Tabula Rasa

Staring at the empty space in disbelief, I gently lowered the lid and looked at all six sides of the container, ensuring it was the correct one. Slowly, I opened it once more, expecting it to be full of its previous contents, sure I had simply gone blind for a mere second. However, once more it was empty. It had gone. It wasn’t there. A single, cold drip of sweat formed on my forehead, a physical cue of my acute fear. “How strange…” I mused in a panicked, yet arguably collected way, “these four wooden walls were once home to something rather precious… Where the fuck has it gone?” I threw the barren vessel to the ground in a burst of adrenaline-fuelled rage and immediately tore the place apart. Every drawer, every shelf, every tiny nook and minuscule cranny I devoured with my hands, desperate to find those treasures once hidden. “This can’t be happening,” I thought, “not again… not AGAIN.” I pulled out my phone, drawing up a fellow comrade I knew had been stolen from before, and was bound to have tactics of brutal revenge to share. “Fuck,” I typed with haste, “Mum’s found my fucking porn again!”