The Forbidden Cabinet

“What are you doing in there?”

Colton Wallace flinched. The wooden stool beneath him teetered as he twisted toward the stairs, pressing a shaky finger to his lips.

“Shhh.”

Standing halfway up the steps was his own personal nightmare wrapped in reindeer-print pyjamas. His twin sister, Hadley, rubbed her eyes, mouth wide open in mid-yawn.

“I’m telling Mom and Dad,” Hadley mumbled. “They said that was… foreboding.”

“Forbidden,” Colton snapped, turning back around. “Just like you’re forbidden from touching my stuff.”

Dark mahogany towered over the boy. The antique cabinet’s chipped edges and scratched panels hinted at secrets they wouldn’t give up without a fight. Moonlight slipped through the living room window, catching glossy patches of wood and making them gleam like beady eyes. Outside, snowflakes drifted past the frosted glass, their shadows sliding over Colton in slow, ghostly shapes.

He thought the night felt like the song his class had been practicing—silent, calm, and bright. A heavenly peace that dissolved as his heart began to race.

Colton slowly pulled on the brass handles of the cabinet’s cathedral-like doors. Wood and metal ground together as they opened, revealing shelves crowded with papers, books, and forgotten trinkets. In the top corner sat a single drawer, no bigger than a shoebox.

“What are you looking for, Colt?” Hadley asked. She’d settled by the fireplace, knees tucked to her chest.

The birch log crackled, and the flames, starved for oxygen, cast a haunting orange flicker across her face. The clock on the mantel was a few ticks away from both hands meeting at twelve. Nearby, cinnamon and clove drifted from the potpourri bowl.

Colton hated the smell, not because it was bad, but because every December his mother turned strict the moment she set out that dish. She’d spend evenings in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon like a sword, reminding the twins that Christmas could disappear if they didn’t behave.

Colton didn’t want to take any chances. If the number-one thing on his Christmas list was in the house, he’d lock himself in his room—away from Hadley—to make sure nothing went wrong.

“I think there’s a super secret gift in here,” Colton said. “I heard Mom and Dad talking about moving something from their closet to the top of the cabinet. Mom said something about… presence.”

“Our presents? In there?”

Colton shrugged, his eyes locked on the drawer. “They sounded really sneaky, like right before they got us the dog. So if the video game I want is in here, I’m not waiting until next week to find out.”

He balanced on the edge of the stool, rising onto his toes until he was nearly eye-level with the drawer. When he slid it open, a musty smell wafted down and tickled his nose.

His face wrinkled as he tried to hold it in.

The sneeze forced its way out.

His elbow jerked forward into a row of encyclopedias. They toppled like dominoes, the last one crashing into a spoon rack. The wooden frame pitched forward, sending silver missiles clattering to the hardwood below.

Both siblings froze.

In the silence, the mantel clock ticked steadily—loud and slow. Then came a low groan, like something waking up in the walls.

Fear prickled at the back of Colton’s neck. His eyes locked on the stairs, searching the shadows for the sway of a robe or nightgown. Nothing moved. Instead, cold machinery hummed to life below him. Burnt dust and heat pushed through the vent as the furnace rumbled, shaking the floorboards like a warning to stop whatever he was doing.

Both children sagged in relief, letting out the breath they’d been holding.

Colton stretched out his arm and blindly dipped his hand into the drawer. His fingertips patted across the bottom until they brushed up against something cold and metal. At first, it was thin and round, but as he followed its shape, it grew fatter with tiny grooves. He tried to close his fingers around it, but from this angle he couldn’t get a clean grip. The stool wobbled beneath him.

Desperate to know what was inside, Colton clutched the front of the drawer with both hands. The wood creaked and protested as he pulled himself up like he was doing a chin-up.

Pale moonlight washed over the contents. No plastic video game case in sight. Instead, a strange, curved metal thing with tiny battery slots. In the dim light, it looked like part of a robot. Or maybe a tool for building one.

Before his arms gave out, he spotted a block of wood. A small gold button sat in the centre, its surface embossed with the name Colt and the outline of a horse.

“What do you see?” Hadley asked, excitement lighting up her face.

“I don’t know,” Colton said, lowering himself. “But it’s got my name on it and looks like it cost way more than any game.”

“That’s not fair,” Hadley whined, pushing herself up from the floor. “I want my present early.”

“Shut up,” Colton hissed. “You’re going to wreck this for both of us.”

“Jerk.”

Hadley’s foot wound up and kicked the stool. The wood squeaked as it skidded, the jolt knocking Colton off balance. He grabbed for the drawer, fingers clawing at the edges, but his weight pulled it free from the cabinet. For a moment, he hung there—then both crashed to the floor.

Colton landed hard on the scattered spoons, while the drawer smashed apart on impact.

BANG.

An explosion ripped through the silence. The warm scent of cinnamon and clove was overpowered by a sharp metallic tang.

Colton groaned on the floor. His shirt darkened as a crimson pool spread beneath him.

Hadley’s scream tore through the room, echoing off the walls. Above them, footsteps pounded toward the stairs.

Colton’s vision blurred. In the moonlight, the last thing he saw was his present lying on the floor, glowing and smoking where the drawer had shattered.

A polished revolver with a gold button on the handle.

COLT.