What’s In The Box?

[Day 11 of 30]:

For today’s writing prompt, I took something extremely simple and modified it for my purposes. I wanted to experiment with the emotions of an inanimate object.  I wanted to consider how it would feel about it’s creation, shape, decoration, and purpose in life.  I wanted to take something very simple and follow it through without letting the inner critic a chance to comment.  My MUSE was interested in the challenge but I had difficulty building enough conflict to create a life from the lifeless.

Although, this isn’t my favorite piece of writing, I am happy with how simple it was to fall into the character.   Again, I’m still struggling with building details into the writing flow.  Most importantly though, it’s day 11 and I’m still writing once a day.  I’ve learned that it’s much easier to write in the first person than in third person.  And what I need is practice, practice, practice.

Writer’s Prompt: What’s in the Box?

Jane looked at the small red box on the counter.  “What is it?” she asked to the empty table and chairs.  The silver satin bow shined and sparkled in response.

The box tried to shine even brighter for the woman that smiled down at it.  It felt her eyes caress along it’s sharp square corner.  Ever since it could remember, the box loves surprises.  Back when it was just a flat piece of cardboard, it knew the feeling of wonder for the future.

It had hurt so much when the razor scored each line and brutally folded the cardboard into it’s rectangular shape.  But the box was proud of it’s battle scars.  And the surprise shower of a thousand liquid red droplets on it’s freshly made three dimensional form, was a heaven that could not be repeated.  The box hoped the woman appreciated the unblemished, deep burgundy color that it’s pain and the red paint had created.

He felt the woman drag her finger along it’s bottom edges.  The box would have shivered in anticipation if it could.  Instead, it focused on containing it’s secret surprise for as long as possible.  Anticipation was like a mist coating it’s perfectly flat top, marred only by the method of release.  The sparkling bow stood with an open invitation.

The box knew it represented infinite possibility.  It had overheard a factory wonder talking about how Schrodinger cat was somehow both alive and dead simply because the box held onto it’s secrets and stayed closed.  The box didn’t know who Schrodinger was or whether he should feel sorry for the cat. But, it knew that both life and death were the ultimate miracle.  Nothing short of the infinite and wonderful universe could create life and then take it away.

The box was proud to be a part of the infinity and play such an important role.  It prepared to deliver the future as the woman tugged at the curled bow with thin white fingers.  Her mails grazed along the top of the box and tickled the it’s flaps.  The box tried to hold it’s lid, filling it’s insides with love and joy like a child holding it’s breath.  And finally, the moment had come.  The box saw the woman’s face beaming with delight.  SURPRISE.

Jack & Jill went up the hill, To kill some fucking zombies. Jack got bit, and lost his shit.  And Jill, she had to shoot him.

Comments, links to your writing prompt results, and lurkers are always welcome.