Prompt 2: I Owe Nothing

The engraved wooden box had been in my family for generations and now it was mine.

            I had a brief thought of casting it aside as I ran through the woods, but I soon favored the fact that even if I should, they’d just as soon kill me without it as well as with it. I didn’t mind carrying the box, it was no encumbering weight in itself. Being pursued for my life wasn’t quite uncommon anyway, so this wasn’t a difficulty.

            The chaos of it all is what really bothered me, how much of it was completely out of my hands. My mother’s only been dead five hours and suddenly this secret comes to bite me as soon as I find out about it. I’m handed this box and told my family has safeguarded it since it was given to them by some ancient royal house and entrusted that it never be opened.

            For the better part of a day I wind up hiding in a cave, finally convincing myself I lost my pursuers, whomever they may be. At the same time I wonder what’s in the box that they wanted.

            A weapon? A written secret? I wonder whether or not it even has significance after so long. You could say it must be important if others still pursue it, but I could just as easily argue that if nobody knows what it is, it really has no importance.

            In the end it’s not about curiosity or some imagined interest or importance. Before I carry it any farther, before they find me and kill me, I make the decision. I owe nothing to those that seek this, and I owe just as much to those my ancestors swore their protection to. I made no promises to those beyond my reach.

            I open the box.