The Holey Box

The vibrato in the floor, the Prima Donna’s lips moving as if her life depended upon it, the flickering candles, the pungent smell of melting wax, the lush gothic costumes, and the phantom’s hand reaching to her as if trying to pull the love from her that he would never have. Styx sat on the edge of his seat and squeezed his girlfriend’s hand. It was the finale, the “lair scene” of the “Phantom of The Opera,” he didn’t have to see Abby to know she was crying.

It was ten thirty in the evening when they left the opera house. Although the night was clear and warm, the streetlights were dim and pale. Abby hugged herself, her head hanging low, and Styx dragged his shoes on the sidewalk. To love but not have it returned…

Styx shook his head, but the melancholy remained.

They passed a darkened alleyway, and something caught his eye. He stopped and stared into the inky blackness. He wasn’t frightened. He’d passed the alley many times during daylight and knew it dead-ended quickly. 

Abby tugged his arm. She made a ‘V’ with her fingers palm in under one eye and moved them toward the alley. 

Styx hesitated, unsure. He tended to make a big deal over nothing and didn’t want Abby to think he’d done it again. Then, a glint on the far right. Stay here, he signed. 

A cool breeze followed him into the alley as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he was thankful for that. His overactive imagination made it feel like he had walked into an oven, and in moments, flames would ignite and roast him alive. On the ground lay a small rectangular box. Closer inspection revealed the container was metal with a fanciful design on top and tiny evenly spaced holes on both sides…purposefully made. 

Styx frowned. Why put holes on both sides of a fancy metal box? A decorative pepper shaker would only have holes on one side. And it’s flat like a flask but obviously can’t hold liquid. Maybe it fits into something bigger? The ground was bare, which eliminated that.

His curiosity aroused, Styx cautiously picked up the box and held it up before his eyes. The alley breeze caressed his hand, and the box vibrated. He almost dropped it in surprise.

Three loud claps from the alley’s entrance made him aware of the time, and he did an about-face and briskly walked out.

He showed Abby the container, grinning like a six-year-old.

She signed slowly. It’s got holes in it. 

Handmade holes, his fingers eagerly replied.

Abby looked at him dully. A holey box. It matches your head. She turned abruptly and walked down the street, not bothering to see if he followed. 

He shoved the metal case in his front pocket and hurried after her.

The next day, Styx sat in his cubicle, staring at the metal box atop his desk. He’d pushed the accounting ledger near the fan by the edge of his desk, trying to ignore it. His work could wait.

He picked up the container, enjoying the smooth metal’s feel against his fingertips, and felt the vibration again―the fan breeze. Styx held the case sideways against the fan's cage, almost touching it, and felt the air rushing through holes in the box’s side. He moved it back and forth to ascertain the purpose for so many small openings.

After a few minutes, he shook his head and laid it down. His accounting ledger beckoned, but first, a bathroom break. He swung around in his chair and then jerked back in surprise. His colleagues surrounded his cubicle’s front. Not just a couple, all of them.

Dan sat in the cubicle beside him and stood before the others. His lips moved excitedly, and Styx had to gesture his hand a few times to get Dan to slow down.

“What is that?” Dan asked. Tiny beads of perspiration lay wetly underneath his flared nose.

Styx shrugged. Why? 

Dan pointed at the holey box and moved his lips slowly. “The sound was…incredible.” He looked around, and twenty heads nodded. 

Styx signed, mouthing the words, What did it sound like? 

Dan stuttered―Styx banged his hand on his desk and raised his eyebrows. 

“Sorry," Dan apologized, enunciating the word. "It sounds like… humming, but not vocal, like the wind blowing in the trees―and raspy like a thousand buzzing bees.” Dan licked his lips. “Where did you get it?”

The intensity in Dan’s eyes made him immediately uncomfortable.

None of your business, he signed. I’m hitting the bathroom. He got up and elbowed his way past Dan and the crowd.

He couldn’t see Dan but felt him behind him and whipped around. Dan approached him slowly like a lion coming to his meal. 

Styx backed toward one of the big bay windows with a panoramic view of the city, a breeze ruffling the back of his shirt; his tailbone hit the window ledge, and he glanced sideways at the open pane. He lifted the box, hoping to find a friendly face in the room.

Dan lunged, and the box flew from Styx’s hand out the window.

Five stories below, the holey box hit the concrete sidewalk and crumpled, obliterated.

***

Lucy sat on the park bench, swinging her legs and eating her bologna sandwich. She watched her mother talking to Ms. Nancy, her best friend Skyy’s mom and took a massive bite from her sandwich. She felt something plop onto her dress.

Mustard! She puffed her cheeks and blew out hard. Her mom was going to kill her. Lucy wiped her hand frantically on her dress, trying to remove the yellow mustard, but the harder she tried, the more it smeared. She inhaled a lungful of air to wail when something under the bench caught her eye.

Lucy jumped off and pulled it out. She held it up and smiled—a pretty shiny box. Her smile vanished.

It had holes in it.