She came on a harvest day.
She seemed to be a gift from the gods, and I heard from some villagers that she was even flown here by Hermes. I don't doubt that.
Her name was Pandora, and she came, was married to Epimetheus, and disappeared into a majestic house in the forest as quickly as she came. No one ever heard from the mysterious girl that was Pandora and no one seemed to mind.
Except me.
I was curious by nature, as many have told me before, and I burned to know who she was, to discover the mystery behind the girl.
It was with this curiosity that set me off down the road that led to the forest, and undoubtedly, to the mysterious girl's home. On my way, however, I was stopped by a bearded old man who looked piercingly at me before saying, "Many are blind to the dangers of curiosity. It would be wise not to test The Fates with it."
Wisely, I heeded his advice and returned home to go about my daily duties. However, by nighttime, my curiosity had returned with a burning vengeance as I laid awake tossing and turning. It seemed to be the only thing that kept me from slumbering.
Finally, frustrated and restless, I got up from bed and swept out into the warm summer night. I traveled along the road towards the forest, each step seeming to sooth the burn as though quenching my curiosity would be the key to my insomnia. Entering the forest, I found that the grass was wet with dew, and the moonlight made it glisten like tears in the dark. Still, I walked on until I reached the gate of the mysterious girl's house — Pandora's house.
Here I hesitated, for a small part of me felt that the opening of the gate gave a sense of finality that there would be no going back. Just as I was about to rest my hand on the latch of the gate, the old man's words can back to me, whispering — warning — me, "It would be wise not to test The Fates with it."
I returned home.
For awhile my curiosity seemed to dim until it merely simmered deep inside me. It almost seemed like it was the small flame of a stove and I was the kettle of water. For weeks everything was calm until, like the kettle of water, my curiosity finally boiled over again.
I walked and I again reached the gate before the night whispered the man's warning in my ear and I crept back to the safety of my home. However, my curiosity could no longer be contained. I returned, night after night, always reaching the gate, and always returning home with the night whispering urgently in my ear.
Each morning, after returning home from my nightly visit to the gate, I would berate myself for my weakness and not heeding the old man's warning. In desperation, I carved the old man's warning in my bedroom door, effectively reminding myself each time I left that curiosity was dangerous.
For days this worked effectively. My curiosity immediately dimmed as I read those words each and every time I attempted to leave. Finally, it seemed, I reigned supreme over my instincts.
I did not know that the curiosity that quietly simmered in me — and that I believed to be gone — was simply biding its time.
In one unusual night, the moon seemed piercingly bright. It poured in through my window and seemed to ignite my curiosity. The burning feeling returned. In a trance-like state I rose from the bed as I had done many times before and crossed to the door. This time however, the old man's warning seemed not to register through to my mind and I paid it no heed as I opened the door and stepped out into the night.
The night enveloped me, whispering in my ear as it had done so many times before, except this time it encouraged me and seemed to be the driving force that pushed me to take one step after the other.
The dew shone even more like tears and felt warm, wet, and slippery under my feet, vaguely like blood. I half expected to look down and find my feet a deep crimson.
Finally, I reached the gate, the object that had been the bane of my existence and had haunted my dreams for so long. The moonlight illuminated it until it seemed to be the only thing existing in a shroud of darkness.
As if it was no longer a part of me, my hand reached out, resting on the latch. The burning sensation seemed to quiet, as if anticipating my next move. Slowly, I turned the latch and the gate swung silently open.
A flood of moonlight rushed through, illuminating a scene before me. A girl, whom I can only assume to be Pandora, was kneeling down in the grass, a golden box in her hands and a hole in the ground. Just as I had opened the gate, she had opened the box as well.
What seemed like spirits flew out of the box, laughing and jeering as they circled her before flying off. One latched on to me and I stumbled backwards. As I struggled, the burning inside me seemed to intensify until it was almost unbearable. My muscles soon began to ache as I became weaker and weaker. Feverish, I collapsed on the ground, convulsing, and the grass seemed to grow and wrap around me like vines, holding me captive. I felt rather than saw the spirit relinquishing its grip on me and flying off into the night to join the others in becoming a part of the whispers of the night.
My vision blurred but I could almost make out Pandora, shutting the box just as the last spirit was about to make its escape, and maybe — just maybe — a bearded old man watching the both of us and looking thoroughly disappointed.