It Was His Birthday

And he looked for his gift

The father handed the package to his five-year-old son. It was a large square box wrapped in bright yellow paper. There was a blue ribbon on top, tied in a beautiful, elaborate knot.

‘Wow!’ the boy’s eyes brightened. ‘That’s the biggest birthday gift ever! What’s in there, Dad?’

‘Open it.’ The father said coolly. His face was pale, and no emotion could be tracked in the vastness of his desert-like, yellow eyes.

Kneeling on the carpeted floor, the boy started tearing at the wrappings. He demolished the exquisite knot with a ruthlessness that would make any gift shop girl cry in terror; he lacerated the thin yellow paper with fingers curled like the talons of an eagle, and when he saw the lid of the grey box beneath, he removed it with a flourish that resembled the swing of an executioner’s hand.

The boy looked in the box. He frowned.

There was another grey box inside, a bit smaller.

‘What’s this?’ he asked.

‘Open the next box.’ The father’s voice sounded even cooler. It was like a gust of winter breeze piercing through the heart of the summer room.

The boy opened the next box. Inside, he found another one. Smaller than the second.

‘Dad! What is this?’

‘Keep opening!’ The father stood, leaning against the wall, arms dangling at his sides and face as pale as a heap of fresh snow.

The boy kept opening. Inside every box, there was another one. Smaller. And smaller. And smaller. Finally, he stopped and clenched his fists.

‘Where is the gift?’ The power of the childish anger crashed thunderously into the walls, and crumbles of white paint rolled down like tears.

‘Inside the last box.’ The father said. He hadn’t budged. The desert-like yellow expanse in his eyes had grown infinite, and the icy breeze coming from his mouth quickly grabbed the paint crumbles from the walls and hurled them through the air.

‘Which is the stupid last box?’

‘The one you’re looking at right now.’

The boy looked. This box was really tiny. Nothing but a coin could fit in it. However, the boy knew that there were golden coins. His eyes brightened once again, and he reached for the lid.

He removed it.

The tiny box was empty.

No golden coins inside, no microscopic dog for a pet, not even a funny insect.

Not even another box.

Just grey, empty space.

‘There’s no gift here!’ the boy’s whine shook the room, the building, the city, the country, the planet, the Universe. ‘Where’s my gift, Dad? Where’s my gift?’

The figure by the wall gave the boy a smile that looked like a thin, curled icicle.

‘Ask life,’ the father said.

This story is a response to Zane Dickens the Instigator’s weekly prompt ‘That antagonizing force’:

If you liked this story, you might enjoy any of my fiction stories here:

Thank you!