Revamped!
[Copyright - Magnus Chase: The Sword of Summer]
Pandora's Box:
I don't steal from just any random person. I may come from a branch of evil and a branch of the unknown, but I have some moral values that the orphanage raised me to have and cherish. I choose to steal from the vapid jerks who have more than they need so they won't notice that anything's missing. Kind of smart if you ask me. If you're driving some expensive looking car, I will have no problem jimmying open the window and taking the spare change hiding in your cup holder. If you can spend thirty dollars on a small bowl of soup, then you can spare me two dollars.
I don't steal because it's enjoyable although it does give me the same thrill I get from climbing out a window to exit a house. Yeah, I know it's wrong but I steal for survival. You can't blame me for that, right?
-o-
I walk down the street. This is one of the richest streets in Manhattan. I could tell because every man is overdressed and every woman is in heels (despite the snow). All the stores have their windows tinted with fake snow for the holiday season. Their signs say 70% off sale, but it doesn't look like it. If you ask me, it looks like they added 70%.
I pass by Pandora. It's this jewelry store I admire only from a distance. Compared to the other stores I've seen, this one is the most appealing to the eyes. I have never actually bought anything from it, but I've done some window shopping from there. They have the prettiest set of rings. I would love to have those sleek rings on my fingers and show them off. Just imagine: perfectly painted nails with rings to top it all off. A Courtney Brown fantasy. Unfortunately, that will only remain in my imagination since I'll never be able to afford both the rings and the manicure. I could barely afford a water bottle, let alone a ring with crystal embedded around it and polished nails.
I look inside the boutique and see a lady (a customer, not an employee). Her physical appearance isn't that important but here's all there is to know: she is loaded with cash (or maybe her husband's cash, but who am I to judge?) Everything on her from her jacket to her boots to her purse and gloves are made of leather. Real leather, not the fake crap you'd find on a discount rack in a thrift shop but real genuine leather. I watch as the lady chatters on her phone as the Pandora store clerk lines up bag after bag.
My eyes open wider. It's almost like she bought at least one of each piece of jewelry in the store. It blows my mind that people actually do that. They buy a whole lot but it's actually way more than they need. I mean, who needs fifty pieces of assorted jewelry? It's ridiculous. That's an example of me being hypocritical since I was just thinking about buying every ring in that store.
Anyways, the lady is done with her purchasing and finally leaves the store, still yapping away on the phone. An employee follows carrying the rest of her bags. Who buys that much at Pandora? The answers are that lady and future me if I win a lottery.
As the two of them scurry off, I notice that one of them drops a bag. I quickly run over to the bag and pick it up. Nobody around me even notices what I'm doing. Everyone's too busy looking down at their phones to see a little possible kleptomaniac take from her prey. That couldn't be better for my side of the case. I take a peek into the bag and see a little, light blue box with Pandora's logo engraved in black and a white, satin bow. I should catch up to them and give the bag back, I really should.
Then why aren't I moving?
I could keep whatever is in here and sell it in the black market of the city. I'd make enough money to buy food and water. It's not like what I'm doing is wrong. I didn't steal the ring, I found it after the dropped it. I bet a good portion of people would do the same thing I'm doing.
I put the box in my pocket and scurry off. Once I'm a good distance away, I open Pandora's box and it sparkles. Sitting on a mount of white satin is a small, round, silver ring that's in the design of a crown. I love it so much. I don't want to sell this. I want to keep it. Forget the money, I'll be fine, but if I'm a hundred and ten percent desperate, I'll think about it.
-o-
I'm walking in a neighbourhood when I feel my stomach try to punch it's way out. I'm starving. I've been like that for about a day now. It's hard to find food and once you do, it's even harder to ration it out so it'll last longer. I need to find food. I mean, just because I cannot die by starvation doesn't mean I shouldn't eat. That is a risk of flashing lights on Amora's blinker. Come on brain, think of something. I know you're food-deprived but I'm desperate.
I see a large mansion in front of me. The driveway is empty. From the looks of it, the garage seems too small to fit a car. Nobody must be home. A smirk plays on my face. I casually walk around the property, if there is a security system, I can't spot it. I look around at the neighbours. Nobody's outside or at their windows probably because of the cold. Good. That means that they won't see me.
I jump the fence and land on my two feet like a cat. I freeze, waiting for something to come at me, nothing. I look at the windows. They're shut and breaking them is not a good play. I have to make it seem like I was never here. I see a set of stairs leading towards a basement entrance. I skip down the steps. The door is a simple latch with a set of even simpler locks. It's almost as if this house was asking to get robbed.
Two minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, I'm inside.
I freeze again, doing the same thing I did after I jumped the fence, still nothing. Their basement is chilly and has a spooky vibe like every stereotypical basement out there. You'd think that I'd be cautious for ghosts, but c'mon. I've seen witches and gods, but ghosts aren't real.
My steps are quiet as I make my way up the main staircase. The house is pin-drop silent. Nobody is here. I wouldn't know how to react if someone was actually here the whole time.
I walk into the kitchen. How nice. They have tiled floors, cherry cupboards, stainless steel refrigerator and freezer, and marble countertops. I pull my sleeve just over my hand and open the fridge. I am not risking leaving behind any fingerprints. I open some of the mini drawers in the fridge and snoop around. I help myself to a package of salami slices, a box of crackers, and a bottle of soda. Things they wouldn't miss. A champagne bottle is eyeballing me but I grab the candy bar next to it instead before closing the fridge.
I walk up the staircase again and enter an interior decorating disaster. Burgundy furniture, fairy lights, carpeted floors, and water paintings on the wall with silk curtains. If I threw up, nothing would come out no matter how much I forced it. I sneak around even though there's no reason to sneak. I open a door and see that it's the bathroom. There's really nothing to describe here. There's a sink, a toilet, a shower - the basics.
I take a second to look at my reflection. Oh lord...is that what I really look like? I haven't seen my physical appearance for the longest time, I was starting to forget what I looked like. Now that I see myself, it's almost like I'm seeing a complete stranger. My cheekbones start to feature making me look a bit older than I really am, my clothes are a bit too big, it's all awful. I put on my hood to cover it up.
I open the cupboard underneath the sink and I've hit the jackpot. It's a bottle of dry shampoo! My oily hair has been asking for it for the longest time. I'm hesitant on whether to take it or not but it's covered in a layer of dust so I'm assuming that it's been here a while. If the family notices that it's missing, oh well, they can afford a new bottle. I place the bottle into my backpack and as I zip it close, I hear a door open, footsteps enter, and the same door close.
Someone's here.
Adults are talking, children are chattering, the family's home. Guess who's in the house and doesn't belong? Me. I quietly go to the bathroom door, close it, and shut off the light. I think of what my possible options are which takes a few seconds because it is a short list. I can't go downstairs for an exit, but there isn't another way out.
I hear someone coming upstairs. I look straight and see the window. I slide it open, throw my backpack out, and then climb out. I stand up and thank the universe that this roof is flat. I run across, lightly, looking for a way down. There's no visible drainpipe to shimmy down. All I can see is a tree. Why is it always a tree? I always find myself leaving places via the tree.
I examine the branch. I'm not a botanist but I think it's strong enough to hold me. This is the only benefit to having an empty stomach: I weigh nothing. I don't spare a thought on the consequences before I take a running start to my leap off the roof onto the tree branch. It's not like I can die on my own anyways. I hang there for a second and purposely drop myself. I land ever so graceful. I quickly leap over the fence and walk down the street as if nothing happened.
I feel a laugh softly force it's way out. I successfully broke into a house and escaped. That's nothing to be proud about but I'm proud of myself and isn't that all that matters?
[Yes, I know that stealing is bad. I just figured that since she is the daughter of Loki and Amora, we need to give her some more mischief].
[2019: This chapter was literally me projecting out into the universe that I want a Pandora ring].
