Ethan Marshall had always found comfort in the quiet beaches near his small coastal town. The sands stretched endlessly, and the winds carried whispers that soothed his mind, far away from the noise and terror of his home life. The beach was his sanctuary, a place where the yelling stopped, and his father’s heavy hand couldn’t reach. Vernon Marshall, his father, was a man who ruled their house like a tyrant. Every day felt like walking on eggshells, where the smallest mistake could lead to punishment—whether it was a cruel, cutting remark or worse, the crack of his father’s belt.
Vernon was a bus driver, but that title did little to reveal the man he was behind closed doors. To the rest of the town, he was just another blue-collar worker, big and gruff but unremarkable. At home, however, he was a force to be feared. Ethan had learned long ago never to make eye contact, never to talk back, and above all, never to show weakness. His father despised weakness, and in his eyes, Ethan was nothing but a disappointment—soft, small, and far too quiet.
His mother, Linda, wasn’t much help. Once upon a time, she might have been different, but now, she seemed to live in another world, numbed by the years of Vernon’s rule. She spent most of her days in front of the TV, zoning out to the endless daytime soap operas and crime dramas, avoiding the reality of the life they shared. Linda had long since stopped trying to defend Ethan from Vernon’s rages, though he sometimes caught her watching him with a deep, silent sadness that made him feel even worse.
But out here, on the beach, none of that mattered. Here, it was just him and the sea. This was where he could escape into the stories he loved—where he wasn’t Ethan Marshall, a bullied twelve-year-old with an abusive father, but a hero of his own making. His favorite escape was always Battlestar Galactica. In his mind, he fought alongside Captain Apollo, a brave and noble warrior flying through the stars, battling Cylons and protecting humanity. Ethan lived for these moments, when the boundaries between reality and fantasy blurred, if only for a while.
It was on one such afternoon that Ethan’s life changed forever.
The wind whipped furiously that day, carrying grains of sand in swirling patterns across the shore like tiny storms rising from the earth. The sky above was a murky gray, threatening rain, but Ethan barely noticed. He wandered along the beach, his sneakers sinking into the wet sand with each step, his mind somewhere far beyond Earth. In his head, he was flying through the stars, dodging enemy fire in a Colonial Viper, fighting alongside Captain Apollo. He barely registered the jagged rocks or the jagged shells scattered at his feet. Then something unusual caught his eye—a small, faint glint of green amidst the monotony of browns and grays. It was subtle, barely noticeable at first, peeking out from beneath a tangled clump of seaweed and a cluster of broken shells.
Ethan slowed, his heart quickening with a sudden sense of curiosity. He crouched down, his fingers hesitantly reaching toward the strange object. Brushing aside the wet, slimy strands of seaweed, he revealed more of it—a corner of smooth green stone, shimmering faintly even in the overcast light. His brow furrowed in confusion. This wasn’t the usual beach debris, like bits of driftwood or shards of glass smoothed by the sea. It wasn’t metal or plastic either, like the occasional piece of garbage washed up by the tides. No, this was something else entirely. His fingers closed around it, and immediately, he felt a chill—a coldness that seemed to radiate from the stone despite the warmth of the day.
He pulled the object free, shaking off the last clinging bits of sand and saltwater. It was small, no bigger than a hardcover book, but surprisingly heavy in his hands. A rectangular box, made of deep green jade, its surface so polished and smooth it looked almost wet. As Ethan turned it over, he noticed strange markings carved into the stone—delicate, intricate lines that twisted and curled in patterns he didn’t recognize. They reminded him of the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs he’d once seen in a documentary, but these were different—more fluid, more alive. The carvings seemed to pulse faintly, as though the stone itself was breathing under his touch. For a long moment, Ethan could only stare, mesmerized by the impossible object that now rested in his hands.
It felt as if the world around him had stilled. The wind seemed quieter, the distant crash of the waves muted, as though the jade box was drawing all attention to itself, demanding to be noticed. Ethan’s heartbeat quickened. His instincts told him to put it back, to leave it buried in the sand where he had found it, but his curiosity overpowered his caution. There was something about the box—something ancient, something powerful—that made him feel like it had been waiting for him.
Ethan glanced around the empty beach, half-expecting someone to appear, to tell him this was all a mistake—that he wasn’t supposed to have this. But the shoreline remained deserted. The only sound was the wind whipping across the sand and the distant crash of waves against the rocks. Alone, with only the strange jade box for company, Ethan knew there was no going back to his old life, not completely. He slipped the box into his backpack, its weight settling strangely, heavier than it looked.
After Ethan found the strange jade box on the beach, there was only one place he could think of taking it: Celluloid Heroes, Thom Christopher’s comic book and movie memorabilia shop. It was tucked away on the corner of Ashbury and 8th Street, the kind of place where you had to know it existed to find it. Most people walked right past without giving it a second glance, but for those like Ethan—kids who lived more in the worlds of comic books, vintage TV, and old sci-fi movies than in the real world—Celluloid Heroes was a treasure trove. The shop had been around for as long as Ethan could remember, a little haven for movie buffs and comic book collectors, and Thom, with his encyclopedic knowledge of pop culture, was practically a legend.
Ethan clutched the jade box tightly as he walked, his sneakers slapping against the cracked sidewalks of his neighborhood. He’d already been out for hours, wandering the beach, and now the familiar streets felt oddly empty. His father would be home soon, finishing up his bus route, and Ethan dreaded the thought of walking through the front door and facing him again. But right now, his mind was consumed with the mystery of the box. Something told him that Thom, with his wealth of obscure trivia and his deep dives into Hollywood lore, might know what it was. If anyone could explain its strange power, it would be Thom.
As he turned onto Ashbury Street, Celluloid Heroes came into view. The shop itself was nothing spectacular from the outside—a small, brick storefront sandwiched between a laundromat and an old diner that had seen better days. Faded posters covered the windows, some so sun-bleached that the colors were barely visible. In the front display window, Ethan spotted a life-size cardboard cutout of Flash Gordon next to a vintage Star Wars action figure set still in its original packaging. Movie posters lined the inside of the windows, too—classic B-movies like Invasion of the Body Snatchers and The Day the Earth Stood Still, their bold graphics pulling passersby into a world of monsters, aliens, and heroes.
The sign above the door, which hung slightly askew, read Celluloid Heroes in a retro font that looked like it belonged on a movie marquee from the 1950s. Below it, a smaller neon sign flickered, the words “Open” buzzing faintly in red. Ethan hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the jade box in his hands. There was a weight to it, both physical and emotional, that he couldn’t quite explain. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, the familiar brass bell jingling as he stepped inside.
The interior of the shop was just as he remembered—narrow aisles cluttered with old comic books, action figures, movie memorabilia, and VHS tapes that Thom swore he’d never sell. The air smelled of musty paper, mixed with the faint aroma of popcorn that always seemed to linger. Behind the counter, Thom Christopher was hunched over a box of old comic books, cataloging them with the care of an archivist. His salt-and-pepper hair, now more salt than pepper, looked disheveled, and his glasses sat crookedly on the bridge of his nose. When the bell rang, Thom looked up, a familiar smile on his face—until he saw what Ethan was holding.
“Hey, kid. What’s that you got there?” Thom’s voice, usually light and welcoming, had a strange note of caution in it now, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on the jade box.
Ethan approached the counter, feeling the weight of the box in his hands grow heavier with each step. “I found it on the beach,” he said, setting the box down carefully. “I thought maybe you’d know what it is.”
Thom’s face paled as he leaned over the counter, his hand hovering just above the box but not touching it. “Careful with that,” he whispered, his usual smile fading entirely. “I haven’t seen that thing in over twenty years.
Ethan looked from the box to Thom, his curiosity growing as he saw the sudden fear in the older man’s eyes. “Do you know what it is?” he asked, his voice quiet, unsure.
Thom took a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on the jade box as though it might spring to life at any moment. “Do I know what it is?” he repeated, shaking his head slightly. “Not exactly. Not in the way you’d think. But I’ve seen it before. This... thing was used on a show I worked on—Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, back in the '80s. We had it in an episode called ‘The Guardians.’ It was supposed to be a prop, something to add a little mystery to the plot. But it wasn’t just a prop.”
Ethan’s eyes widened. “So, it was from a TV show?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t made for TV. It was something else. Gil Gerard—he played Buck—found it tucked away in a storage room at Universal Studios. They were tearing down an old warehouse, and the thing had been sitting there for God knows how long. We all thought it was a cool find. The producer, John Mantley, decided to use it in the episode because it looked authentic. And it did the job—more than anyone expected.”
Thom leaned closer to the jade box, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if the walls themselves might be listening. “It had this... effect on us, kid. No one could explain it. At first, we just thought it was some old, creepy-looking prop. But then, strange things started happening. Real strange.”
He paused, eyes narrowing as the memories seemed to resurface. “We were filming the episode ‘The Guardians.’ It was your typical Buck Rogers plot—mysterious artifact, some ancient power Buck had to deal with. Nothing out of the ordinary for us. But in between takes, when things were quiet on set... that’s when it started.”
Thom hesitated, his fingers tracing the air just above the surface of the jade box, careful not to touch it. “I remember one afternoon during lunch, I was holding the box, just messing around, trying to kill time. I started thinking about those old silent film days—you know, the classic Westerns. I’d always been a fan of Tom Mix, the cowboy actor from back then. He was my hero growing up—tough, cool under pressure, the kind of guy who took on the bad guys without a second thought. As I sat there, just daydreaming about it... he appeared.”
Thom’s eyes locked onto Ethan’s, his expression deadly serious. “Not just a memory or a vision. I mean, he appeared. Full outfit—white hat, leather boots, spurs jingling, and his signature smile. It was like he’d walked straight off a silent film set and into the real world. He tipped his hat at me, and asked if I needed any help, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I sat there, stunned. I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. I blinked, and... he was gone. Just like that.”
Ethan’s pulse quickened as he tried to process what Thom was saying. “Did anyone else see him?”
Thom shook his head. “No, no one saw that. But after that day, everyone else started having their own... experiences. Jay Garner, who played Admiral Asimov, was rehearsing his lines with the box sitting on a prop table nearby. Out of nowhere, he claimed he saw an old girlfriend standing beside him, just as clear as you or me. She wasn’t just a memory—she was there. He said she smiled at him, like she had all those years ago, before they broke up. Jay was shaken for the rest of the day. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he avoided the box like the plague after that.”354Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNhG15qj8Iu
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Thom’s voice dropped lower, the weight of something stranger pressing on him. “And then there was the really weird part. You ever hear about the ‘Buck and the 7 Gnomes’ episode? ‘Shgoratchx,’ as it was officially called? It was a disaster. But here’s the thing—it shouldn’t exist. None of us remember filming it.”
Ethan frowned, confused. “How could there be an episode if no one filmed it?”
“That’s the thing,” Thom said, leaning in. “None of us remembered even reading a script for that episode. But one day, out of nowhere, we all get phone calls from Wilfred Hyde-White—he played Dr. Goodfellow, one of the smartest men I ever met. Hyde-White was... well, he was in a panic. Called each of us, told us to turn on our TVs. So, we did. And there it was, this bizarre episode—'Buck and the 7 Gnomes'—airing like it was just another regular broadcast. Full episode, with footage of us in it. But none of us—me, Gil, Erin, Jay—none of us had any memory of filming it. The studio had the footage, clear as day, with all of us acting in it like it was just another day on set.”
Ethan’s mouth dropped to the floor. “You’re saying it... just appeared?”
Thom nodded grimly. “Yeah. Like the box conjured it up out of thin air. Erin had been talking about her fear of dwarves just a week before, and suddenly we’re in this ridiculous episode fighting gnomes----played by midgets that nobody even remembered hiring! No one could explain it. The studio was confused, we were confused, but NBC wanted its ratings up, so they aired it anyway. It’s like that box reached into our heads and pulled something out. Something none of us wanted.”354Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzGdpedmBzk
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Ethan let out a bitter, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Wilma Deering, scared of gnomes? I didn’t think anything could scare her.”
Thom gave a dry, knowing smile but didn’t join in the laugh. His eyes darkened as he looked off into the distance, remembering. “You don’t know Erin like I did,” Thom said, his voice soft but serious. “Wilma Deering was tough as nails, sure, but Erin? She didn’t scare easily in real life either. But one day, she went pale as a ghost. We were in the middle of a scene, and suddenly, she just froze. When we asked her what was wrong, she said she saw... it.”
Ethan leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “What did she see?”
Thom’s expression darkened. “She saw the Vorvon—the Space Vampire from season one. She said it was standing in the shadows, watching her. She felt this coldness creep up behind her as if the Grim Reaper himself had walked onto the set. Erin didn’t spook easily, but that day... she wouldn’t go near the box again. She told me later she couldn’t shake the feeling that the box was watching her, reading her, knowing what she feared. That’s why she wouldn’t go near it again. Erin wasn’t scared of monsters or space battles, but something about that box got under her skin. It wasn’t just playing tricks. It was real. It pulled things out of her mind, things she didn’t want to face.”
Ethan’s grip on the counter tightened. “What about the guys behind the scenes? Did they have strange things happen to them?”
Thom nodded grimly, his eyes never leaving the jade box. “Not as such, but there were rumors and whispers among the crew. Some said the box belonged to a famous actor—Bela Lugosi, Lon Chaney, or Boris Karloff. It was tied to the golden age of horror, maybe even used in one of the old Universal monster movies. But no one could prove it. After Jay and Erin’s encounters, people started getting nervous. Mr. Larson---our executive producer---ordered the box locked up, figuring we’d finish the episode and be done with it.”
Thom leaned in even closer as if sharing the final secret. “But before that could happen, something else happened with Gil. One day, a deranged fan snuck onto the set with a knife. She came after Gil—out of nowhere, charging at him. Everyone panicked, no one knew what to do. But before she could reach him, there was a flash—a laser blast. It knocked the knife right out of her hand.”
Thom paused, swallowing hard. “And when the smoke cleared, Gil swore he saw... himself. A mirror image—dressed in his white Season 1 uniform, laser gun in hand, standing there just for a moment before disappearing. It saved his life. After that, we were all terrified of that box. It wasn’t just playing with our imaginations—it was doing things.”
Thom sighed, his face lined with tension as he continued. “The box vanished after season two ended. No one knows where it went, but some of us weren’t surprised. I thought I’d never see it again. But here it is.” He looked back up at Ethan, his expression grim. “You have no idea what kind of power you’re holding.”
After Thom finished recounting the bizarre stories of the jade box and its eerie influence on the Buck Rogers set, Ethan couldn’t shake the feeling that the mystery ran deeper than anyone knew. He glanced down at the box, its smooth jade surface glimmering faintly in the dim light of the shop. His mind raced with questions—questions Thom couldn’t seem to answer.
“There’s gotta be someone who knows what it is,” Ethan said, his voice quiet but insistent. “Where it came from, what it’s for...”
Thom sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as though the weight of those mysteries was still pressing down on him after all these years. “I thought the same thing back then,” he admitted. “After everything that happened on set, I needed answers. It wasn’t just a prop—it was something more, something with power. I tried asking around, looking for anyone who might have some clue about the box’s history. Most people just shrugged me off, but then someone mentioned Jon-Erik Hexum.”
Ethan furrowed his brow. “Jon-Erik Hexum? Phineas Bogg?”
“Yeah,” Thom said, nodding slowly. “He was a rising star in the '80s. Young, talented, charming. He was doing a lot of TV work back then—Voyagers! and later Cover-Up. Anyway, someone in the industry, I can’t remember who it was, told me Hexum knew about the box. They said he’d heard things, that he might even know its origins—where it came from, what it could do.”
Thom paused for a moment, the distant look in his eyes suggesting he was replaying the memories in his head. “I was curious, just like you are now. I tracked down his agent and reached out. We arranged a meeting—nothing big, just a casual conversation about some old TV props. But it was clear there was more to it. Jon-Erik hinted that he knew more than he was letting on, but he didn’t want to say anything over the phone. We were supposed to meet on set the next day to talk about it in person.”
Thom’s voice faltered, and he looked down at the counter, his fingers tapping absently on the surface. “But we never had that meeting.”
Ethan leaned in, his heart pounding. “What happened?”
Thom’s face grew grim, his voice barely above a whisper. “The day we were supposed to meet... Jon-Erik shot himself. He was fooling around on the set of Cover-Up, using a blank pistol, and somehow, the blast from the blank cartridge killed him. It was all over the news. They called it an accident. But that wasn’t the part that haunted me, kid.”
Thom swallowed hard; his eyes clouded with the weight of the memory. “What haunted me was the timing. Just hours before we were supposed to meet. I don’t know if it had anything to do with the box, but I always wondered. He’d said he had answers—something about where it came from, what it was. But whatever he knew about that box... it died with him.”
Ethan felt a chill run down his spine. The jade box seemed heavier now as if the air itself had thickened around it. “You think... it had something to do with him?”
Thom let out a slow breath, his eyes fixed on the box once more. “I don’t know, kid. I’ve spent years trying not to think about it. But after Jon-Erik died... I stopped looking for answers. Whatever this thing is, it’s dangerous. And I wouldn’t want anyone else getting hurt trying to figure it out.”
Ethan stared at the jade box, a million thoughts swirling in his head. “But... what do you think it is? I mean, you’ve seen what it can do. You must have some idea.”
Thom exhaled slowly, his gaze never leaving the box. “If I had to guess... and trust me, kid, this is just a guess... I think the box somehow taps into the mind of whoever holds it. It can bring things to life—whatever you want, or maybe even what you don’t want. It seems to pull from your deepest thoughts, your fears, your desires, and turns them into reality.”
Ethan’s brow furrowed as he processed this. “So... like it can read your mind?”
Thom nodded grimly. “Yeah. Something like that. It’s not just some trick of the light or a weird coincidence. I mean, think about it—Tom Mix showing up when I was daydreaming about old Westerns? Jay Garner’s old girlfriend? Erin’s fear of the Vorvon? It’s too specific, and too personal to be random. The box brings out what’s in your head and makes it real.”
He glanced up at Ethan, his face etched with worry. “And it’s not just me who thinks that. There’ve been stories. Whispers about this box being involved in some of Hollywood’s strangest moments. You ever hear those old stories about The Wizard of Oz?”
Ethan shook his head, unsure where Thom was going with this.
Thom continued, his voice taking on that conspiratorial tone again. “There were a lot of strange things that happened on the set of The Wizard of Oz. Sure, you’ve probably heard the rumors—the accidents, the weird mishaps. But one thing that always stuck with me was the flying monkeys. Have you ever wondered how they made those things so terrifying, so lifelike? Sure, special effects were good for the time, but not that good. Some folks swore that no one could explain how the monkeys looked so real—like something else was at work. And that’s not all. You remember Bedknobs and Broomsticks?”
Ethan nodded as a faint memory surfaced. “That old Disney movie, right? With the magic?”
Thom leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Yeah. Remember the scene with the ‘substitutionary locomotion’ spell? The one where all the suits of armor come to life and fight off the Nazis? People said Disney’s special effects team was second to none back then, but there were rumors... rumors that no one on set could explain how some of those scenes were filmed. The way the armor and period costumes moved so naturally, almost like they were truly alive. Some thought it was all technical wizardry, but others whispered that there was something else—a force no one wanted to talk about.”
Ethan felt a chill creep up his spine as Thom’s words sank in. “You think this box had something to do with those movies?”
Thom shrugged, but his eyes were serious. “I don’t know for sure. But I wouldn't be surprised after what I saw on Buck Rogers. This thing... it’s older than Hollywood itself, kid. Who knows how long it’s been passed around, affecting different productions, and different people?"
Ethan stared at the jade box, Thom’s words echoing in his mind. His thoughts drifted back to the story Thom had told about Gil Gerard—the mirror image of himself from Season 1 that had appeared out of nowhere, laser gun in hand, saving him from a knife-wielding fan. It had been so surreal, the idea of someone conjuring up a version of themselves—one that could act, think, and even protect them from harm. But if the box could do that --- if it could bring something as specific as a mirror image to life ----then what else was it capable of?
Ethan’s heart raced as his thoughts shifted to his own life, to the things he wanted—no, needed. He thought of Captain Apollo, the brave, strong warrior who always did the right thing. A hero who fought for justice, and who would never back down from a fight, even when the odds were against him. Apollo had always been the figure Ethan looked up to, someone who could stand up to bullies, protect the weak, and guide people through impossible situations. What if the box could bring Apollo to life, just like it had brought Gil’s mirror image? What if Apollo could be here, in his world, to protect him?
Then, his mind turned darker. His thoughts wandered to his father, Vernon Marshall—the tyrant who ruled their house with cruelty and anger. Ethan imagined his father’s booming voice, the sharp crack of his belt, and the oppressive fear that filled the house whenever Vernon was home. His father was a nightmare made real, a monster he could never escape. And his mother, Linda, was powerless, spineless. She sat quietly in front of the TV, lost in her shows, ignoring the pain and fear that controlled their lives. She never stood up to Vernon and never defended Ethan. He was alone in that house, with no one to protect him.
Ethan swallowed hard, glancing down at the box again. He could feel it now—the temptation, the power it held. If it could make Gil Gerard’s mirror image real, then why not Captain Apollo? Why not a hero who could save him from his father, from the life he was trapped in?
Thom’s voice broke through his thoughts, sounding distant but clear. “This thing can’t be trusted. It plays with your head. And if you’re not careful... it’ll make your worst nightmares real.”
Ethan’s eyes flicked up to Thom, and a slow realization settled in. His worst nightmares, yes—but what about his sweetest dreams? Couldn’t the box make those come true, too? His voice came out soft, almost hesitant to give voice to his thoughts. “Or... could it make your sweetest dreams come true?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Ethan felt a surge of adrenaline. His thoughts raced, and before Thom could respond, Ethan snatched the jade box from the counter and bolted toward the door. He had to get out of there, had to get home, and figure out if what Thom was saying was true. The bell above the door jingled wildly as he shoved it open, the cool air from outside hitting him like a slap.
“Hey! Hey!” Thom’s voice boomed from behind him. “Bring that box back here!” Ethan could hear Thom’s heavy footsteps pounding after him. “You don’t know what you’re messing with, kid! Let me see if I can bust it up with a hammer, destroy it before it does something worse!”
Ethan skidded to a halt just outside the shop, his heart hammering in his chest. He spun around, clutching the box tightly to his chest like it was his last lifeline. “No!” he shouted, backing away as Thom approached. “You don’t understand! I need it. I can use it... you don’t know what it’s like at home!”
Thom stopped in his tracks, his face twisted with frustration and something that looked almost like pity. “Listen, kid,” he said, breathing hard. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. I’ve got a store to run, and you... you’ve got no idea what kind of trouble you’re asking for. Do you think this thing’s gonna solve your problems? It’ll just make things worse.”
Ethan’s voice cracked as he pleaded, his eyes wide with desperation. “Please... just let me keep it. I don’t have anything else. My dad... he’s a monster. I can’t do it anymore. If this box can help me—if it can do something, anything—I have to try. You said it brings things to life... I can use it. I can make things better.”
Thom stared at him for a long moment, his jaw tight, clearly torn between doing the right thing and just wanting the kid out of his hair. Finally, he threw up his hands in exasperation. “Fine! If you want to take the damn thing, go ahead. But don’t come running back to me when it all goes sideways. If you get into trouble, it’s on you. I’m not responsible, and I sure as hell won’t be there to help you clean up the mess.”
Ethan swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he hugged the box tighter. “I won’t... I promise.”
Thom gave him one last hard look, then waved him off. “Get out of here, kid. And good luck... you’re gonna need it.”
Without another word, Ethan turned and ran, his heart pounding not just from fear—but from hope. Whatever the box was, whatever it could do, he had a chance now.354Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvui2dDiEQq
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Ethan ran through the streets with the jade box clutched tightly against his chest, his feet pounding the cracked sidewalk. The fading light of the late afternoon cast long shadows over the empty neighborhood. His thoughts whirled as he made his way back home, darting through alleyways and cutting across vacant lots to avoid running into anyone who might slow him down. Every step felt like a race against time—as though at any moment, Thom might change his mind and come after him, or worse, his father might show up out of nowhere.
The box felt heavier with each passing minute, the strange energy pulsing faintly under his fingertips. It seemed almost alive, as if it knew it was being taken somewhere it wasn’t supposed to be. But Ethan pressed on, determined.
By the time he reached the edge of his street, his breath was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest. He slowed his pace as the small, dilapidated house he called home came into view. The sight of it sent a familiar shiver down his spine. He kept to the edge of the yard, slipping past the rusted-out mailbox and carefully making his way to the front door. His father’s beat-up bus driver uniform wasn’t hanging on the peg by the door—good. He wasn’t home yet.
Ethan gently turned the knob, pushing the door open just wide enough to slip inside. The house was dark, the only light coming from the flickering blue glow of the television in the living room. He crept down the hallway, his eyes scanning the house for any sign of life. His father wasn’t there, and the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.
Then he saw her—his mother, Linda, sprawled out on the couch, sound asleep. She looked tired, as always, lost in her endless cycle of daytime TV marathons. A half-empty can of soda sat on the floor beside her, condensation dripping down its side. Ethan stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her. She looked so peaceful when she slept, so distant from the chaos of their lives. But even now, in sleep, there was no one to protect him. She never could, not from Vernon.
With a quiet breath, he turned and made his way to the back of the house. His room was at the far end of the narrow hallway, where he could hear the faint hum of the TV and still feel just a little bit separate from everything else. He pushed open the door to his bedroom, stepping inside as he closed it softly behind him. The space was small but filled with his personal treasures—a monument to the world of space operas, a shrine to every escape he had ever needed.
His room was cluttered with models and action figures from every sci-fi show and movie he loved. Model ships hung from the ceiling—Colonial Vipers, X-Wings, and starships—frozen in mid-flight. Posters of Battlestar Galactica, Star Wars, and Buck Rogers lined the walls, their heroes staring down at him from distant galaxies. On his desk, a line of action figures stood at attention: Captain Apollo, Buck Rogers, Luke Skywalker—his silent companions, always ready for battle.
His bed, covered in mismatched sheets and an old blanket, was nestled against the wall, just beneath a shelf crammed with old VHS tapes of his favorite shows. This room was the only place that felt safe to him. It was his sanctuary.
But now, he had to be careful. His father didn’t come in here often, but when he did, he tore through it like a storm, looking for reasons to be angry. The box—it couldn’t be left out in the open.
Ethan scanned the room, looking for a hiding place. His eyes landed on the old chest under his bed, the one where he kept his broken toys and other forgotten things. He knelt, sliding it out and opening the lid. It was packed full of old books, toy guns, and figures missing arms and legs. He shifted the clutter around, creating a small, secure space beneath the heap. Gently, he placed the jade box inside, tucking it beneath the mess so that only he would know where it was. His father wouldn’t think to look here. He never cared about this stuff.
Satisfied, Ethan slid the chest back under the bed and stood up, breathing a little easier. The box was safe, for now.
But as he sat on the edge of his bed, his heart still raced. His mind was buzzing with possibilities, with everything Thom had told him. The box could bring things to life. It could change everything. Maybe it could even give him the one thing he wanted most—an escape. A way out. A protector.
Ethan looked around his room, his eyes landing on the small action figure of Captain Apollo standing proudly on his desk. A warrior, a hero—someone who would stand up to his father, who wouldn’t be afraid. His fingers itched, wanting to hold the box again, to see if Thom’s stories were true.
His pulse quickened as he imagined it. What if?
The faint hum of the jade box seemed to echo in his mind, growing louder with every thought. It had already shown its power to others. Could it bring his hero to life?
He glanced at the door, listening for any sign of his father. The house was quiet, too quiet. And then Ethan knew what he had to do.
His hand clenched into a fist as he whispered to himself, “I’m going to find out soon."
ns216.73.216.223da2
and then Add to home screen.