal into the small gap created by the damage to the front of the box and used it as a leaver to force the door off its hinges. He really was impressed with the workmanship. The very building around it had been destroyed, but he was sweating and bleeding trying to open one box. Had it been anything even remotely less valuable he would have given up.

The door yielded with a shriek and a thunk as it hit the floor. He hurriedly pulled out the inner container and looked to see if his prize was still intact.

He lifted the doll out. Its soft brown eyes stared up at him. The soul within still shining through.

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