All comments appreciated! 
The Box
The stairs creak, complaining loudly as I step up the narrow staircase. I reach a hand out to try the door at the top, but of course it is locked. It is chilly in the stairwell and my hands shake slightly as I fumble with the keys. As the door swings open, I hold my breath in expectation.
As my eyes adjust and the room unfolds itself before my eyes, I feel a rush of disappointment. There is nothing here, save for a thick coating of dust, and a small box in the corner. Light from the one dirty window filters down through the cobwebs, momentarily blinding me as I step forward. The eaves slant sharply and I am forced to bend over to keep my head from brushing the ceiling. I pick it up. It is unbelievably heavy for its size, and I have to use two hands to hold it. It is made of a dark red wood, possibly maple, and its top is inlaid with many different colored chips. It is wonderful. I stand up, and suddenly a pulsating energy shoots through my fingers. I jump back, still holding on, but startled. I stare at it in amazement for a minute, wondering if I had imagined it. I hesitate, wondering if I should leave it where I found it… No one has been up here for years and some things would be better left undisturbed. Finally I make up my mind and I walk slowly out of the room. It doesn’t happen again as I travel down the attic stairs to my bedroom.
I run my hands reverently over the dark wooden surface. It feels smooth and cool to my touch. Slowly, I lift it up above my head, studying the bottom. I marvel again at how incredibly heavy it is for something that fits in the palms of my two hands. I sit down on the end of my bed, feeling it sag slightly beneath my weight. I set the box on my lap, setting my fingers into the grooves on top of the lid. I have no idea how to open it, but I feel that there is something extremely important contained inside. My fingers move around the edge, searching for a catch. Nothing. Then, suddenly, I feel it. That strange pulsing energy again travels up my outstretched fingertips, making my hands vibrate. I pull away, fearful of what might be inside. Despite my curiosity, I have the foolish notion that the feeling it coming from the box. I contemplate for a minute. Should I put it back where I found it? But no, there is something inside it, and I have to see it, to know what it is. I push my fingers into the groove around the side of the box again, trying to feel for something, a way to make it open. Finally! A soft click. I am almost there! I strain, trying to force the swollen wood open.
“Susan! Dinner’s ready!”
It is my mother calling from downstairs. I am so absorbed in what I am doing, that her voice catches me completely by surprise and I start violently, dropping the box. I wince, watching in slow motion as it falls.
Surprisingly, it doesn’t crack as I would have expected, but bounces on the floor with a dull thud. My mother calls again.
“Susan?”
I ignore her, grabbing for it; picking it up in my hands once more. For a minute I think that the energy is gone, but a second later I feel the same throbbing hum and smile, caressing the smooth wood. I hear my mother on the stairs, coming up to see what I’m doing. I step over to the door and close it, wishing I had a lock. I never take my eyes off the box. It throbs again, and it is an uncomfortable feeling this time, like my arms are jarring in their sockets. I try to put it down on the bed, but I can’t. I have to get it open.
My hands shaking of their own accord, I run my fingers over the glossy wood one last time, feeling for a way to get it open. Abruptly I feel it give under my hand, and with a creaking sound it opens. With a feeling of intense gratification I sink to the floor, staring into the depths of its insides. At first I think there is nothing there, but as I put my hands inside the interior of the box, I feel the same wild energy of before. It is more powerful now, and it runs up my arms to my shoulders, and then down my back until my whole body is shaking. From somewhere far away I hear the doorknob turning, but I can’t turn my head to look. It is too late. I see a flash of light, and then nothing.
Late afternoon sunlight filters through a closed window as a woman steps forward, a frown on her face.
“Susan?”
But the small room is obviously empty. There is a bed in the corner, and a small nightstand. There is nowhere to hide. Confusion turning to annoyance, the woman moved toward the door to the attic. Could her daughter be up there? She is about to call out again, but her foot strikes something hard, lying on the floor. She bends over and picks it up, running her callused hands over its surface. Her mouth opens slightly as she breathes in slowly.
“Beautiful.” She speaks in a whisper, and stares at the box as if she is in a trance. Her eyes glazed over, she fits her hands under the lid, searching for a way to open it.
I appreciate it. I dunno if I mentioned this before, but this was kinda a spur-of-the-moment piece, so I probably do have to go back and do some serious editing.
Could easily be saved by changing to something like "as my eyes adjust, the room unfolds itself and I feel a rush of disappointment." I love the way you said unfolds itself", though. 
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