On the second floor, Calvin sat in the corner, listening to forks scrape against plates below. He didn’t cry. He folded his arms tight across his chest and scowled, squeezing his eyes shut.

  Then he remembered the box.

  He moved to the far corner of the room, knelt, and lifted a loose floorboard. He pulled the box free and held it in his hands. Then turned it, tilted it, pressed at its edges. Nothing moved. The seams held fast.

  But then, the thin lines etched into the metal began to glow.

  They dimmed. Then flared again only brighter this time, white and clean

  Panels slid and twisted apart, unfolding into something jagged and maze-like. Sections rotated, split, and locked with soft mechanical clicks until it formed an eight-pointed star.

  Then the movement stopped and white smoke poured from its gold seams.

  At first it crept, thin and curling. Then it thickened, spilling faster, flooding the room, rolling across the floor and down the stairs.

  Calvin set the box down and staggered back. He fumbled blindly through the smoke until he collided with someone solid.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  A hand clamped around his arm.

  “Calvin!” Pa shouted.

  “I didn’t do it,” he said, breathless. “I swear!”

  Calvin twisted, trying to pull free, but the grip only tightened. The slap came without warning. Calvin hit the floor hard, the world flashing white at the edges. He crawled away as the smoke thinned, coughing, scrambling until his fingers struck the metal box that was now a star.

  He kept crawling just as Pa undid his belt.

  “Insubordinate, rotten child,”said Pa, stepping closer.

  Calvin crouched, arms raised, head ducked. The first lash burned across his back. The second stole the air from his lungs. He cried out, pain breaking loose, and when it became too much, he surged to his feet and ran.

  Pa lunged after him but tripped falling hard, his palms slapping the floor.

  Calvin stopped.

  The thought came suddenly.

  He grabbed the metal star.

  Lifted it.

  Brought it down on his Pa’s head.

  Once. Then a second time and third time.

  Until bone gave way beneath the metal. Until the floor was slick and red and Pa stopped moving, blood seeping outward, darkening the boards.

  Calvin stood there, shaking.

  He shut his eyes tight, feeling the heavy metal in his hands which was now warm.

  When Calvin opened his eyes, his father was gone.

  The room was as it was before the box and the smoke. He looked at the floor where Pa had fallen and in his place lay a small piece of black metal that was no longer than his finger. Calvin crept closer and picked it up. One side was white. The other black.