It’s a silly thing to do as an adult, but most of us have done it. Keep a toy from your childhood. Some parent’s have boxes in their attic of toys their children refuse to take to their own homes but will not allow the parents to throw them away, while others may keep only a stuffed bear or tiger that sits on their pillows once their bed is made. The reasons are almost always sentimental, nothing more or less. Mine is a little different.

I keep mine out of fear.

When I was ten, my father returned from a business trip in New Orleans, and like any business trip he made sure to pick something up for me while there. He always tried to make it something memorable and local, and this was certainly the most memorable item I’ve received to date. He came back on a Saturday afternoon and had phoned ahead to tell my mother when his flight arrived, so I knew when he should be home and was waiting anxiously looking out the window for him. The yellow cab pulled into our driveway to drop him off and I went running out to meet him. He dropped his bags when I came running up and swept me up into a great big bear hug, like he always did after a trip.

“Hey champ, did you take care of your mom while I was away?”

“Yes sir!” I said excitedly. He put me down and handed me his briefcase to carry in. After he had settled in and unpacked his bags he came into the kitchen where my mom was making a late lunch and I sat patiently at the kitchen table knowing I was about to get a surprise.

He kissed her and whispered something in her ear. My mom giggled and said something about not while I was sitting right there. He laughed and approached me with his hand behind his back.

“Son, do you know anything about New Orleans?” He asked.

“You said it was on a big river.” I replied.

“Yes, well that isn’t incorrect. New Orleans is a magical city, son. A lot of amazing things have happened there, and its one of the oldest big cities in America. It’s where Jazz music was invented, but you might not know that it’s also very well known for the voodoo that’s practiced there.”

“Like in the movies?”

“Kind of,” he said. “But this is real. I almost bought you a tshirt on Bourbon street, but I stumbled into an alley by mistake and found this great little Voodoo shop. Clearly owned by a local, with all kinds of strange and interesting things there. I found this and something told me it was made just for you.”

From behind his back he pulled out a boxed wrapped in dirty brown paper with a wax seal holding it all together.

“Go ahead and open it.” He said. I tore into the paper like opening the first present on Christmas morning. Inside was a handmade wooden box, with some strange markings written on it. I went to open it, but my dad stopped me.

“Hold on champ. You actually can’t open it. You see, the man who runs the shop called this something like a spirit box. He said there’s a spirit trapped inside and opening it will release it.”

My mother scolded him and told him it was no thing for a young boy to have, but he insisted. We put it on the shelf in my room and I didn’t think anything of it for several days, until one night I woke to what sounded like a whisper in my room. I looked around in the darkness but I could see I was alone. The voice had stopped so I laid back down. Moments later I could hear it again, but now it was clearly calling my name. I got out of bed and followed the sound, realizing it was coming from the box on my shelf. I took it down and set it on my bed.

“Who’s in there?” I asked.

“Oh, just a poor old man, I was minding my business when this evil magician trapped me in here. Be a good chillin’ and let me out now.” It said. I reached for the lid, but remembered what my daddy said.

“I don’t think I should. They told me not to open the box.”

“Who did?” It asked. “Your parents? What do they know? Let me out and I’ll give you treats, little one. All the treats you could desire.”

I politely refused again, but it kept persisting. For weeks this would happen every few nights. The voice in the box would ask me to let it out, and I would always say no. One night I had a terrible nightmare I will never forget. I was running through a swamp, and some great wolf creature was chasing me, its red eyes glowing through the mist, small trees snapped like twigs as it pushed them out of the way as it chased me. I woke up in a cold sweat trying to catch my breath.

The voice in the box was laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” I demanded.

“I’m laughing because you kept running from that rougarou i sent into your dreams. You didn’t like that did you?”

“No.”

“Good. Now imagine if I sent that monster after you for reals, imagine I brought it here to your house and told him to eat you up and your daddy and your mammy. How would you like that?”

“You wouldn’t.” I said.

“I told you I’d get you all manner of great things your heart desired if you let me out and you didn’t. Now I’m done fooling with you child, you let me out or I’ll do terrible evils to you and your family.” it said, the voice now angry and deep.

I thought for a moment, and decided I couldn’t trust it. I still had the paper with that wax seal on it, so I grabbed it out of my drawer and put the box on the paper to wrap it back up.

“Oh you crafty boy, you know that seal gonna hold me a while longer. Well, I tell you this, little one. If you ever open this box, and one day you will, I will bring upon you any and every type of evil we spirits are capable of. I will find every monster in the swamp and summon them to you. I will eat your toes, and drink your blood, and I will laugh when I do it! I will...”

The moment I had the box wrapped again in the paper and the seal on top once more, the voice stopped. I grabbed some string and tie it shut, and have kept that box safe all these years. I keep it so that spirit can’t get out, because if it does, I know that it will hold it’s words true, and all the evils it is capable of will come down on me.