Bite Size: The Music Box

Ten-year-old Cindy was sitting quietly in the pew at the back of the church watching mom and dad cry in front of Grandma Mae’s coffin. Grandma Mae had been Cindy’s favorite person in all the world and now she was gone. A heart attack and now there would be no more stories or warm chocolate chip cookies with milk after school. It was over.

Out of nowhere, a person dressed all in black glided up the isle and stopped at Cindy’s pew. “Hello Cindy.”

Cindy looked at the person. It was an old woman. She wore a black hat with a delicate lace covering that obscured most of her features, and a long black dress that draped all the way to the floor. Her hands were covered in black velvet gloves. The old woman was holding a black leather purse with gold clasps.

“How did you know my name?” She asked the old woman.

There was a hint of a smile beneath the lace and the gloved hands moved to open the purse. She reached inside and pulled out a breathtakingly beautiful music box. It looked heavy even though it was small. It was barely three inches across and two inches wide. There were tiny golden birds, flowers and trees embedded in the porcelain lid and sides. Golden filigree decorated all of the corners. It looked magical and mysterious.

Cindy stared at the music box with fascination until the old woman spoke.

“A gift for you. Use it with care.” The old woman held out the music box. After a slight hesitation, Cindy took it. It did feel as heavy as it looked but yet it was so delicate. The tiny box fit perfectly in her hand. She stroked it with one finger, feeling the texture of the gold and porcelain. After a moment, Cindy looked up to thank the old woman, but she was gone.

Later that night, she lay in bed, looking at the music box. Grandma Mae would have loved it. She had a collection of porcelains. They were all packed away now. But mom had given her one of Grandma Mae’s pieces. It was a woman holding a small child. Cindy had placed the music box next to the figurine. They were both on the nightstand beside her bed. The soft light from the lamp shown down on the items, bathing them in a gentle glow.

Cindy sat up and picked up the music box. Gently she opened it. Inside, on the left, were some metal gears that looked old and delicate. The gears were attached to three metallic buttons. On the right side was a tiny ballerina, arms up and one leg out, poised to dance. Cindy pushed one of the buttons, curious to see what would happen. The metal gears began to move and strains of Chopin’s Nocturns began to tinkle out of the music box, the notes playing eerily in the still room. The ballerina began to turn slowly, dancing to the music.

She began to cry. She missed Grandma Mae so much! “Oh, Grandma Mae! I wish you were alive again!” she sobbed mournfully.

To her surprise, the tiny music box began to glow. Cindy stopped crying and stared with wide eyes. Beautiful golden light tones swam through the porcelain as the song played. The ballerina continued to dance. After a few minutes, the glow died down and the ballerina finished her revolutions. The music stopped and the box returned to normal.

The next morning, Cindy was sitting on the back steps turning the music box in her hands. What had happened last night? Was it really magic?

Suddenly, she was distracted from her thoughts by a weird noise.