The Devil's Box

The devil lived in a box. It was a given that the devil would live in a box as it was difficult for him to live anywhere else, as people would become complacent about his existence. The general consensus was that the devil was not a well liked person. One night when it was dark, as nights usually are, the devil killed my brother. He had just been to the toilet at the bottom of the garden and as he walked across the cold and wet grass, the devil killed him. There wasn’t any great mention as to how he died, we just woke up knowing that he was not alive.

That day the air was blue and green and made us sick. It wasn’t an angry day, it just felt as though the earth was not spinning correctly.

We drove around in a priest car. It was a small car, only big enough to fit one person, comfortably. It was black and the front appeared to be the body of a priest. We were also, coincidentally enough, looking for a Catholic church, in order to rectify the devil situation. It was probably wrong, that we had stolen the car of a priest. I was quite worried as the only Catholic church I could think of is too far to drive. I am also worried by the fact that I don’t even believe in Catholicism or the devil, and that I might just be humoring my companions.

I found the house of a once good friend. His brother and sister had died in a terrible accident the year previous and so he had left the town behind. I had not seen him for quite some time. I pulled up and sat in the gutter next to my stolen priest car, and stared at the building across the road. It was a building I spent quite a bit of time at as a child. There were official looking people coming down from the main part of town, congregating at this building. They were having a meeting, to discuss such interesting things as money and local waste disposal. It was to be an exciting affair.

I got myself into a small argument with one of my companions. The argument happened to end with her falling into a large drain way, accidentally of course. She yelled some things to me, things I probably didn’t want to hear and that may have questioned my character, but I replied by telling her that she was quite proper and of the female dog species. She did not take too kindly to that, and so I decided to make the rest of my journey without any companions. When I made it back to my stolen priest car, I noticed that there was an imprint of her clothes on the side of the vehicle, in red. It didn’t matter though because it was at that point that the car began to fall apart anyway.

The stolen priest car, now falling apart, had been parked quite securely in the rear end of another car, a car which happens to belong to a group of young men who seem to have more pride and money than sense. I tell them the funny story about how I don’t know who owns the stolen priest car, now falling apart, but that I am sure they will be back shortly. We all choose to ignore the fact that the stolen priest car, now falling apart, was leaking a very large and unhealthy amount of blood into the gutter.

I looked around as if I was waiting for someone, hopeful to sneak away at the next available chance. I noticed my close friend sitting in the gutter further up the street, and I wanted to speak to him, to say goodbye, but I could not find the words. He was sitting next to my brother, who I was so infuriated with for suddenly being alive again. That I had gone on this adventure for no real reason other than to avenge his

death, when there was not such a thing as his death. It was a pity more so than a relief, to my own selfish conclusion.

I sigh inside my head and walk off up the street, occasionally running and perhaps even floating, if that’s what you could call it. I wasn’t entirely aware of my feet touching the ground anyway. A cynicist would claim that it was drug induced, but that was slightly out of character for myself.

There was a large building that must have been built recently as it had not been there the previous year. It happened to be a gallery of art, albeit odd that such a building would exist in a town of such virtues, I thought nothing of it. The small gallery space in which you would walk into if you did not turn upon first entering the building was in fact a large elevator. I watched as a little girl walked into the room and disappeared to some other part of the building that I could not see at that time. Her parents soon arrived into the building and could not find her, but I found it quite humorous to listen to their terrible accents and wonder how much money it would take them to find her again. Sometimes the rich did not own everything. I was sure the girl was having fun, as children enjoy things that move more so than money that moves.

At this time I thought it humorous to levitate my way up the hallway. There was a girl of pretend blonde hair and she was sitting amongst a number of chairs in which she must catalogue. She was laughing at my levitation and wanted to discuss the first time she decided to levitate in order to scare some rich folk. She said the first time her and her lovely friend Princess were levitating together, they heard some young men speaking about how they had never been to the country. She thought it humorous that being of such high class and wealth they had never been to the country, but also felt slight fear that she could hear what it was they were saying when they were so far away.

Sometimes it is better to stick to the issue that is first brought up in a day of stories. The devil that lived inside the box had recently come into some fortune and upgraded to a larger box in a more up market part of town, the new gallery. And this day, he took the life of a small girl that happened upon his home by way of a moving gallery space.