There are at least two hundred forty-one thousand, nine hundred and eighty-seven boxes in the world. I will describe exactly one.
Let’s say it’s a cardboard box with four flaps on the top and on the bottom. The ones on the top don’t quite close all the way and, of those, the one of the left is ripped in the middle from being opened so many times in search of its contents.
The flaps on the bottom are worn thin from the box being slid around so much and set down on rough, unforgiving surfaces that showed no mercy to its paper skin. But they still close; holes are not created by so few punishments.
There’s a dark, ominous splotch on the right side from many years ago that reminds me of a scar. It was inflicted when someone decided to put some liquid in the box; but it spilled all down the sides and then pooled in the bottom before finally being dumped out by a weary old man in a plaid shirt.
I opened the box once, yes, but that was a long time ago. I found dust and memories with the stale scent of ash and rain. Old Polaroids blinked up at me; their subjects smiling at some camera that I could never hope to find, held by some photographer that history will never name.
When I picked up the box, it creaked like the stairs in the old house the box had never seen where I spent one summer growing up. Dust trickled off the sides and down to the floor as the box bulged slightly under its own weight, the weight of childhood relics that gave the box its identity.
The box has no name; however, it has gone by many titles which, combined, would be very hard to pronounce. It has been an alien spaceship in a backyard; a house for two; a fort in a storm; a race car; and, once, it even played the tower of a damsel in distress.
Smaller than a grown man, but not too small for imagination, the box has hosted games of all sorts. And, if one listens hard enough, the sound of play dates aged to perfection can still be heard with Hokey Pokey playing in the background.
-Andi
Author notes
Ok, in Alabama we have the writing assessment....and in 10th grade you don't get descriptive. You'll get either persuasive (which I got...and I HATE persuasive, I can't even ARGUE persuasively), narrative (which I wanted since it's my high point), or expository (this one is annoying but I don't have any huge problems with it) you take the test in 10th and 7th grades in 7th I got narrative and this was before I was even writing actively and I tstill thought I couldn't write well, lol. My prompt was about being lost in the woods and having to spend the night there....my character (who had to be me by the prompt) slept in a cave, nearly died by almost falling out of a tree into the clutches of a bear, dealt with freezing cold, and awful fear. And I wrote this in a hour. See, I thought people would laugh if they ever read a story by me (but I knew I was good at poems...oh yes) and so I only went all out on writing assessments because I knew if they did laugh, I would never know. And I got a four. And four is the best grade you can get. It's from 1-4...1=below basic, 2=basic, 3=proficient, 4=Advanced. I got a four. I've never gotten anything BUT fours on these things. Writing is what I do!
But this year, SOO hoping for narritive, I got persuasive, and I was pretty sure I'd get either persuasive or expository because I couldn't see getting the same one twice but I had to persuade my local school board to either let or not let a fast food restauraunt open on campus.
but ANYWAY, I heard one of my friends say when she first took the test in 7th grade she got a prompt that said describe a box and she put the basics four sides, top and bottom, cardboard, brown...you get the idea. She put it in paragraph form and I don't know her grade but I told her I could do better, I could write a story about the box. She reminded me it had to be descriptive (as if I'd forgotten) and I combined them, a story that is HIGHLY descriptive about a box.
What do you think?
-Andi-
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