The third box offered more resistance.
josh
The second I saw it, I knew that it was different to Box One and Box Two. It looked old.
“You look old.” I said to its worn out face. Of course, it did not reply. It simply sat there, looking old and distrusting. Rusting. It was also rusting.
With some elbow grease, expletives and downright brute force, I was able to enter its chasm.
The first thing I noticed was the sickly green pallor of its skin. I took a mental picture and then I took a knife to its throat. What unborn horrors could lie in Box Four?