you're nothing special until you turn out the lights

A writing exercise not from jPod.

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Despite the strange metallic shard of a meteor that seemed to still faintly glow, the clock that made a ghostly creak every time the minute hand budged, and shrunken head sitting on the glass cabinet, the suitcase in the middle of the room had John's attention.

It had been retrieved from the attic this morning. Papa Joe had sworn he had never seen the suitcase before, but John did not exactly trust his memory. What seemed really odd to John was that the suitcase had no dust on it. If this was a forensics show he'd refer to the entire suitcase as a big void in dust splatter. The possibilities raced in his mind.

Behind him, Meredith cautiously looked on. John studied her intently for a moment and knew she was thinking about the bloodied dreamcatcher of an Aztec god, or the coral gathered from around the Bermuda Triangle, and how none of them were as strange this suitcase. John could feel her trepidation. He could see her slightly damp hands holding each other, waiting for his instructions.

The suitcase itself wasn't the most unique case in the world, sitting in its ubiquitous black leathery skin and silver frame. But the way it was simply dumped into the attic...

John couldn't decide if he should open it. The unfamiliarity of the case scared him. He knew one thing though, he could not, under any circumstances, allow it to be opened in the house. He told Meredith to grab the keys and he picked up the rather light suitcase - alien technology? - and transported it to their minivan. They drove out to a canyon about sixty miles from their home, where once there was an archaeological dig site set up because some professor thought there would be fossils from the Missing Link buried in the area. The area had been empty for years after, as if the disappointment was too much for anyone to handle. Here, no one but John or Meredith could be harmed.

John dragged the suitcase to the edge of the canyon, in case he had to push it over. The dry heat was already making him sweat. He bent down and examined the lock carefully, trying to determine the best way to open it. He turned to Meredith to ask for the crowbar, but before he got a word out, she slammed into his chest. John reached out desperately but the momentum carried both him and the suitcase over the edge. The suitcase popped open and several sheets of paper flew out, and John couldn't make out the contents of any of them. He was also trying to remember if he had seen the red glow in Meredith's eyes at the moment of impact, if maybe it was the Aztec god he had brought so thoughtlessly into their home. And then, he could think no more.