The Thing in the Box

At the foot of my bed is a box that my father once gave me. It was the only possession that he ever entrusted me with. He had it engraved with my name and told me that it would protect me.

I never understood until the day someone broke into my house and had snuck upstairs to my bedroom. However, he didn't get far, or so I discovered. His corpse was charred, burnt beyond recognition, yet nothing was singed.

I heard the fading sound of cold laughter vibrate from the box. Fears broke from my chest.

I live in fear.