Let me tell you the story of the kid with a box on his head. A square cardboard box, with little holes, not big enough for seeing, but enough for breathing. It had one distinctly bigger hole, which was for the food tube. As he grew taller and his head grew bigger, it was the most delicate operation to transfer between different sized boxes. The boy never spoke, never said a thing, so the decision to upgrade boxes, was based on normal growth patterns. Sometimes his doctors got the calculations wrong, and they cringed at his awful discomfort. They cringed at their egregious errors.1
You see when he was a born; he cried and cried and cried. As babies do, you might say. No, not as babies do. He cried till his lungs started to bleed and his heart rate went to dangerous levels, deathly levels. The crying stopped at night time, only to start afresh at first light. The greatest doctors from around the world descended upon this odd baby. Carrying many a vast encyclopaedia of medical knowledge in their brains but also in their hands, desks, shelves and the least tidiest amongst them, their floors, they couldn't work it out. One day, this poor baby took a turn for the worse, crying so much, didn't leave time for a lot of breathing and he knocked himself unconscious. So half the world’s doctors surrounded him, at his bedside, muttering and murmuring medical jargon. A nurse came to attend him. The doctors barely noticed her, so deep in their thoughts and condescension. She said whilst doing her job, rather flippantly I might say2
"Maybe he doesn't like the light."3
You could hear the sounds of many light bulbs breaking above furrowed brows, as the collective wave of group eureka took over and, the doctors said4
"Of Course, he doesn't like the light."5
They gave each other pats on the back, and congratulated themselves on their learned brilliance. The poor nurse's existence wasn't acknowledged, but like most nurses, she was just happy doing her job.6
His mother was ecstatically happy, for now they found the root of the problem. His father had secretly hoped, so secretly he hadn't yet admitted it to himself that his son would die, they would mourn, try for a more normal son. His mother's happiness was short lived, once the tragedy of the condition strongly manifested itself in her mind. What kind of life could he lead, with such an affliction? His father's bitter disappointment reached satanic depths, in its intensity. The family was poor and didn't have medical insurance. How were they to afford such an unusual condition? Both parents were united in seeing their lives slip away from them. They were united in the tears, as they sobbed over each others shoulders.7
The doctors thought long and hard about the problem, as a baby was shut away in a room lit with black light, they had the opportunity to demonstrate their skill at artful posing. Some stood straight with the butt of one arm cupped in the hand of another, the arms configured in an L shape, with the forefinger and thumb wrapped around the edge of the chin, head side on and the eyes faraway. Others found themselves soaking into their light cherry leather eames lounge chair, the ottoman pushed away, so they could rest one foot on the tip of an kneecap, gap between legs triangular, with the heel forming one vertex. Of course the train of their white lab coats, cast over the supported leg for a foppish insouciance. Those who wished for more refinement got themselves a pipe to smoke, again the eyes were far away. The most popular arrangement was Rodin's "The thinker".8
It must have helped, as a breakthrough occurred, it was deduced that given the poor financial standing of the family, that all problems would be solved by the humble cardboard box. Not only useful as affordable housing, it can now demonstrate it's versatility on the medical stage. And so it came to be.9
What initially quietened him was the lack of stimulus. The silence and the darkness. His sensitivity made him feel the world at absolute high volume, if they left him alone, maybe, he would have learnt to deal with it, maybe he would have died. He grew used to the box. Got addicted to his whole world being defined by 4 sharp right angles and the faintly felt sensation of brown. He never spoke, there was nothing to say. Moments when the box was removed, he felt sheer pain, every kind of pain. The transference process from box to box, was difficult for everyone concerned. Later the removal and replacement of the box was done under sedation, it was easier that way, for everyone.10
He was now 23 and walking to the shop with his mother. The intervening years had been cruel. His father had left him and his mother and remarried. His father now had a normal son, of which he could fully invest his love in and, had no need to visit his first born, ever.11
His mother had never given up on him. She read him books, stories, recited the news, to keep him engaged with the world. Tried her best to show him the possibility of obtuse angles. One day she was on the way shopping, with her somewhat dysfunctional son. On the other side of the street was an old friend, one she hadn't seen in 5 months. So for once, she forgot about her son and went across for a good old fashioned girly chat.12
Now our protagonist just kept walking in a straight line, he had learnt to assume his mother's guidance. He walked straight into the road.13
A woman of 20 was driving her car, when unexpectedly, a man walked in front of her. Normally she would have hit the brakes in time, but she was startled by the cardboard box atop his head. The crash was an awful sound. The smell of tyre marks on the road was intoxicating in a carbon kind of way. She ran out and by his side, guessing he might need some air, she removed the box.14
The conversation was drawing to a disappointing climax, disappointing enough to re-enlighten her maternal instinct. She panicked. She screamed15
"Oh no, what have I done?"16
Frighteningly retracing her steps, she saw her son, supine on the road. There was a crowd of people, eagerly enjoying the show. The ambulance was approximately 30 minutes away, too late? Possibly. She ran frantically, with her arms swinging wildly shouting17
"Put his box back on18
Put his box back on19
What have you done20
To my only son."21
As any normal lady would do, when faced with an injured man with a cardboard box on his head, she removed it. His eyes never opened, he never made a sound. Tears started to trickle down her face. "Don't die, please don't die." she said. As her eyes rested on his face, one of the most miraculous things happened. One of those twists of fate, which makes the universe a sometimes hospitable place. Helped by her regret but then spurred on by genuine feeling she said22
"Don't die, please don't die, because I love you."23
His eyes opened for the first time in about 23 years, so did his ears. At first the light and sound was overwhelming. For a few seconds he slipped back into blindness, deafness. When he came to his senses, he found a new way to protect himself from the harsh indifference of the world. He no longer had to filter his experience through the remains of dead trees.24
You see the nurse had got it badly badly wrong, as nurses are apt to do, when they venture out into the vast area, that lies outside their medical expertise. Indeed, his crumbling alveoli and the strain of his little heart were just the symptoms of something far more subtle. It slipped past every ones attention that in the first 5 minutes of holding him, his mother never told him she loved him. No baby has the defences to protect themselves from the coldness of the world, and the mother is meant to provide that protection with the 3 special words. This has been the way, since creation. No one notices when things go wrong, because they very rarely do. What with him living inside a cardboard box, there was very little motivation for anyone to say the words, what with hardly ever seeing his beautiful eyes. Until now. Question is, how much longer?25
Author notes
Inspired by an image in a film of a kid playing around with a box on his head, I then just explored the possibilities, stream of conciousness style.
The long sentences form a crucial part of the story telling style.
Do tell me what you think generally, and what message of the story is, if any. How succesfully did I make you inhabit my strange little world?
The fairytale lies in the fantastic and unrealistic choice of events, using unusual set ups to tell a story and argue several points.
If you can, at read at least one paragraph aloud, for the sound of the prose is as important an element as anything else. In some ways, it just a really long poem.
If you like, please check out my other stories, there's just 2 !
If you got any questions, or interesting criticisms please drop me a line.
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 29 of 29
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OUTSTANDING
I really liked this i am one of those that gets lost in a story if it is good. I read three books a day and the moral which i think is the love we need to show to each other or we are in darkness is so right for this time -
Thanks, I've only written two others, they're quite different there's not gaurantee, that if you like this, you'll like them. I.m really glad you enjoyed the story.
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Awesome!!!!!!Spectacular!!!!!!!
I was gripped from the beginning of this story to the very end of it. How horrid to go through life without the maternal bonding that is so desperately needed and how wonderful that she realized she loved him at his almost demise I loved the way you created this tale with such indifference to the stigma placed on the child from his father's abandonment and all the minute details you afford the reader you did an excellent job and I enjoyed reading it so much I look forward to reading more of your stories in the near future. -
I liked this one very much. It's frsh and different and yet have a philosophical reality behind it that is excellent. We as people don't fully realize that as babies and toddlers, we are the most helpless things and as human beings...simple "caring for" is not enough. That old fashioned ability to think and need for social acceptence is inborn just as is the knowledge of how to fly for a bee and walk for a horse.
Ecellent write. Best wishes and
s... ~genielassie~
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No it's not part of the contest, I have just become more efficient at marketing myself. Glad you liked it.
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Interesting... I really like your style... very cool
Is this part of the contest too? Or did you just want people to read it? -
I appreciate your opinion. Thanks.
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Details are good, but not when they distract from the story. Some of your details take away form your story, like the beginning paragraph. I think you were trying to segway into the story with a flashback but they way you worded your first paragraph didn't quite work.....just my opinion
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Nice to have some feedback, but I completley disagree. I delight in minute details, it's a feature of the entire story not just the first few paragraphs. Although story and plot are important, I like just standing still and contemplating, taking apart, trying to add a richness to an not very believable setup. Without the explaining and description I felt the later parts of the story wouldn't be convincing enough, also the varying of pace, is I think a key element. Is not "Let me tell you the story of the kid with a box on his head" catchy enough? However I do seriously enjoy a good difference of opinion it makes me think afresh about the decisions I made whilst writing. I really appreciate the comment, thanks for being specific and if you want to read something more sparse please do read allpoetry.com/Story/1432998. Thanks again
Edited on Aug 22, 12:16 because ''. -
The first couple of paragraphs drag, I think its because you're trying to over describe things, did that make sense? The story is wonderful, but the beginning should be catchy so the reader will continue to the end and want to keep reading. The first paragraph doesn't really fit.....you give all of this background about holes in the box and fitting new ones on as he grows and it's not really needed.
Edited on Aug 21, 7:38 p.m. because ''. -
If you could, tell me which parts drag for you, what needs to be developed more. Thanks for being honest.
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I really did enjoy this story. Although some parts need to be developed a bit more, they tend to drag on a bit. I liked the aha moment here. I liked how you made it a narration.
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Thanks, and cos you're a fine art student, you could get the art jokes. Glad you liked it.
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i dont know where to start listing the adjectives. Simple yet intriguing and inspiring.
You definetly got it right with this write
awesome stuff!! keep it up!
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Thrilling and mindbending
Good writes get the juice going again, and this was one. A cardboard box, indeed? -
Thanks for the in depth comment, you're absolutely right this was about normality as much as about oddness. You also picked up on my little ironic flourishes. Dont worry about the box pun, I was asking for it really. Thanks again.
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i love it i love it i love it!
This story makes my heart swell, i love the simplicity of it, you don't get lost in trying to work out all the links and twists blah blah blah, instead you're left thinking about how the bizarrness actually makes it seem so much more 'everyday' and 'normal'. it reveals so much about characters and roles people have. we are really lucky to be able to hear those three little words - 'i love you'
I really liked the whole square-cut almost clinical angles you pick up on throughout (witht he box, the positions the doctors sit in etc), it makes you realise you have to 'think outside the box' if you excuse the pun!
brilliant! xx -
I'm glad you can find inspiration in something I've written, you are the first person to explicitly note the symbolism, which was a major part of how I wanted this story to work. Thanks.
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unique and amazing
Woow!!! That was so inspiring! It's so unusual to read something like this. There is so much symbolism in this. -
Thanks for letting me know what you think of the story, much appreciated.
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Well uhmm WOW... that was interesting....uhmm wow
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I'm glad that you enjoyed the story and gave it an considered reading. Rewrote a paragraph. Anyways Thanks.
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Well, this story had me spellbound! I really love how you let your fantasy run free with the box and still maintain a very good story with a strong message. The things love can do uh? Or should I say: lack of love? Great story.
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I had to have the dark streak to stop the story getting syrupy, I find the light more interesting when the dark is not too far behind. Cool you liked it, thanks.
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The message of this is beautiful. I really enjoyed it.. it was surrealistic and interesting. There is this odd dark streak to it that I really enjoyed, without bogging the story down with too much unneccesary imagery. Bold and well written. I love it!
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That is the main message of the story, glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for the comment.
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awesome
oh wow! such a different story,never saw one quite like this..certainly drew my attention through out it.
what we don't say til we have a trauma in our lives..love is a strength,i acknowledge to most people,thank you for sharing,love and peace..tranquality..Linda -
Thank you, I was beggining to think that, no one would follow me into my land of wierdness. You really got it, I was trying to mix lots of things in it, so parts of it are a bit horror/nigtmarish. Thanks also for the correction.
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WoW! This is quite the story! You did a wonderful job of keeping my attention here. I did see an error near the end, in the last paragraph... "his mother never told him he loved him". I think you meant to say SHE. This is quite chilling when you think about the consequences. Great job!!
♥ Kimberly
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