Erik grunted annoyingly as he rose out of his favourite chair.
"Who on earth could be knocking on the door, at THIS hour?" he thought to himself as he walked out of his bedroom, across the hall and down the stairs. He glanced at the clock on the wall of the stair and it was just about 5 minutes past 11 in the evening. He felt a bit uneasy opening the door this late, as he was home alone while his parents were away on a cruise celebrating their 20th wedding anniversary, and his younger sister was at a sleepover a couple of houses down the street.
As a new series of knocks could be heard, and he managed to gather up enough courage to walk over to the door, unlocking it and pushing it open.
No-one was there.
He quickly stuck his head out through the door, staring up and down the drive way and to both sides of the garden, convinced it being Fredrick, the annoying and out-of-control 11 year old neighbour kid playing a prank on him. Determined to catch the guilty offender red handed he ran down the 4 steps leading up to the front door, but his foot got caught on something, resulting in him falling face first into the narrow patch of grass on the right side of the driveway. Luckily Erik only scraped a knee and elbow, but he still yelled out the worst and loudest profanities he could muster over this unfortunate turn of events.
He rose from the ground, dusted himself of (still muttering unspeakable words) and headed back in. Now he saw, on the third step in front of the door, what he had caught his foot on. Someone had placed a dark wooden box there.
Almost immediately forgetting hos wounds, he ran over and inspected it more closely in the light cascading out though the doorway. It was about half a meter wide, maybe 20 cm high, made from some sort of dark yet mysteriously reflective wood, and it looked ancient. But there was no visible dust or dirt on it.
He quickly rose up, looked to his left and his right for anyone standing in the garden or maybe a passer by on the street, and convinced no-one was looking he lifted the box. It was quite heavy, and from inside a low, multiple clinking sound could be heard, as if there was something made of glass inside, and lots of it, what ever it was.
He quickly shut and locked the door, and ran up the stairs into his room with the box in a tight and secure embrace. He gently placed it on his desk, and just admired it for a few seconds. Not really knowing why, he walked over to the bedroom door, closed it and turned the key around. He felt the handle, and it was locked.
He sank down into the comfortable armchair placed in front of his desk were he most often had his laptop computer, and slowly let his hands run along the edges of the wooded box. It was so soft and smooth, yet rough and almost warm to the touch. Where there should have been a keyhole, there was only a round hole, just barely big enough for him to fit a finger. Following this sudden urge, he inserted his right hand index finger. He almost instantly regretted his actions, since it seemed impossible to get it back out. He pulled with all his might, and just as he started contemplating breaking the box against the ground, his finger flew loose and a lid opened on the box.
Inside the box, protected in small compartments all lined in a purple, velvet like material - were little viles made of glass.
Erik stared bewildered at the contents of the mysterious box. There was three rows of viles, and about 20 viles in each row. He took one up and looked at it closer in the light of his desk light. It had tiny symbol on it, but he could not make it out. He looked at another, and it too had a symbol on it. In fact all of them had each had a different and unique label.
Most of the markings he could not for the life of him figure out what they were supposed to mean, but the symbol on one of the viles caught his eye...