Lunoir

1. Once, there was a girl who lived in a box.

Once, there was a girl who lived in a box. Not a large box, or a metaphorical box, but a rather small cardboard box. This made her sad.
She wondered if there was anything outside of the box. She created worlds in her dreams, worlds where she ran free through the land. Then she would wake up and see the tan wall, just inches in front of her sad face.

Every morning, as her dreams were crushed once again, she would start to cry. First softly, to herself, then louder, loud enough for all her worlds to hear. Sometimes, it seemed as if there were other voices crying with her, but she felt as if she was imagining them too.

Occasionally, words came to her. They brought memories of a better time. “Boredom” came one day recently, and brought the memory of being young, a toddler, when she first entered the box. She was restless, and found herself wishing for more space to “play.” After realizing there was no space, the young girl was “bored.” “Fun”, and “preschool” were two interesting ones. They brought back a time before the box, memories so faint that she could barely bring them to mind. They were nice memories, but they could not help her now.

One day, after many years, a new word came to her. Two words actually. “Society,” and “different.” Together, they made her remember why she went into the box. She gasped at the memory, for it was saddening and made her angry. Something inside her broke. She did not see the point of living this life anymore. She tried holding her breath until she passed out, but found that she couldn't. Nothing she did worked. This just made her sadder. She let out one last long wail. Louder than she had ever cried before. She continued wailing for a long time, and slowly faded, until, once again, she was silent. Crying so soft that nothing could hear.

Then, she heard a voice. It asked, "Is anyone in there?" She thought this was her imagination too, but sobbed slightly more audibly in response. Then the voice asked, "Are you okay? You seem upset." It was a quiet voice. It seemed kind. She shook her head to say that no, she was not okay, but then realized that the voice was outside, and could not see her.

She had somewhat forgotten how to form words, and did not want to speak, so she simply sobbed louder. Then, the voice from outside said something that confused her. It said "Alright then, let's get you out of that tiny box."

She did not understand how that could be possible. She had spent her whole life staring at the walls, imagining a life beyond, but actually leaving her box, her home, seemed impossible. But sure as the new day, the crease at the top slowly edged itself open. When she saw the sky, she stared in
disbelief for a few seconds, then passed out.

It was beautiful. It was terrifying. It was everything she had imagined. It was nothing she had imagined. It was freedom. It was hope. So bright. She could not name the color, but it was beautiful all the same. When she came to, there was a face peering through the opening.

She passed out again. It looked friendly, and it seemed like it meant well. She decided that the voice had come from this face. She also decided to trust this voice face combo. She realized that never, in all of her worlds, had she imagined anyone like herself. She had assumed that she was the only one left. That everyone else disappeared when she was boxed away. This time, she was shaken awake.

The hands felt rough, but also soft, like hands should. Before she could protest, they were lifting her up. Up out of her tiny little box. Up out of her home, whether she liked it or not. As her eyes moved over the comforting brown edge, she gasped.

In front of her was a person! A real person! Someone like her! She felt them lift her feet over the edge, too. She tried to stand, but found that she was to weak after years of sitting. She leaned on the person, and they held her up.

She realized that she could no longer see her box in front of her. She realized that her fist was clenched, so she relaxed it, and inside her fist was a minuscule version of her box on a chain. She slid it around her neck, feeling that it was the right thing to do. She found one word, and grabbed at it.

"Why," she asked. Her rescuer turned towards her, reached to their own neck, and revealed a little brown box on a chain. Understanding that she didn't want to talk, they waved their hand around palm up in a sweeping gesture, pointing out the surrounding world.

Her eyes followed the hand, and as she looked around, she saw hundreds, thousands, even millions of other small, thin, tan boxes labeled "fragile," and "this side up."