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Write a story about someone who is constantly being put into a box by others.

Posted in Angst on Jul 21, 2023

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✍️ 40 stories

Coming Out of the Box

Submitted to Contest #208

“Back in your box, Laila.”“But I don’t want to.”“It’s getting late. In your box, now!”“Come on Mom, just a little longer, please?” Laila had perfected the whine. She’d learned it from their neighbors, a spectral family who spoke to one another in that ghastly, wailing tone. Cynthia bemoaned their arrival in the neighborhood. They lowered the standard. Soon it will all have gone to the dogs… Quite literally. Where ghosts roamed, the wolves soon followed.“Come on, let me stay up a little longer. I just want to see the sunrise.”“...

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The Cat's Pyjamas

Submitted to Contest #208

“Let me out! Please let me out! I don’t like it in here!” Not too long ago, I was in a happy place. Three square meals a day, plenty of attention, and they even threw in a few toys to alleviate the boredom of being alone for lengthy periods. However, I was quickly discarded when my youthful cuteness made way to young adulthood – after I started to display an aversion to the newest four-legged member of the family. Prior to that time, I would be left abandoned to my own devices for most of each day, so I used to entertain myself with games of...

23 likes 20 comments 20
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Don't Mean Nuthin'

Submitted to Contest #208

Don't Mean Nuthin*Tribute to Unsung Heroes: the Veterans of Vietnam War Thanks for your service.(* Coined by G.I.’s in Vietnam. A reverse coping expression indicating that it means everything and I’m about to lose it. Usually used to dismiss witnessing or experiencing something so horrific that it can’t be comprehended by the psyche. Alternately used as an expression of relief that one has avoided being killed even if they are injured or maimed.)The fighting man of action opened his eyes. And saw nothing. What's happening?“Why can't I see?” ...

18 likes 22 comments 22
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American Bread

Submitted to Contest #208

When I immigrated to America, the thing I hated most about it was the bread. Or rather, the lack of good bread. Stores only sold sandwich bread, pumped full of preservatives, added sugars, and artificial flavoring. What I wouldn't have given for a hot slice of Georgian tonis puri on my waitressing shifts at the 16th Street Diner. As I served customers their meals in plastic baskets lined with checkered paper, wiped down the cracked formica tables, or swept potato chips off the floor, I would fantasize about a crispy, slightly salty, yea...

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The Ugly Toy

Submitted to Contest #208

Ugh I’m an ugly toy.  There’s not much else I can say. It’s just stating the obvious. Some come out as pretty toys. Some come out as adventurous. Some come out loving and cuddly. They’re the worst ones. I came out ugly. And not ugly, as in the little ugly duckling way. It doesn’t get any better for me. No life altering, self-help guru I am what I am and we’re all beautiful in our own way type of ugly. I’m just ugly. Like I hit every branch of the ugly tree on the way down. That’s ugly. The people at the factory were not sure what had ha...

17 likes 6 comments 6
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Kelsey's Heaven

Submitted to Contest #208

      I always considered marriage to be the most beautiful thing to happen to someone. I mean, doesn’t everyone though? To have one person in your life to feel a connection to like no other; someone to tell your secrets to, someone to tell what you’re REALLY thinking.            That’s what I thought. My marriage ceremony was just two months ago, yet all I could think about is one very specific part of our vows, “Til death do us part.” Surely, if my husband...

14 likes 5 comments 5
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Heart-Shaped Sunglasses

Submitted to Contest #208

CW: Strong themes/mentions of eating disorders.When I was a kid, I knew I could be anything. I was as malleable and unmolded as a new jar of Play-Doh, ready to fit into any shape or size form anyone wanted to squeeze me into. For my father, something demure and dutiful, the next dolled-up thing to add to his dining room set. For my mother, something sweet-faced and empty, something to dress up in the bows and skirts she didn’t wear anymore. Never mind that I wanted to be the first mermaid-popstar-astronaut to live in a diamond castle on the ...

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THE DETECTIVE

Submitted to Contest #208

THE DETECTIVE Millicent Billy worked her way through the files, gradually piecing together an accurate picture of the fraud, the subject of this enquiry. Not part of the main fraud squad office, she sat alone, surrounded by boxes and, automatically, her hand would reach out to the large bag of M+Ms on her desk. Though she was well regarded for her forensic ability, she longed to do real police work instead of the glorified clerical work that she was constantly pigeon-holed with. As the lunch hour arrived, she opened the door th...

13 likes 6 comments 6
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Teachers Say the Darndest Things

Submitted to Contest #208

I was on the floor building a rocket ship with Legos when I heard my parents’ whispered voices. Mommy was sniffle-crying and Daddy was saying there, there now, everything will be okay. What does okay mean, anyhow? When Mommy tells me to change my clothes into something more “proper,” or to clean up my toys, or to go back and flush the toilet, or that it’s bath time, and I say, “Okay,” everything is fine: I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. But during recess at the school picnic table the other day, I had beaten Alexander in arm wrest...

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Wrong Plastic

Submitted to Contest #208

Strangling limbs cover any sight of my plastic. Seas of fluorescent green, chrome, red, blue, white, bright yellow and matte black swirl above my painted-on eyes. Slightly, soft streams of night light blue and warm gold-bulb drip between the narrow gaps. I can't breathe. I am drowning. Waves of hardened coloured oil brushes against my skin - coloured and textured like a uniform. Like a uniform which isn't mine, this isn't my skin, I can't take it off even if I tried. I was burnt, melted and frozen in the wrong shape. Material meant for long ...

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Turmoil for a Soldier in Gray

Submitted to Contest #208

Warning: racial stereotypesFirst of all, I need to tell you that I’m an avid collector of antiques and old documents. I live in Washington, DC, working for the federal government. However, and on one particular weekend, I was meandering through eastern Tennessee and hunting for antique stores in small towns to browse. On the outskirts of Jonesborough, I pulled into the dusty parking lot of a shop with a sign in the front—Winslow Antiques. Surely, I thought to myself, I might be able to root out some “treasures” here to add to my collection. ...

11 likes 6 comments 6
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Life is Full of Boxes

Submitted to Contest #208

Living with a diagnosis like mine isn’t a pleasant thing. It wasn’t until the late eighties that the psychiatric field finally came up with a label for me, and they dubbed me ‘Bipolar.’ For years, I really doubted the whole thing. I mean, sure, I had depressions–deep depressions, but I wasn’t sure about the ‘highs.’ And then someone pointed out how my teens and early twenties were full of sexual escapades that were, well, let’s say they were excessive. And then there are my spending habits. I get out of control about something. There hav...

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All That Fitz

Submitted to Contest #208

“You are supposed to believe certain things, don’t you know?”“What? Am I supposed to be some bible thumper now?”“Why would you assume that?According to Michael, I was the one with a problem. Our friendship depended on me making the right choices. He always took the lead to sort things out for us. Then it got so weird. He chose a set of beliefs all right. Things that made no sense to me.He was right and everyone else was wrong. His beliefs were fashionable too. Everyone agreed with him. I mean everyone. No one else dared to disagree. Except f...

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The Room With No Doors

Submitted to Contest #208

  I was seduced by the woman in the dark red gown in the painting that hangs in the first room above the mahogany sideboard with the reclining marble nude upon it. It was she who had me on the floor where I lie still, immobilized, staring only at the undecorated ceiling, because the painting was the first thing that came into my view. I lay there for several days, only aware of her visage and the chandelier above the very dark table and chairs, and a very faint tapping sound like a dripping candle which I occasionally felt very lig...

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Party Time

Submitted to Contest #208

On the day of her flight, Sarlaben set out on the same morning walk to the Radha Krishna temple she’d taken for the past 43 years. Her driver, Santosh, could have been called to the bungalow early in order to drive her there. But no, Sarlaben relished the feeling of freedom as she unlatched the gate of the family compound and allowed her feet to chose their path through the streets of her Mumbai suburb. Shall I take the winding Dixit Road or the more direct Station Road? Did she have time to stop and admire the orchids growing in the arms of...

9 likes 5 comments 5
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