The Box - WIP

The Box- Part 1

I woke up in a box. The air in the box was warm and smelled sweet like cinnamon. Not he overpowering smell that cinnamon can have but the kind of smell that makes you smile and think of winter holidays, snuggled by the fireplace with your family. I breathed in the aroma and closed my eyes imaging just that. The memories made me sleepy even after just awakening. I rested my back against the wall behind me. The box was just big enough for me to stretch my feet out and have my toes bush against the adjacent wall. I fell asleep like that.

When I woke again it was not nearly so peaceful. I woke to the brightness filling the box yet there was no source of light. No electric bulb, no fire and no holes for the light to seep in through. I watched as the light got brighter. The walls of the box went from soft rose to intense red. when I closed my eyes I could still see the red from behind my eye lids. I covered my eyes with my the balls of my hands trying to block out the blinding light but this attempt was in vein. Having no clothes to pull over my head I hunched over on the floor enclosing my face with my arms. Nevertheless the light seeped in. It seemed as if the walls floor and ceiling themselves where illuminated.

Then came the heat. it came so harsh I could not breath without feeling burning in my lungs. My skin itched. For a moment my thoughts ceased to exist. The light and heat blocked all pathways to my mind.

Then as quickly as it came it all disappeared returning to peaceful box that smelled of cinnamon. it took a few minutes for me to get used to the temperature and the light. I felt cold even thought the air was warm and i could not see anything but blackness until my eyes adjusted. Not that there was much to see besides my own naked body and the bare smooth red walls.

I was used to this by now I had been in the box for what felt like days. This was the fourth time it had done this. Always the same. The light and then the heat I didn't know why it happened or when it would happen but I could tell it was not random. Even though I expected it now, it hurt all the same.

In the hours between these episodes I would strain to remember what came before the box. Although only I knew no more then a few days at most had passed I could not remember much. I remembered faces but not names. I remembered feelings that came with those faces but no specific memories that caused those feelings. Sometimes I thought I remembered a scene like the one the smell of the cinnamon brought to mind but I could not tell weather these scene where real or just a picture to represent the aroma.

In the time I had been in this box not once had I seen anythings other then the box or myself. No one had entered the box to explain anything to me to see to how I was doing, not even to bring me food. I had a feeling that no one was thinking about me inside this box. But even if they where, there was no door or entrance that I knew of to let them in.

I found it odd that I was not hungry or thirsty from not consuming anything, I had not needed to relieve my self in fact it felt as though there was nothing in me. No stomach to hold any food or water. I had always known that food and water was necessary for humans but my body seemed to be proving common sense wrong.

I started noticing another pattern today. Although disturbed by my borden witch often caused me to sleep. I would often fall asleep at the same time and woke up either just before the light came or from the light. I knew the light was not from the sun but I have begun to believe that it happens once a day in the early morning. I have no tool of witch to make notes and the walls are not soft enough to scratch marks into with my fingers so I've been repeating the number of light and heat episodes out loud to help my self remember. If my theory is true and the light comes every morning then i have been in this box a week now.

Today I have been in the box for a month. I can not smell the cinnamon any more and I'm beginning to miss it. The smell was to me a reminder of life outside the box. The memory of what I believed to be my family sitting around a fire place is now fuzzy when try to remember. I can remember my the act or remembering the scene but I can not remember the scene its self. In the scene by the fireplace there is a small girl sitting on the carpet she has long blond hair tied back in a braid I can not put together her face in my mind but I remember green eyes. I go through images of different mouths trying to find one that looks right with those green eyes but nothing comes to mind. Her face remains blank apart from her eyes. I assume this child is part of my family but I can not remember who. She may be my sister or a niece. when I picture her face I know I loved her. Something makes me think she is my daughter but I can not remember who the mother might be.

I have been trying to remember my name. I know I must have had one. A first middle and last but I can't remember any. Sometimes I tell my self how stupid it is of me obsess over my name when I can not even remember how old I am or what my face looks like but I want a name, something that belongs to me. Something proves I am more then just a body in a box. I spend the day studying my hands. Something is not right about them they are large and my wrists are thick like a grown mans yet they are smooth and unblemished as a new born child's. My arms and have no hair growing on them. There is no hair anywhere on my body. I even lack eyebrows. I have run my hands over my head and my face trying to paint a picture in my mind of my appearance and it will not come together.

I wish I had a mirror. I am not narcissistic, it is just wish to see my self and then maybe I could remember more about my self, maybe I could place a name with the face.