The Magic Bag

One day I was walking through the streets where there was a big festival going on. I was looking at all the stands looking for something interesting to buy and I eventually made it to the street where the festival ended. But then, I saw a stand; the stand was far from the others, but looked very interesting, so I walked over. At the stand there was a man who had a hood on which obstructed his face, and he was carrying many shiny bags. "Would you like to buy a bag?" he said.

"What's so special about these bags?" I asked. The man then picked up one of the bags and began to fill it. He put some suitcases and boxes in the bag. This amazed me, as I wondered how he could fit so many things into such a small bag. I wanted one of his bags now. I picked up one of the bags, and it felt warm like a warm sunny day; I really wanted it. I was about to ask how much the bag would cost, but the stand had vanished. I took the bag and began to walk home.

I quickly called over my friends and showed them the trick. They were amazed at how I fit suitcases and even chairs into the bag, which was no bigger than a coffee table. When my friends left, I placed the bag near my bedroom door and fell asleep. The next morning I woke up and found the bag right beside my head, which was weird because my bed is nowhere near the door. I went into the bathroom to take a shower, and when I finished my shower, the bag was right outside the bathroom door. I was getting somewhat nervous but continued on with my morning. I went down to my kitchen and made some breakfast, but as I was eating, I heard a strange thumping noise coming from upstairs. As soon as I got off my chair to see what was going on, the bag came tumbling down the stairs. At this point I was scared; someone must have been in my house. When I went upstairs I found nobody.

Nothing happened then until I fell asleep. I had a dream where the bag was following me through my house. I ran into the bedroom, and the hooded man who sold me the bag was right in front of me. He reached for his hood and pulled it down, and I screamed. His face was horribly decomposed, as if dead for years, maggots crawling freely through his face, chomping on the rotting flesh oozing with pus. He then said, in a low, demonic tone, "You wanted the bag."

I woke up after that. When I opened my door and the bag was outside, where it had stopped in my dream, I just wanted to get rid of it. I walked over to my friends house and gave him the bag, while telling him to burn it, or get rid of it somehow. That was the last I ever saw of that horrible magic bag.

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