“Cassie,” Miss Bollinger said, “why don’t you come up here and show us what you brought for show and tell?”

Clutching a hefty box in her arms, the girl stepped forward. She ignored the glaring from the other children as she placed the box on the front table. It seemed to be made of wood and bore painted animal patterns in red and blue lacquer. On its front was a latch.

“My, that’s big!” Miss Bollinger said. “Can you tell us what it is?”

The girl stared lazily at nothing in particular. “It’s a mystery box.”

“What’s inside the box?”

“A mystery.”

A few of the children giggled, and the kindly kindergarten teacher saw that she would have to try a different tack. “Can you tell us more about your mystery box?”

“More about my mystery box?”

“Yes. For example, where did you get your mystery box? Did someone give it to you?”

“A woman.”

“What kind of woman?”

“A nice woman.”

“Is she … in your family?”

“No.”

“Where did she give it to you?”

“On the street.”

“On the street?”

The girl spent a moment in thought. “Yeah.”

“Well, that’s very kind of her,” Miss Bollinger said brightly. “Why did you choose to bring the mystery box to-day?”

“I dunno.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Okay,” said Miss Bollinger. “Well, I think the class would love to see what’s inside the mystery box. Would you like to show us?”

The girl unlatched the box and lifted the cover. Immediately a giant tentacle shot out of the box, waving its suckers as it swept across the room, sending the whole class into hysterics. There was clearly more tentacle than the box could physically hold; its length seemed to be limitless. A second tentacle shot out and coiled itself around the girl, gurgling and pulsating wetly.

Then as quickly as they had burst into life, they retracted like a violent tape measure back into the box, the girl vanishing into the bottomless void of the box along with them. The box closed.