Opened Box

Preface

There is a place you can go, called the Opened Box.

Ironically most of it is underground, and nobody knows how far the tunnels go. The people are strange, and the shadows are wicked. What else could you expect? There is always room at the Opened Box.

To get there, look for a wood, or an area of bush, or somewhere trees have grown more then they should. Is there a cupboard box there? Good, sometimes the tunnels don't, in fact, reach that far.

Before you hop in, you better go say goodbye to your loved ones, and grab some food, while you're at it. The walk is a far one, underground. And who knows when you might return?

Some people never do.

After you've entered the fairly large, damp box, you might see a slide made of mud. The newer slides sre usually made out of plastic, but the deaths that come from collapsing slides and such are hardly any.

To go down the slide, you must be most certain, and doubt having left your mind. The way down is a sudden drop, and air leaves you quickly in a place like this.

Do you want us to go first?

When you land, you may find out that you've awakened from passing out. We told you air leaves quickly, understand why it's not a good place for a panic attack?

Now that you've picked yourself up from the pillows and mattresses, you may find a dark, dreadful tunnel. Are you sure?

Are you absolutely sure?

Stronger people then you have tried to crawl and climb their way back up the slide. Some of them almost reach the top before dying.

Oh, you are sure.

Come then, pull that little string. The christmas lights hungs up and down the walls of the tunnel are subject to flickering and going out. Sometimes, they like to chew, you see...

If the lights flickers, even for a second, you run.

Is that all? Will you go now? Good, we knew we picked you for a reason. We have got to take our leave, more children to meet, you see.

Goodbye.

Chapter one

He blinks a few times, and it's like everything suddenly got duller. This didn't seem so fun anymore, but the old man was gone.

Why did this seem like a good decision in the first place? He misses his brothers already, he hopes he doesn't die down here. He was subject to anxiety attacks, and he could already feel the need to breathe.

But there was hardly any air down here to beguin with.

Deciding he may as well find out what's at the end of the tunnel, he picks his bag from where it lay beside his feet. It was hot down here, he took off his jacket, and tied it around his waist.

Before entering the damp, endless tunnel, he made sure to look back at the mouth of the slide.

That man couldn't have been human, he said so himself that people died when trying to crawl back up. Either that, or this is some cheap trick; there's a hidden door somewhere, and he's going to be sold off to someone random.

God, he is stupid.

The sound of his shoes echoed through out the tunnel, he tried to hum so the dread and unease wouldn't swallow him whole.

He wasn't doing a good job.

The Christmas lights hung haphazardly on each wall were almost colourless, and throwing off only a small amount of light. His feet sunk into the dirt each time he took a step, his shoes leaving imprints.

Breadcrumbs.

He continued to walk for maybe an hour, he hadn't thought to bring his watch, he hadn't thought to do anything that the old man hadn't said.

The sports he played after school, and the games he won and lost had helped with his breathing, and with the way his legs were starting to burn slightly.

Almost pleasantly.

It was when he was getting tired, and the lights were starting to weaken in light, and he was sure there was someone, just behind him in the dark, that everything suddenly brightened, and there was an opening at the end of the tunnel.

He smiled, and not even the flickering of the lights cound have dampened his mood. Not even the scuffling behind him, or the heavy breathing that wasn't his own. No, he had made it.

He had to blink rapidly once he stepped out of the tunnel, it was brighter, but still dark.

The artificial lighting was giving him a headache. He was still looking around at all the people and trying to rememeber what he was doing, when a girl walked up to him.

She was younger then he was, and her left eye was missing. All that was left was the hole, stitched and scabbed over with what looked like infection biting at the edges.

"Hello, sir. My name is Winnie the waitress, at your service." She took his arm in hers, and walked away from the tunnel. He looked back, seeing something darker slowly go back  deeper inside.

He swallowed and looked down at her, letting her drag him to a small area of booths, all nineties style.

"Sit down here, and I'll go get you a serving of pancakes. What type of milkshake would you like? Is chocolate okay?" He looked down at the table when she left, moving his hand over all the little sharpie drawings, and the names etched into the wood.

He's wasted his life away.

When Winnie came back, he looked at her with his best polite smile. Hopefully this was all a dream.

The plate she placed down in front of him was brown in colour, and the pancakes were no different. His nose wrinkled slightly as he eyed the tall glass of supposed milkshake.

Only mud came to mind.

He looked up as Winnie sat across from him, fixing her little blue cap on her head. He waited for her to speak, for he knew she was working a speech in her mind. He could almost smile at the way her lips moved, and the way she blushed once she noticed him watching her.

He sat up straighter as she coughed, and brought both her hands to lay flat against the table. He tried to ignore the way some of her fingernails had been torn off.

"Welcome to the Opened Box, my name is Winnie," she stared over his shoulder, chewing her lip as if to remember the speech she probably had written down somewhere.

A tall, white painted man bumped into the table, causing the tall milkshake to spill slightly. Winnie flinched before grabbing a pebble from her apron pocket, aiming before throwing it at the man who was almost three booths away.

The pebble hit, and the man tripped before falling.

"As I was saying... welcome! This is the main area, though you won't want to spend too much time here. This is the number one place for fights, and for gang meetings. Also, don't get too close to the tunnels. Rat might try and grab you." She smiled and stood up  walking over to the white painted man who was now limping away.

When she came back, her hands were dripping with somebody elses blood.

"Since you haven't said a word, and you have quite a polite manner, I won't need to tell you to keep to yourself. People aren't too kind down here mister... I never did get your name." He coughed, trying to get his tongue to work.

Finally, words seemed to escape his mouth.

"Ben. My name's Ben, and where do I go if I'm not here?" Winnie reached her hand over to shake his, and Ben had to bit his cheek to stop the grimance at the thought of somebody else's blood on his hands.

"Well, Mister Ben, there are a few places you can go. See all those weird doorways, staircases, and slides? Those all lead to different places. Be careful though, 'cause you might get lost." Ben nodded, dipping his pinky into the milkshake. Winnie watched him with a hawk-like eye, smiling once Ben brought it up to his lips.

Chocolate.

"Did you have trouble? When you first got here, I mean?" Ben immediately regretted it at the blush that crept up Winnie's neck, at the way her one working eye narrowed, and her lips thinned.

"No. I was born here, we have to know our way around. Especially in a place like this. The older kids try and teach the younger ones, to memerize the layout." Ben swallowed, letting his eyes fall to the table.

He always had a big mouth, hadnt he?

Clearing his throat, he grabbed the glass of milkshake, and brought the straw to his lips. It didn't taste as nice as the one's up at home, and there was a faint odour about it. But he wasn't going to turn down Winnie's chocolate milkshake, not now that he had offended her.

After drinking at least half the glass, and Winnie nodding at the left over milkshake with something like satisfation gleaming her eye, Ben felt like he could talk again.

"Does everyone, when they first come down here, get a run down?" Winnie looked down at her hands, probably going through all the things she could and couldn't say to him.

"Well, yes. If a person does leave, we know if they've been down here before when they come out of the tunnel." Ben nodded, moving on to the pancakes. There was even chocolate chips melted into it, his mouth watered slightly as he picked up a knife and fork.

He'd only brought a packet of chips, and those hadn't lasted long in his walk through the tunnel. Stressing had always made him hungry.

Winnie seemed even more pleased after he placed the knife and fork back down, his single pancake polished. He felt like he could ask another question, perhaps after drinking the rest of his milkshake.

He only had a bit left that couldn't be sucked up with the skinny, green straw. Then he realised how empty all the other booths were.
"Are you the only waitress? Are new comers here rare?" She smiled, and leaned forward, the crinkles beside both of her eyes becoming more present. He smiled too, though he tried not to stare at her missing eye.

"Well, actually, the people born and raised in the Box are most destined to become waiters and waitresses. We don't get many new comers, because only selected people, with the selected mindsets, are brought down here." His smile fell a bit, and he brought the sleeve of his shirt to wipe at his mouth.

Before he could ask any more questions, Winnie stood up with his plate and his cup in her hands, the knife and fork in her apron.

Ben watched her walk over to what he guessed to be the cooking and waitering station, a little limp in her step that he almost didn't noticed.

He swallowed down all his fears when she turned around and smiled at him. He was scared, but she must have been so, too.

At least once in her life, down here in the dark and artificial glow of christmas lights.