The Secret Box

A letter in a box kept inside the wooden panel behind a little girl's bed.

Dear Wendy,

 

I know you’re surprised to see a piece of paper along with your trinkets inside your secret box.

The Royal Possessions as you call them - the seashell bracelet you braided on the beachside, the wooden ring you picked up when your Daddy cut down the mango tree on the backyard, your favorite doll your Mommy gave you on your sixth birthday, the brass coin you found under the table in the cellar that you believed could stop time by flipping it twice in a row, the green rock that turns a different color - blue for yes and yellow for no - when you rub it, and the blade that gave you your first wound just above your left brow. But don’t worry, Wendy. I assure you, your secret box remains a secret from the day you kept it.

It’s important that you hear my story and you need to understand it completely. I’m relying on you to help me, Wendy.

 

I met Shawn at a single’s club in the Recreational Palace of the Sogo Hotel along the Aurora Boulevard. He was a foot taller than me, had brown skin, and had straight fine black hair that didn’t really need to be combed. His dark brown eyes that always looked weary could be piercing if he wanted them to. His strong eyebrows with its sharp peaks could express his emotions easily, and his high cheekbones complemented his delicate jaw.

He rarely smiled though, but when he did, you could never find such a beautiful smile. I could only wish he would always smile.

Shawn worked as a pattern maker at the Mystical Knots Apparel. He told me the patterns were meant for mainstream brands like Banana Republic, Blue Navy, and Bench - my seven-year old daughter Wanda’s and my favorite brands.

Shawn kept to himself, but admitted it takes time for him to warm up to someone, which was a pity since he was bright and charming. He rarely spoke and was always cautious of his words, careful not to offend someone - the reason for his shyness, which I found endearing. So he just listened.

I told him about my lovely Wanda - that she would wake up early every morning to help me cook breakfast, that she liked her eggs over easy, that she would laugh silly in simple things just like me, and that she loved cats.

I told him about my husband, Sam, and how he died in the car accident when Wanda was just six. I told him how hard it was for me to lose someone I loved, and that I would do everything not to lose someone again. I told him my favorite color was green. And when he asked why, I told him the most self-centered answer I ever said. I said, “Green looks good on me.”

 

In time, Shawn started to open up. He told me his wife cheated on him. He caught them in their own bed - the bed he shared with her, the bed where they both slept in every night, the bed where they made love.

He told me how spiteful she had been even after being caught in the act. He told me how she’d get him and take everything he had. He told me about the nasty phone calls in the middle of the night, the sick e-mails and text messages, and the vandalism his wife wrought - he was forced to sell his car, its tires puncture with long nails and the paint job scratched with a key, and took the subway instead to go to work everyday.

He told me how she made him angry; angry with her, with himself, and with everyone and everything.

 

We dated a few more times, a few more months, and when I felt it was time for the next stage, I asked him to move in with us.

I was really happy when he agreed to move in. I felt so complete for the very first time since I lost Sam. I felt that my family was whole once again.

I missed having a man in the house. I missed having a shoulder to lean on when I watch TV. I missed having my hair stroked when I’m about to sleep. I missed having my face kissed in the morning when I wake up. I missed being kissed.

It wasn’t hard for Wanda to get along with Shawn. I was anxious at first that Wanda wouldn’t like him at all. I imagined her screaming at him that he’ll never take the place of her Daddy no matter what. But this fear turned out to be just the fear of a desperate woman wanting to make everything right…everything perfect.

When I saw them together, my anxiety faded away. They get along really well. One might think they were indeed father and daughter. And the way he treated Wanda - how he made her laugh, how he made her feel special - I knew Shawn love both of us.

 

It went well for us for a whole year.

Then one night, Shawn went home late. I asked him what was wrong. He was more silent than usual, just sitting on the green couch, and staring down the living room floor. I really hated when he scowl.

He looked somber and lost, just like the first time we met when he was still submerged within the lunacy his wife’s betrayal caused him. I was afraid he wouldn’t tell me the truth and also afraid of knowing the truth.

Shawn said his ex-wife called him in the office early that day. She told him she saw him with me and Wanda the other day while we went walking in the park. She told him that he was never a good husband, nor could he ever be a good father. She told him he was useless, and the world would be better off without him.

Shawn reached out his back, pulled out a gun and rested it on his leg. He said he shot his ex-wife.

I tried to console him. I said everything would be all right and it was all an accident even as the truth slowly dawned on me. The fear of the desperate woman once again emerged.

He told me no and maybe his ex-wife was right. He stretched his right hand and pointed the gun at me.

I knelt down in front of him, begging for my life, pleading for his mercy. I cried and told him that I love him. I love him so much that I would do everything for him. Don’t shoot me, I cried. Please.

Then I heard Wanda stepped out of her room and called out to me. I turned around and looked at her to tell her that everything’s fine, that she should get back to sleep.

Then the sound of the gunshot deafened my ears.

 

I wrote you this letter to let you know that I made a wrong decision. That you’re reading this letter now only proves this. You may be wondering why I’m telling you my story. And who I really am. Indeed, you know me already. No one else in this world knows that you kept a secret box inside the wood panel of the wall behind your bed except you.

I added a few things in our secret box; the wedding rings Sam and I wore, Wanda’s first fallen tooth that she kept under her pillow for the tooth fairy, a lock of Wanda’s hair from her first haircut, and the bullet taken out of her head.

I rely on you, Wendy, never to place the bullet that took Wanda’s life inside our secret box again.

 

Love,

Wendy

 

 

The End

Reviews

[PokemonFan#1]

Gaaa! So sad!! It made me start to cry when I read Wanda was the one who was shot.....awww....may she rest in peace (even if she is fictional).

Such an amazing write!
Keep it up!

[Norma M Sutton]

Heck of a twist to that one.

[Bailey B.]

Oh wow this is amazing! I love it! Especially how she's writing the letter to herself. Plz keep writing!

[that-little-green-monst..]

I love this poem so much! It's so sad how her daughter dies and I love how you have her writing a letter to herself. Great job!

[Amelia]

Thank you Taylor for read requesting it to me. I loved the way this story was wirtten and the character development throughout the whole piece. Keep up the good work :)

[S. Michael Long]

oh i adore this (: i love how its has relationship transitions and secrets and stories that go with the secrets! I really really really like this.. attention all readers! this is how to write a short story! brilliant! -s

I loved this, thank you to Taylor for read requesting it to me. I had to read the last paragraph multiple times and still it confused me - in a good way. It seems to me that she's taken on a split personality to replace the loss of Wanda. What really interested me is the foreshadowing of the line "But don’t worry, Wendy. I assure you, your secret box remains a secret from the day you kept it." It's not blatantly obvious what it means, but it's also blatantly obvious after you find out she is writing the letter herself, to herself. It could also mean something else completely, maybe in truth the person writing the letter is really Shawn? He himself could be replacing Wanda and Wendy, since we don't know really what happened afterwards. Or maybe it's Sam? dealing with the death of an obviously close friend by, as I said before, could lead to a creation of a split personality. Very good job here!

[Taylor H.]

This was a fantastic write. I enjoyed the whole thing and I thought it was very original :) Keep up the good work. I hope you write like this all the time.

[Wendy Seames Garner]

This was pretty weird for me to read, as my name is Wendy. She is putting the bullet taken out of Wanda's head into the secret box, but wants to be assured that the bullet that took Wanda's life isn't put inside the box again. Were there two bullets? Has she just gone crazy? Am I missing something?

[bba]

There's only one bullet. Wendy was writing to her past self. XD

[Wendy Seames Garner]

Thanks!

[Susanna F]

This is so heartrending, yet beautifully written! The similarity of the names Wendy and Wanda really confused me for a minute, I had to reread the whole thing because of that. But otherwise, very well done.