text: It was dark, wet, and stormy. Christian sat down at his Grandma’s ancient computer. He hit it to turn it on and waited for it to load. After twenty minutes of frustration, he finally booted it up. Christian sighed, cracked his knuckles, and blew the dust off of the keys. Christian’s grandmother had passed away years ago, and her things had gone to Christian. Christian had been owning the abandoned house, but He was selling it now. He had to get rid of a ton of stuff. Unfortunately, his grandma was a hoarder, so he had a lot to do. Once Christian had seen an outdated, white computer, he thought it would be a cool break to sit down and try it out. As soon as he had turned it on, a “senior” website pulled up from a long time ago. The computer had belonged to his grandfather, and grandma, but Christian couldn’t imagine his grandma using it. It had to have belonged to his grandfather who had passed away thirty-five years before. His grandpa had been a strange man. He used to always have a strange grin before he passed away, the man always wore zebra-striped aviator glasses. Christian read what the site said. It read: *Free Object if You Put in Your Address.” What the heck is an “object”* Christian thought, as he clicked the *I want it* button. It took him to another old site that read, *Type in your information with the questions.* Christian Typed all of it in and waited. The computer shut off and didn’t turn on after that. Christian soon forgot all about the computer, he donated, threw away, and sold everything in the house. One week later a small box appeared in his mailbox. Christian picked it up and threw it onto the kitchen table. It was heavy. Christian ran upstairs to grab some scissors, he ran back down and started to cut open the tape that sealed the box. The box was very vintage. It looked as if it was from the 1970s or 80s. Christian finished cutting the tape, and he was about to open it when he thought. *What is in here? This was what grandpa was doing before he died. Could this be what caused him to die?* He shook the feeling and peeled open the box. When he opened the cardboard flaps and peeled away some crackling yellowed tissue paper, he saw what was in the box. A cold hand shot out and grabbed him. His face shot into an expression of pure horror. His jaw dropped, and he let out a scream that shook his neighborhood. Christian struggled as the cold pale hand tried to pull him into a cold, ice world. Throughout the interior of the box was a desert of snow. Christian cried as he helplessly flailed his arms and screamed. The arctic wind was blowing into his face. The cold, mummified hand dug its sharp fingernails into Christian’s flesh. He let out one last cry for help before he was sucked into a world of pain, despair, and absolutely no joy at all. The police arrived at the house after a smiling old man had called. He said he had heard screaming, from the old house. The police thanked the kind-hearted man and headed in. They found nothing. The old man, who had reported the incident, grinned a strange grin, as he peeked through the crack in the fence. He adjusted his zebra aviator glasses and took a sip from a mug of coffee. The old man had his cold, pale hand stuck inside an old open box, with tissue paper. Flaking away from the hands of time.