The Box was my home.
We lived in harmony: I clapped, and it would move;
The Box clapped, and I would move.
Most of the time it was dark. It was always
lonely. I sat on a bench. There was a bench in my box. It wasn't
there before, until it was. I liked the bench; it felt smooth, unlike
the rough wood you might find on a park bench. Sometimes, the hard
wood was uncomfortable, but it was better than the cold floor. I
hated the floor.
Once there was a snake.
A red and black fiend, it was. It did not hiss,
but merely say the onomatopoeic word; “Hiss”. I looked at the
serpent, and it stared back at me, its dark eyes gazing into my own.
It blended into the floor, with only its red stripes glaring at me
through the darkness. “Hiss?” it said, cocking its head.
I cracked its skull beneath my steel-capped
boots and it said “hiss” no more.
The Box was mine, and mine alone. No-one else knew
where my Box was, but me. Sometimes even I wasn't sure where it was;
I can't go outside. “You
cannot leave,” The Box had said. I could hear the
outside; indiscernible voices, footsteps, traffic. I thought it was
raining once; I could hear something tap-tap-tapping on the sides and
top. No water came through, though. Maybe it wasn't rain.
Once there was a windy day.
The box trembled and fell on its side, throwing
me across it. I landed, hard, on the wall...the floor...top? I wasn't
sure, but The Box would not stop moving and only the deafening
whistle from outside could be heard. I was in pain; covered in
bruises, scrapes and blood.
Since then, I didn't
know where in The Box I stood; it was impossible to know, all the
sides were identical in their coldness, their blandness and their
darkness. Possibly on the port-side. It didn't feel like starboard.
The Box was kind to me;
it was my friend. At night, food would come from nowhere, even if it
was half-eaten, dry and cold. Obviously The Box wanted to try some
first. Sometimes I felt it didn't need to eat, but obviously it did.
We weren't always
friends.
Once, The Box clapped.
I had only met The Box for an hour or so before
I moved in. It was a week later when it clapped. The sides of The Box
buckled inwards, before expanding outwards. There was a huge BANG,
like an explosion, from outside. I looked around, my heart beating
faster than it had before. The sides of The Box rushed inwards, and
I threw myself to the ground, hoping that they wouldn't crush me.
They did not, but the pain of it made me wish that they did. Bones
cracked and strained, maybe even broke; I don't know, I'm not a
doctor. The walls rushed out again. I breathed a sigh of relief. But
then it continued. Clap. Clap. Clap.
But that's behind us
now. We were fine after that. Sometimes it clapped when it was
annoyed with me, but it never hurt me as much. Sometimes I clapped. I
don't think I hurt it but it shied away from the sound, the top
shooting higher up for a moment, making the sound echo around The
Box.
I got off of the bench
and crawled across The Box as part of my exercise regime. I looked
back at the bench, which was not there. I ignored its absence and sat
on the floor.
And as I sat on the
cold, hard floor, I heard a voice, clearly this time:
“Spare change sir?”
