Subj: THE BOX Part Two
Date: 5/16/00 7:33:44 AM Central Daylight Time
From: N.E. Collins

The box had some peculiarly properties. When Quentin and Evan had moved it into the house it had been as light as a feather. They had been unable to find a servant available to do the chore as every ready hand at Collinwood was in attendance upon Laura Collins. Now, that the box was placed in a dreary darkened corner in Quentin's foyer they could not budge it an inch. It was as if it had sprouted roots deep into the flooring and it tenaciously held onto to it's "chosen" spot.

It was quite an ornate piece of work. It had many different kinds of writings and pictographs depicted on its surface. "If this were a modern day steamer trunk, I would say this luggage had been clear around the known world!" Quentin exclaimed as he examined the many and various colorful markings enscribed on the surface of the wood.

"Yes, it appears to have quite a lengthy history," Evan agreed. "Although it is unclear as to it's exact origin." He pointed to an inscription in Ancient Greek. "This seems to be a warning of some kind, and here," he fingers brushed a pictograph of a female form. "Here is an indication to shun women." Just then Laura Collins let out a howl of pain as she continued in the throes of labor! Both men chuckled nervously.

"I don't need a warning on an old box to remind me to steer clear of women!" Quentin said with a sneer on his face. "They serve their purpose and then I am on my way!" Both men laughed, but stopped short as Laura's agony reached their ears yet again. Evan suggested they leave. "What's the matter, old boy? Can't take it?" Quentin teased his colleage.

"I just can't bear to hear a woman in pain, or in her tears. Those are the two things I simply cannot abide." Evan stood up for himself rather weakly, but he did nonetheless.

"I hate to see that paticuliar woman in such pain," said Quentin. "And she hardly ever cries. She is too much of a fury to let tears scar her features! And what beautiful features she supports!" Quentin countenance took on a dreamy look.

Evan retorted with, "Don't tell me you have designs on your own brothers wife! And her as large as a beached whale! Surely, you don't mean?"

Quentin's eyes danced merrily in his head as he answered in a sort of sing-song fashion. "Oh, don't be so quick to judge this woman by her current size. She was bigger when she carried Jamison, and she all but snapped back to her charming self in no time!"

"That was with her first child, old boy. They do that sometimes, but this is her second, and the same may not hold true. Besides, what would Edward think if he knew, and what of Laura, and her affection for him?" Evan questioned.

Quentin laughed loudly as he stood at the mantlepiece of the foyer. "Affection? For Edward? Laura? There is none. Not a wit! She cares only for her child, and soon her children."

"There is the family fortune to consider. And Edward stands to inherit before you, I'm afraid. How can you hope to compete with that? You know a woman's heart is where the gold is brightest." Evan responded rather stuffily.

Quentin shook his head. "Not this woman. She cares not for the money, but oddly enough she is fascinated by the family name. She cannot stand the man who gave it to her, and yet she revels in being a member of the Collins family. She is a strange beauty. Strange indeed." Laura gave out with another wild shriek and Quentin agreed it was time to be elsewhere. The delight of the moment had worn off for him and he was ready for some new amusement of diversion.

They left the room with only a single light burining. The box lay in shadow and quiet. But, wait! What was that sound? It was like the rustling of a wounded bird unable to take proper flight. Where had it come from? There it was again. It was unmistable. It had come from the box.

Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production.