God in a Box

It all started this evening, only hours before
When I was walking home from a long, hard day’s work
The vacant property next to my house had finally been sold last month
And construction of a new home had started recently
The constant noise was already approaching the limits of what my patience could bear
I saw that they had accomplished little more than digging a foot or so into the ground
Quite a lot to show for three days of relentless commotion
As I walked across the newly exposed earth, something tripped me
And I fell face first into the dirt
As I picked myself up, cursing and growling all the way
I turned to seek out the offending rock or root that dared block my passage home
But I found something else, something quite unexpected
Sticking up from the ground I saw the sharp corner of something that was partially buried
In a tired fury I clawed my way through the dirt and quickly excavated it
It was a small, wooden box
My first impulse was to smash it in the street right then and there
But then I realized that I couldn’t stop staring at it
There was something very unusual about this old chest
Something that I had to know more about
After a quick search of the twilight for any sign of nosy neighbors
I tucked the box under my arm and hurried home
Taking my discovery right to my room, I switched on a lamp for a closer examination
Under that thin cover of yellow light, you will find me right now
How to describe such a thing…
Physically speaking, it’s quite unremarkable
A simple oblong wooden box
Not much bigger than my forearm, give or take a few inches
Made of a dark umber-colored wood
That seems to be completely flawless
And I mean literally flawless
Not a single scratch, stain or splinter to be found
Even the grain of the wood appears to run perfectly parallel
The only break in the pattern’s smooth, steady progression
Is a series of strange marks carved deep into the top of the box
Completely unfamiliar to me
They seem to be small symbolic crests rather than alphabetic characters
Sharp, precision-carved edges of long and complex spirals
Elegant and strangely foreboding
Almost staring back at me as I clutch the box to my chest
Despite a growing sense of unknown but certain danger
Odd that I should be frightened by such a thing
When I am the one cradling it in my arms
Surprisingly, it’s a bit soft to the touch
As if the wood had permanently absorbed the moisture of the soil from where I found it
Not to mention the dank stench of long buried earth
Yet, the oaken skin is impossibly resilient
Unwilling to break shape beneath neither my fingernail nor my fist
I consider trying again with a hammer
But something tells me that would be most unwise
Disregarding that idea quickly, I continue to study the box
I found that if you press your ear against the side and tap lightly on the outer surface
It sounds completely hollow
Echoing the faint hum of complete silence
That you tend to hear when you’re listening for something that isn’t there
As I continue to stare, it invokes a series of strange and distant memories
Of a pirate’s treasure chest from some garish old adventure film
Or perhaps something a grandmother would cherish despite it’s total lack of value
You wouldn’t know it to look at the thing
But it probably hasn’t seen daylight in decades, maybe even longer
From a distance, it’s nothing more than another antique trinket
With a long, convoluted and yet uneventful history
But I have a very strong feeling that I have found something very unusual here
Some great mystery has been entrusted to me
A new sense of purpose and empowerment fills me with important questions
Examining further, I know less with each new discovery
The lid is held by bronze hinges that are heavily rusted but still sturdy and unyielding
The box’s secret contents are protected by a simple metal lock
With a keyhole laced in filthy rust
My rudimentary skill at picking locks fails to grant me any further access
For now, I can only wonder what lies within
I notice that midnight has long since come and gone
I have been sitting and silently studying my new prize for many hours
With a slight sigh of reluctance
I place the box gently on the floor and slide it underneath my bed
As I lay down to sleep, I find little comfort
The strangest sensation fills my dream-seeking mind
Somehow, I still feel as if the those strange symbols are watching me
Gazing up at my motionless body from beneath the bed
Many more hours pass before I am at last accepted into the comfort of sleep
I lie on the far right hand side of the bed, pressed tightly against the wall
Persuaded by passive fears to creep away from the edge of the mattress
Outside the reach of this bizarre new sensation
Suspicious that perhaps a dagger will rise up and strike at me
Or that I may be somehow pulled down and imprisoned within the small wooden cage
My sleep is long but restless
The dreams given to me this night are heavy with chaos
Phantom shadows and voiceless echoes taunt me
While flashes of intense emotion rise from deep within
Only to fade without leaving any sort of explanation or enlightenment
I spend the evening in the company of bizarre, horrific and disgusting characters
Endlessly parading in from beyond my spinning head
Hey, King Minos, I like your crown
Who is that captivating woman sneaking around the corners of my mind?
Where is everyone going?
I am not awakened until well into the afternoon
Shaking off the dull haze of fatigue
It takes me a few moments to transition from my dreams back into reality
I find myself soaked in layers of sweat
The room is painfully overheated
As if the sun were hanging right outside my tiny window
A few minutes pass before I can gather enough energy to rise from my bed
I’m swimming through a flood of dizziness
And I struggle against the urge to collapse
Staggering towards the door, my dragging foot catches something solid on the floor
Flailing, I fall face first into the dark carpet with a reverberating crash
Muttering my usual string of curses, I look back to see what I tripped over
It was the box
Impossible, I clearly remember putting it under my bed last night
But there it was, right in front of me
The eyes don’t lie
Forgetting about the heat and my exhaustion for the moment
I sit down on the floor and study the box again
I suppose I may have moved it in my sleep
Despite the fact that I’ve never had problems with sleepwalk or anything of that sort
I don’t understand
And I still can’t stop staring at those mysterious symbols
What are they? What do they mean?
I reach down and gently run my fingertips over the edge of the inscription
A flash of light leaps into my eyes
It hits me with such brutal force that it knocks me back head over feet
I spasm so violently that I almost break my own spine
Suddenly I’m very, very far away
Spinning at an impossible speed
Between worlds and dreams and centuries
Bombarded by flashes from someone else’s vision
Brief glimpses into infinity
I can see… everything
Every face, every thought, every moment
Racing through my mind like highway traffic
Faster than I can direct my eyes to see it all
I need focus
There’s so much to absorb and everything is rushing past me
So completely empowering…
And then it’s all over
My eyes tear open and take me back to my tiny room
The imagery withdrawn, my mind falls back into it’s normal slow progression
I can see my hands rattling and dripping sweat into the deep cuts on the box’s lid
The first emotion to return to me is fear
A terrifying realization wrapped in vague paranoia and instinctual thought regression
I quickly crawl backwards, receding from my assailant
Tangling my arms and creeping away like a frightened animal
My uneven gasps for breath are all that breaks the silence
Still shivering, my hand falls upon the handle of a kitchen knife
The cold steel awakens a second emotion
Rage, aggression, thirst for violence
I raise the knife point and aim directly ahead
My first and only impulse is to strike fast and strike hard
Stab this vile thing again and again until nothing but splinters remain
But my hand won’t move
Deep inside, my mind screams for an instant and violent reaction
But I remain perfectly still
Aside from the nervous quiver that still afflicts every nerve in my body
Something will not let me attack
It’s me
The pace of my thoughts is gaining momentum and strength
Casting aside the hollow shield of fear and anger, a deeper sense of calm emerges
The knife falls gently from my hand
I know I cannot destroy what I don’t understand
I still don’t know the nature of this thing or why it was entrusted to me
And there is no emotional blend more dangerous than ignorance and hate
The bloodlust drains slowly from my eyes
My breath no longer carries the burden of threat-fed adrenaline
So my lungs relax and my heart slows to a normal pace
In unison, my muscles unwind and I fall heavily to the floor
My head landing harshly on a forsaken dinner plate
Into a slimy mess of day-old sludge, formerly food of some sort
The thought abandons me as quickly as it appeared
I spend the next few hours staring into vacancy and dodging sleep
Trying to comprehend what has transpired
What the hell just happened to me?
I touched the symbols engraved on the box
And then I was the infinite
How do I even begin to explain that?
I doubt I was hallucinating, this was far too vivid
I’m not dreaming anymore
No, this seems much more… supernatural than all of that
I don’t now if I would call it a religious experience
Well, I honestly don’t know what to call it
So many questions
Tonight I will stay on the floor
Dreamless and distorted
Never fully reaching that state of peaceful slumber
Thinking, thinking, thinking
Chasing shadows of my miraculous vision
I can’t remember one face, one name or even one second
Even though I distinctly remember seeing it all
God damn it
Morning finally comes
The swords of dawn strike hard
My hands can’t move fast enough to swat away the sunlight
A serpentine hiss escapes my throat
The new day burns
I smother my eyes with a pillow
Until I have scavenged enough strength to stand
After shutting the curtains tight, my room glows in a dim red
Bright enough to see, yet still dark enough to hide
The ideal environment for this day’s work
Today I hide from the sun
Someday the sun will hide from me
But now I need to maintain my focus
There is much to be done and I feel that time will permit no further distraction
Stopping only to retrieve a few tools from my desk
A stack of unmarked drawing paper
White surface turned to a soft amber under the sun’s cruel and constant bombardment
As many flimsy plastic pens as my left fist can hold
An old-fashioned paper measuring tape roll
And my trusty pocket knife
A lifetime of cuts and still as sharp as the day it was forged
I slide gently back down to the floor
To sit softly within this deepest coat of crimson
My riddle box lays before me
There is much to be done this day…
As I set my possessions down I stop to inspect my hands
They seem a bit different than I remember them
Skin tinted slightly off-color with a touch of grey
Fingers worn a bit slim
These are a sickly creature’s hands
I have not eaten in days
That would explain my slightly weakened state
Yes, that must be it – simple hunger turned inward
But this is no time for food
I must remember to eat a bit later
For now, my attention is required here
I take a pen in my hand and lay it upon the first sheet of paper
Weaving delicately around lines and shapes
I create a simple drawing of my mysterious subject
Corners sharp and edges dark
Then, moving several inches to my left
I summon another, from this new perspective
Again and again
Until I have at least two dozen sketch pages laid out in the center of the room
I move quickly and precisely across each sheet of paper
Slender fingers woven tight like a net around my pen
Until it cracks in the crucible of my fist
I simply toss it aside and reach for another
Harsh black ink running down my wrist and dripping to the floor
Stains reaching deep into the colorless carpet
Unnoticed
My series of diagrams completed, I return to my original perspective
I pause only long enough to wipe the ink off my hand with the corner of my bed sheet
Then I take the measuring tape and unravel it slowly
Wrapping the fragile ribbon around the shape of the box
Taking note of it’s measurements, down to the exact fraction of a millimeter
And recording it on a new page
Over and over again
Until I have the precise dimensions listed, double-checked and memorized
It’s purpose served, the measuring tape finds it’s way into the trash can
My inner ideation has become streamlined and convergent
Idle notions fall silent and disappear
Concentration is complete
Each new task is conceived, deciphered and done
Quietly, thoughtlessly and without question
Then on to the next step
Another pen shatters in my hand and is cast away
Quite painful this time
I tear a jagged shard of broken plastic out of my palm
Red emerges from black
Only to be wiped clean
Forlorn my flesh
A new pen is found and a new task is determined
I continue…
By nightfall I am living in a paper nest
Every inch of the floor is covered
Layer over layer taped to the walls
Stacked high upon my desk and my bed
Scraps of shredded notes folded and stuffed into my pockets
Measurements, drawings, imprinted textures
Random theories, mechanical blueprints of the lock’s innards, surface maps
Color diagrams, materials analysis, various test results
Hinge tracings, hypothesis charts and even tiny origami recreations
Every single piece of imaginable data, compiled, organized and evaluated
Next task…
Following a trail of data written into memory
My eyes dance between letters, numbers and shapes
Thinking, thinking, thinking
I chew my knuckles
My mouth fills with a bitter metallic taste
Comprehended and ignored
An endless pattern of paper cuts empties slowly
I see in my hands a blood-bordered maze
I stare through the pale guidelines
Following the progression of infection
Leading me towards…
The phone rings
Piercing my haze of concentration
I lose my way
The phone rings a second time
I reach behind me and grab the cord, effortlessly tearing it from the wall
Breaking off most of the socket casing with it
Electric sparks land on my back and burn out unseen
Silence returns
I was so close
The ultimate revelation was within my sight
And I failed to seize it
No, no, this is not the time for regrets
Next task…
Perhaps I need additional guidance
Maybe a fresh pair of eyes would serve me well
Pushing aside a paper tower, I reach my withered hand for the box
And let my fingers fall into the endless perfection of the mysterious inscription
There it is…
Everything I need to know is right there
Right in front of me
Suddenly appearing in my mind’s eye as if from nowhere
It’s all so obvious now
Then it’s over
I am returned to my room
With the path ahead of me now free of mystery
I know what I possess now
I’ve got a god in a box
What that means exactly, I am uncertain
But it is of the utmost importance that I keep it safe
Still I wonder, what is it?
An angel? A ghost?
Some gateway into the next world?
It could be the body of Christ
Or the meaning of life
It may be nothing but dead oxygen
It may be everything
I might have the whole world in my hands
This life, another, them all perhaps
One mystery becomes another…
Do you remember the story of Pandora?
She set loose all the evils of our world
Just by opening up her little box
Is this story being retold?
Then again, this might be Pandora’s antidote
A cure for this plagued Earth
The end of all sickness and sorrow
But our evils are not easily vanquished
And I fear the threat of further villainy
What new malice could be spawned forth from my hands?
This is a dangerous game
I must proceed with the utmost caution
I know what must be done  
To the first task…
I crawl across the room and tear furiously through my papers
Like a dog hunting for his buried treasure
Here it is…
Yes, yes, this is perfect
The map I have drawn shows me the way
Excellent
A drop of blood falls from between my fingers and lands on the page
And then another, and another
My hands have paid the physical price of this great burden
Fingers little more than thinly wrapped bones
Knuckles torn open
Stay strong my friends, vindication is coming
But first you must suffer one final ordeal
I’m sorry
Next task…
I tear a strip from my ruined bed sheet and wrap it around my left hand
Wound tight over my knuckles and across palm
Such is the cost of this obligation
So let it be done…
I lay my left hand down on the floor
And press down hard upon it with my left knee
This will be painful and I must keep my hand from recoiling
I take my last unbroken pen and put it in my mouth
Pressing my teeth down hard on it’s rigid plastic shell
With a heavy breath, I take my left thumb into the tight grip of my right hand
I close my eyes and bite down hard on the pen
So let it be done…
With a strength not my own, I violently tear my thumb from it’s hand
The room echoes the sickening sound of bone cracking
My teeth crush the pen into shards and my mouth fills with ink
Spitting black, I howl like a monster
The pain threatens to drag me down into unconsciousness
But I will not yield
Bubbling blood pours from the new hole in my mutilated hand
Moving quickly, I crawl to the tiny lamp in the corner of the room
This light has been burning for many days now
The heat should be sufficient to cauterize my wound
I press my open flesh against the boiling surface of the light bulb
Another primal scream escapes
This time I cannot resist
My head falls back and I slip into painless night
With my severed thumb still sealed tight in the crucible of my right fist
In my private darkness there are still no dreams
No sleep, no rest, no end to be found
The angels turn their backs
The devils look away
My homeless eternity…
Wake up
Red emerges from black
My senses slowly reconnect
The first gift from this new day is pain
My deformed hand still holds onto agony
Pale and quivering beneath scarlet shadows
My four remaining fingers are searching for their lost brother
Here it is, waiting on the other side
Cold and lifeless in my right palm
But the hour of bloodshed is over
All pieces will be made whole again
Once my work is done
My legs no longer respond to commands
And they give me very limited sensation
Seeming more like distant memories of a touch then a new encounter
It seems I’m turning against myself
Slowly I crawl to the center of the room
Pushing hundreds of pages out of my way
Blood and ink stains hover before me, burned into my sight
I find my pocket knife buried beneath a heap of paper fragments
Floating in a puddle of ink
The blade springs forth, steel shining radiant in the dim morning air
I guide the edge into that which was my flesh
Unflinching and unrepentant
Stripping back the withered fingerprint
Slicing dead tissue away from the bone
Until only a skeletal digit remains
Next task…
I find my “blueprint” of the box’s lock taped to the bedpost
I study it for intensely for several hours
Sight never straying from the page
Calculations are made, thoughts become shapes
The knife moves of it’s own volition
I cut the required notches and edges into the remains of my severed thumb  
The squeal of metal scratching against bone rings inside my head
Ever so carefully scraping away tiny white splinters of that which is no longer mine
By sunset, the key is forged
The only key
My finger bone key
It’s a key to the end of our world
Or a key to the new Heaven
Tomorrow will decide
Tomorrow I will open the box
Tonight I must wait and pray
But I do not
I spend the moonlit hours toying with my treasure
The key never leaves the safe grip of my hand
I do not sleep, I do not bow my head
Why would I have to do all of that anymore?
I’ve got a god in a box
And I like to rattle the cage
The power is mine, all of it
It’s my turn to play god now
What a delicious little slice of malevolence
I let loose a harsh laugh
It stings my throat
I cough up a splash of blackened blood
Painting my paper-covered walls with a dark shade of malignance
Which only makes me laugh more
I laugh and bleed until morning returns
Then the laughter stops
The bleeding slows
The red light hangs still in the air
I have the box cradled in my left arm
And my key waiting inches from the lock
I am uncertain as to what I should feel in this moment
Anticipation and curiosity, for certain
I also find a little bit of hope
Hope that maybe something truly wonderful will come from all of this
But with that, of course, comes the opposing feeling
The deep-rooted fear of doom, destruction and punishing judgment
Still there are remaining traces of hate and ignorance as well
Aimless now, without any more enemies to fight
I do not want the wrong emotion to control the hand that finally turns the key
Because that leftover ignorance is there for a reason
Some things I am not meant to know yet
That is what frightens me most on this day
Finally, I coax my arm forward and gently slide my key into the lock
A perfect fit
Biting my bruised lip and closing my tired eyes
I say a silent prayer, with hope that it does not come too late
So let it be done…
My wrist spins and the key turns
The lock responds with an accepting mechanical click
Suddenly, the pain is my wounded hand fades away
As if everything had been a dream
Cautiously, my eyes sneak open
Seeking first the bleeding sign of my sacrifice
But there is no such sign
I stare at my hands like a newborn first discovering sight and body
Unbelievable…
They are my hands again
Five fingers upon each, without scars, without cuts, without damage of any kind
They do not carry the weight of this burden anymore
I turn my attention now to the box
Where the skeletal key remains fixed within the lock
Miraculous…
I take the lock in my hand to remove it but there is no need
The metal becomes smoldering ash after a single touch
Falling to the floor as nothing more than sparkling dust
The last obstacle is behind me and I have reached the end of my quest
The moment of truth, so to speak
Without hesitation now, I take a gentle hold on the corners of the box’s lid
And, closing my eyes once more, I flip the lid open
Silence
Nothing happens…
I snap my eyes open again
Everything I see is exactly as it was before
I did everything right, didn’t I?
But, of course, I have yet to look inside
The treasure must be waiting within
So I tilt the box towards me and direct my hungry gaze inside
It’s very dark
It looks empty…
Black emerges from red
And that is the last thing I see
Every light in the world goes out at once
My eyes erupt with searing pain
They burn
I drop the box to the floor
As my hands instinctively retreat to protect my face
My fingers find a thick, scalding liquid running slowly down my cheeks
Like candle wax fleeing the fire
But there is no fire
Only hollow, empty eye sockets
The unholy touch has melted my eyes
Blinded me
Betrayed me
I scream hysterically, half in pain and half in rage
As I viciously claw at my fevered skin
With my perfect new fingernails
Writhing in agony on the floor
Then suddenly my left hand finds something familiar
The box
Maybe if I close it again, my sight will be returned to me
I roll over and slam the lid shut with as much force as I can summon
It seals up again, without a sound
Still enraptured with fury I rain my fists down upon it
Hammering the wood with a vengeful and uncontrollable hatred
Until I can again feel the blood start to drip from my fingertips
The box remains intact
Not even a single scratch
I spit blood upon it
Damn you, loathsome creation
I rescued you, protected you
Took care of you, even loved you
And how do you reward me?
With pain
With scars
You blinded me
Is this price of divinity?
Am I a god now too?
Of course not
Who would respect a mutilated, sightless god?
All the sacred benevolence of Heaven
Gives me perpetual darkness
Curse you to the bottom of Hell’s heart
I rue the day that brought you here
Devil
False prophet
I weep uncontrollably now
Am I crying blood?
I lick a tear drop from my lip as it rolls down the front of my face
Yes, I am now crying blood
Thank you lord
What do I have to do to be worthy of your mercy?
I gave up everything
I haven’t eaten in over a week
Not a wink of sleep for days
Steadfastly balancing between discipline and psychosis
I served what I thought was a noble cause
Because I believed that the world was worth saving
Thank you for showing me otherwise
Oh god, what have I done?
I weep for all souls now
Forgive me, please, forgive me
Fumbling through the mess on my floor, I grab the first piece of paper I can find
And dip my right index finger into a puddle on the carpet
It could be blood or ink, I can’t tell and I don’t care
Then I blindly press my finger down on the page and begin to write
Slowly, tediously threading through the clumsy shapes of the letters
Like an infant finger-painting for the very first time
This is my confession, my plea for salvation
I pour all that I am into these words
I fill one page, so I find another and continue
Prayers, confessions, regrets
Solemn vows that I will honor with all my soul
When I have written all that can be said
I collect all my new pages and hold them tightly to my heart
I open the lid of the box once more
Long enough to drop my pages inside and not one moment longer
Then, just as quickly, it is closed again
So now I wait
I wait and pray
The box still clenched tight in my arm, I drag myself towards my bed
With excruciating effort I manage to climb back up
It feels so good to lie here once again
Even if my pillow has been replaced by a stack of dirty papers
And a shard of plastic from a shattered pen is poking me in the ribs
I place the box atop my chest and wrap my arms around it securely
If I’m going to Hell, you’re coming with me
I lie there, silently praying for countless hours
I don’t even notice the shift between night and day anymore
The beauty of a sunrise has no meaning to me now
And the full moon has no power over the eyeless
I finally fall asleep
Real sleep, for the first time in days
There, I dream once more
The bizarre, horrific and disgusting dreams that I loathed before
But now I welcome the monsters into my mind
Because in dreams, I can see again
Hey, King Minos, I like your crown
And there I am, right at the center of the party
Standing arm in arm with the same captivating woman who haunted me many nights ago
There I am, Pandora’s concubine
My dear, I loved you most of all…
But then the inferno returns
As I speak, flames pour forth from my mouth
Slithering through the air like exploding serpents
Where is everyone going?
But the dream is over now
And the fire is still burning
Though I cannot see it, I can certainly feel it
The flames creeping up my arms
Chewing away my flesh
Devouring me alive
But it doesn’t hurt anymore
Now every inch of my body is set ablaze
I tighten my hold on the box even more
But as the fire burns my muscle tissue away, I loose my grip
With horror I feel my treasure slip out of my embrace
And fall heavily to the ground
I try to roll off the bed and find it again
The fire will not allow me to move my body anymore
So I reach out with my left hand
Grasping desperately for my box
Even as my skin melts and drips away from my bones
But I cannot reach it
I finally brush against that beautiful wooden surface with the tip of my thumb
For one perfect moment
Before my bones break apart and fall away from me
I pray as I feel my skeleton collapsing
Purify me with this fire
Let that which destroys my body make me whole again
God help me….