Index was once a small and close-knit community, but the town located on the western side of Washington state has grown in recent years beyond anyone's expectations. It is the ideal place for those who work in Seattle but can't afford the city's high real estate prices, and for others the natural beauty attracts them to the town. And Index truly is a beautiful place - surrounded by thick evergreen trees, tall mountains and glistening rivers and lakes. While weather is typically rainy with overcast skies even this does nothing to take away from the beauty of the town, and it is only highlighted further when the heavy snow graces the town and caps the mountains in winter. To many, Index would seem like a paradise. And yet lurking beneath this visual beauty there is more to this town than anyone might ever imagine...

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 [Closed] Your Childhood in a Box

[Closed] Your Childhood in a Box

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[Closed] Your Childhood in a Box

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Mon Apr 17, 2017 11:57 pm

Digging through boxes to find paperwork I wasn't even sure existed was a pain in the ass. I'd come across a few things, some of which went immediately into the trash, others... Didn't. Found a box of my moms shit, stuff I held onto because for however many years I believed she was dead. And that wasn't a lie. She was dead, just not in the way parents were supposed to be when it was ''their time''. I found myself looking at it with a completely different perspective. I didn't even sort through it, all it took was opening up the top and seeing the contents, knowing it was her shit, and I immediately tossed it into the ''trash'' pile. The box of my dads stuff however, wasn't tainted yet. But who knew, the world liked to throw me curve balls. Maybe he was a blood sucker too. Only a fraction better than Mom because as far as I could tell, he wanted me to think he was dead, and wasn't sending me checks for fifty thousand dollars to ''buy my acceptance'' either.

Then there were the good boxes... The ones full of shit from my childhood that I just couldn't let go. I never considered myself sentimental. But the thought of losing things that reminded me of the way the air smelled in Seattle after a week long storm... Or an old pair of headphones repaired with duct tape that reminded me of old faces like John and Robert, the gay bar owners that used to slip me half shots when Mom and Dad were performing... I just couldn't see myself letting that stuff go. I didn't have many boxes, we never owned much... I guess we never needed to, or if I felt like looking at our situation realistically, we were dirt poor. In some ways I understood why people grew up to hate their parents. Looking back at the selfish mistakes they made. But someone in my situation? I couldn't help but look back and remember how simple life was in comparison to now.

Fuck, there you are. I spoke to myself, looking down into my box of DVD's. Even found my VHS set for Indiana Jones, along with others. I wasn't sentimental about that set in particular, but couldn't quite figure out why the thought of tossing it made me feel uneasy...

I'd set aside an empty box, which was now full. Tossing random things into it that filled me with nostalgia. Mostly shit from the 90's. Like my old walkman cassette player... It even still had my old headphones attached, the original gangsters that saw more wear and tear than my leather jacket. They still worked too. Some of the music was terrible, and clearly recorded from the a shitty Seattle radio station, the voice of the DJ talking over the beginning and end of the songs. But damn if it didn't remind me of an easier life. Then there was my set of comics, none of which were marvel, I distinctly remembered hating nineties marvel... Home alone on VHS with the DVD randomly taped to the back of the box in a paper casing. Funny... I didn't remember doing that. And of course random shit, like an old rolled up poster of Cindy Crawford... A light up yoyo, and my old gameboy.

By the time I'd carried the box from the attic to the living room, I'd forgotten completely about the paperwork I'd been looking for, staring down at my box like it was a box of goodies and I was a Kid on Easter Morning, staring down at my hunt haul. My eyes had traveled to the couch, and I remembered the conversation I'd had with Michelle a while back. At the time it sounded like... Just a fucked up story, starring a fucked up girl. Now it felt like more. I couldn't imagine my earliest memories being... Modern day. Not having a box full of vague memories that only come back in flashes, or scents, or sounds... The shit we took for granted...

My face lit up at the idea forming. And I immediately moved the box to the kitchen, pulling out a pen and paper to write a note. I taped it to the top, and it read bluntly "your childhood in a box". I wrote out one more for the inside, and it read simply "these are the only good things you missed". I tossed it inside, and taped the entire thing up. My phone buzzing in my pocket as I carried it towards the door. I answered, listening to Logan immediately unloading a fuck load of information that was muffled by the sound of loud music in the background. Call me when you're not in the car idiot. I hung up and closed the front door behind me.

Before leaving, I dropped the box off at Michelle's doorstep, and headed straight for Taco Bell.

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