Once there was a girl who wanted to send a magical note to the future. She picked up her quill pen and dipped it in ink, but the words didn’t feel big enough. A note could be lost or forgotten. What she really wanted was something more—something like a treasure chest. So, she decided to make a time capsule.
She chose a large jewelry box, smooth and shiny, and opened it carefully. She planned to bury it in her backyard. Instead of gold or jewels, she placed a small swatch of her braided hair inside. It felt strange to leave a piece of herself behind, but it also felt right. This box would hold her memories.
Next, she pressed a flower inside her favorite book of poems about roses and daisies. She closed the pages gently and laid the book at the bottom of the box. On top of it, she placed her grandfather’s pocket watch, its golden chain curling like a sleepy snake. She liked to imagine it ticking away, even when no one was listening.
Then, she added sheet music to a song she had written all by herself, one note at a time. She wrapped her quill pen and slid it into an empty corner. The feather had come from an eagle she once saw near its nest, and she believed it gave the pen a quiet kind of magic.
Last, she picked up her tiny teddy bear, Freddie. He wore one of her socks as a shirt and had been with her for as long as she could remember. She hugged him once before placing him in the box. Maybe someone in the future would need him more than she did. She could sense that even now.
Sometimes the future made her worried and sad, and she felt a strong need to send light into the unknown. Grown-ups talked in low voices these days, and it felt so heavy when they did.
When everything was inside, she closed the lid. She sealed it with wax and carved the date and her name into the top. Then she wrapped the box in cloth, paper, and twine.
In the backyard, next to the swing set, she dug a hole and buried the time capsule beneath the dirt. As she filled the hole, she wondered who might find it someday. Would they laugh? Would they be curious? Would they understand her?
The afternoon smelled like cut grass and rain. The swing set creaked, moving even though no one was on it.
Before covering the time capsule completely, she smiled, thinking of the picture she had slipped inside—one of herself at fourteen. Time would keep moving forward, changing everything it touched. But deep down, she hoped that some part of her would always stay the same.
She placed a plaque above the capsule that read: TIME STOOD STILL: Open sometime between now and one hundred years from today. Then she drew a treasure map and hid it in another part of the backyard. She didn’t want anyone to miss the plaque.
She packed the dirt down with her hands and brushed the soil from her knees. Then, she rested her palm on the ground, right where the box lay hidden.
And for the first time all day, the future didn’t feel quite so far away.
For a moment, she wondered if she was doing something foolish—burying pieces of herself instead of keeping them close. But the feeling passed.
“I don’t want to forget,” she said softly, as if the box could hear her.
“Wait for the person who needs you,” she whispered.
Many years later, when she was old and gray, she returned to the backyard with a shovel and her grandchildren. She rested her palm on the empty earth again, just as she had done long ago, and felt the warmth rise up to meet her.
Together, they unearthed the time capsule and opened it in the sunlight.
As she lifted each familiar object from the box—the flower, the watch, the tiny bear—memories came rushing back. She smiled, holding them close.
Long ago, she had made the time capsule for someone in the future. She hadn’t known then that she would be the one who needed it most.
The future had been waiting for her all along.
Copyright 2015 Jennifer Waters
LOGLINE
A thoughtful girl creates a time capsule filled with the pieces of herself she fears might be lost to time, only to discover years later that the gift she sent to the future was meant for her all along.
PITCH
When a young girl feels the weight of an uncertain future, she decides a note is not enough to preserve what matters most. Instead, she builds a time capsule—a quiet treasure chest filled with the objects that define her childhood: a lock of hair, a pressed flower, a beloved book of poems, a pocket watch, a song she has written, and a tiny teddy bear she can barely part with. Buried in her backyard beneath a swing set, the capsule becomes her way of sending light forward in time. Years later, now old and gray, she returns with her grandchildren to unearth what she once left behind and discovers that the memories she preserved were not for a stranger at all, but for the person she would one day become.
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