I come up to the grassy field. My shovel scrapes the ground. This is where I buried my time capsule. I dig a deep hole and finally, I hit something hard. I drop to my knees and pull out the wood box. I open the lid.

First, I pull out a scrap of rusty metal. When I was 8 we sold our house. Right as we left the house,I ripped a piece of metal from our shed. I swore I’d always keep it. I lied.

Secondly, I pulled out an old photograph. It shows an 11 year old me, at a ballet recital. I was in a tutu and a black leotard. I smile,in spite of myself, this was the recital I had won first place on my solo dance.

At last, I pull out the thing I came here for. A stack of paper. I wrote this story when I was 13. I am now an author but I ran out of material. I told my publisher about this story and he loved it. So here I am. I buried this story for someone else to find. I guess I need it more.

2 months later

“The Darkest Night” is a bestseller. I never thought this would ever happen. I wrote this story when I was 13. I am now 37. “The Darkness Night” has been featured on talk shows,radio stations,and best of all, my hometown’s newspaper.