[WP] A 10 year old child places an item in the school time capsule, confident that it will make him incredibly wealthy when it's opened in 50 years

One by one, each child stood up at the front of the room, each with their own story to tell about their time capsule object. Even though we were all a bit old for show-and-tell (that stuff's for little kids!), it was like the excitement of sharing was re-ignited all over again.

"My mom and I like making cookies together with my younger siblings. I wanted to put cookies in, but I figured they would just get moldy in there." The class laughed. "So my mom said it would be better to just put pictures in there." He passed around photos of deformed gingerbread men, lopsided shortbread snowmen, and easter eggs with too many sprinkles, all crafted with love and care. In one picture, a mother smiled as three little faces and smeared with chocolate chip dough smiled back at her.

"Here's some pictures I drew of things that mean a lot to me. This one is of my dog Bowser, this one is of my family, and this one is of my nan, this one is of me and my friends playing," she said, holding up each coloured sheet as she named them. "I want to be a famous artist when I grow up. I think it would be cool to look at the stuff I drew when I was a kid." I remember that each object was coloured in meticulously, afraid to show the white paper underneath.

"I used to like collecting marbles a lot," he said, "Now, not so much. But they are some pretty sweet-looking marbles, so I figure I'd put them in. I have nowhere else to put them." As the jar was passed around and gently shaken, we all marveled at the way the light bubbled and swirled in many different colours.

Next was Conor's turn.

"My big brother has some baseball cards that are supposed to be worth a lot of money, and he says that they'll be worth even more in the future. I don't have any of those, but I figure Pokemon cards have gotta be worth something in 50 years, right?"

As we passed the clear plastic sheet full of cards around, I recall vaguely that Mrs. O'Neill suggested that a time capsule wasn't the best place for this, that it would be best stored safely at home; that a time capsule was meant for fond memories to be looked back upon. Conor shrugged and said, "Well then, maybe I want to remember the moment I got my foil Charizard."

I didn't object; that Charizard was pretty awesome. What kid could resist glittering foil? And plus, getting that card was a pretty impressive stroke of luck.

Ugh. I hated Calculus. If I didn't need it to get into college, I would have taken something easy instead. Like Philosophy or something. I heard that the teacher for that was pretty lax.

That was life for all of us. School sucked. Drama sucked. Life sucked. Being hormonal sucked. We would all rather just run off to the next party (or the next book club or whatever, for those of us who hated parties).

Not Conor. He was always dreaming big, always trying to promote his latest website, or startup, or underwater basket weaving course, or spider ladder business, or whatever crazy scheme he had going. His ideas would inevitably fail due to one reason or another.

I was a bit of a sucker for the crazy ones though. And there was just- something to him, you know? It was as if he was immune to all the drama. Maybe his lofty idealism lifted him above all the mundane. I stuck around him like a moth to a flame, even after we broke up.

"This class, this bunch?" he said at the graduation ceremony, in front of all the smiling parents with cameras, "We've all failed. We've all screwed up. Because we're human. But we keep getting up. Because we are meant for great things. We can do anything."

We kept in touch, even though we left for different colleges. I went and did my degree in computer science. I worked for a big security firm for a while, but that didn't catch my interest.

Conor went to a prestigious school of business, but never stayed long. Not that he needed it. He latched on pretty early to the whole 3D printing thing.

"Hey, could you do me a favor?" He said to me over the phone, "Me and the guys have a Kickstarter going."

"Haha, are you looking for me to help invest in some spider ladder business?" I teased.

He laughed, and said, "No, no spiders. Unless you wanted a 3D-printed circuit board in the shape of a spider."

The news hit hard: Conor died in a car crash the previous night.

Our former clients and business partners dropped by with flowers and cards, inundating the office with store-bought condolences.

We couldn't believe it: we were always planning the next update, the next product, the next partnership, the next... it was hard to think of what was next now. There was this giant wall standing in the present that made it hard to see the future.

We lost more than a colleague or boss. We lost a leader, a mentor, and a dear friend.

Many years later, at our old elementary school, I stood in a crowd with faces I hardly recognized anymore. My former classmates and I exchanged friendly, but ultimately distanced, updates on each other's lives. Fred had married Meg, Lou was hoping to get a promotion, Jen switched careers for the umpteenth time.

Then we started reminiscing about the past. Remember that giant prank with the boys' bathroom in 5th grade? Remember when Mr. Robinson brought the entire class Japanese candies? Remember that song Sarah was forced to sing when she was late for class?

When they finally opened up the capsule, all the memories came rushing back. Every item was a blast from the past.

Well, except for one thing.

There was a sheet of Pokemon cards with a bright, shiny foil Charizard in the centre.

That ended up being much longer than I had planned. Oh by the way: Spider ladders? Totally real. Why? No clue.

/r/WritingPrompts Thread