Life in a Box (flash fiction)

This is a piece of flash fiction I wrote for the Inspiration Monday post at Be Kind Rewrite:

Check it out here

Life in a Box

I was in the box for a long time. I’m not really sure how I got there. I sort of remember, vaguely, a lot of tumbling around, being upside-down and nearly suffocated, shoved up against hard bodies, and then grabbed, shaken and dropped into a pile of lightweight fluffy stuff.  It got very dark; I was inside some sort of a bag in a box, surrounded by circles made out of a soft material.  Everything was still.

I rested for a while, but suddenly we were moving again. The box I was in changed orientation a lot, upside down, on its side, right side up, but I was stuck, suspended between the circles. I didn’t know how long I’d be there, and I began to panic. I breathed deeply, trying to calm my nerves. It will be okay. I told myself. Visualize—um, visualize—what? I didn’t know my name, who I was, or where I was going. And I didn’t know what life should look like, so it the effort to visualize it was useless.

I wondered if I should try to escape. Maybe I was being taken to my death. Maybe I had been taken captive, and I would be held prisoner in some remote island. Tortured! Wait, wait, I told myself. Breathe. Calm down. Besides, escape was clearly not an option, at least not now.

The box I was in would rest, and then move again. Eventually, I began to hear voices around me. And at last, just a few minutes ago, there was loud talking and the box I was in was lifted and shaken. I felt the air suddenly change around me as the top of the box was opened and turned upside down. I tumbled out with a bunch of the circles. Hands grabbed me, held me up. Two eyes were right in front of me, large and blue.

“OH COOL! I don’t have this one yet!”

“Bobby, eat that cereal before you start to play.”

The hands put me down on my feet, and at last I am standing up, free. So now I’m looking around at my new home. Bobby shovels the circles into his mouth and stares at me. I’m out of the box, and it looks like life is going to work out for me after all. Bobby seems like a nice little boy. He won’t torture me. Right?

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