Another day, another time to clean!

Come to think of it, you haven't checked what's inside the basement since forever! Who knows that there might be a whole thriving ecosystem, or maybe there might be a group of teens using your basement as a hangout party, only God knows unless you check.

You walk down the basement through stairs, but suddenly something compels you to be wary. You felt goosebumps all across your skin. Nevertheless, you still continue to walk.

As you reach the basement floor, you see a box in a middle of the area. Just a singular cardboard box in a middle of a cobweb-filled room.

Half of you is curious of what's inside the box, and the other half says to leave it behind.

Ya know? There's really no reason for me to come down here. A mess, like fine wine, should be allowed to age. Oh, wait; that's really a very lame excuse. Here's a better one -- I've avoided the basement for many months; what's the problem with a few more? That's a little better. Why am I so afraid of this dark, damp, dreary dungeon? The spiders like it; why shouldn't I?

Oh, come on. It's time I got this job done.

What's this box? I don't remember ever seeing it. What will happen if I nudge it with my foot? Well, the box didn't whimper like a puppy or hiss like a miniature dragon. I guess there aren't any animals in it. I didn't hear anything rattle, like broken dishes. I suppose I should just go ahead and open it.

I take out my pocketknife and slice the packaging tape. Okay, nothing terrible happened. I'm just being silly to be so scared.

I lift the top.

The first thing I see is just a large wad of crumpled brown kraft paper. Padding material, to protect the mysterious contents.

Under the brown paper, there are some more papers. Old maps, including one of someplace called the Fergana Valley. Central Asia. A guide book to Samarkand. A journal, filled with writing and sketches.

I set the papers aside. The next item I find is a golden-brown teak box. Hey, maybe this is a jewelry box, filled with treasure! I quickly open it and find ... a mariner's compass and a sextant, both wrapped in soft wool felt.

What else is here? Books. Seven Years in Tibet, by Heinrich Harrer. Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea and The Snows of Kilimanjaro. Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Two Years Before the Mast, by Richard Dana. More travel and adventure books, some fiction and some not. No wonder the box felt so heavy.