Wednesday 6 July 2016

Odd fiction

So I recently wrote a piece of short fiction inspired by a conversation with a friend, where one of us said something about "living at the bottom of a cereal box." We sort of both paused and looked at one another, and then she said, "That would make a good story."

So I wrote a story about a child who lives at the bottom of a cereal box.

It's as bizarre as it sounds, but I'm inclined to think it isn't terrible, though it certainly isn't for everyone. It's very short, and doesn't have a conventional plot. However, I'd really love some feedback on this, so give it a quick read and let me know what you think :)



Untitled
This is a story about a child who lived at the bottom of a cereal box.
This child’s name is Samuel, and one can see from the start that Samuel’s story is hardly typical, not in the least because its conclusion has yet to be reached.
You see, most stories begin after the fact. They are a recounting of events past. Samuel’s story is ongoing, and shall be for quite some time.
Right this second, Samuel sits at the bottom of his cereal box. Where the cereal box is, he does not know. He has a vague understanding of where such items end up, but he can never be sure so long as he lives inside the box.
He remembers the children in the factory where he came from, his friends before they were packaged and placed in their own boxes. They always did wonder what would happen once they were placed in their boxes. Samuel remembers the stories they told about the big people who took the cereal boxes into their homes and would collect the children from their cardboard bottoms.
This frightens Samuel. He does not wish to be collected from the bottom of his cereal box. It is a simple, safe place. There is the occasional jostling and shaking, and sometimes he thinks he can hear voices coming from the other side of his box’s wall, but it is an otherwise peaceful existence. Some children are scared by their boxes, by the dark and the oppressive boundaries of their homes, longing for the freedom and possibility of the outside world. But not Samuel. Samuel is a simple fellow, and a simple life holds the most appeal to him.
Hence his fear.
What will he do when the day comes that his simple life is interrupted? He has never experienced the world before, and he would prefer to keep it that way. His friends in the factory always did tell stories of the outside world. Of course, none of them had ever experienced it firsthand; all cereal box children go straight from the confines of the factory to the safe darkness of their cereal boxes. Yet the fact remains that the world has always seemed to Samuel a scary place.
They say that some cereal box children find happiness in the world, when the big people free them into the light. Some big people cherish and love their cereal box children, embracing them and helping them face the terrifyingly boundless new world beyond their safe havens. This thought is intimidating, but it does not frighten Samuel.
What frightens him are the other stories he hears, of children being left and forgotten, stolen from the safety of their boxes only to be tossed aside when the big people grow bored. As Samuel now sits in his box, wondering if he can hear voices on the other side of his wall, he remembers these stories and fights back tears. He must be strong.
The balancing of safety with freedom is one of life’s great paradoxes. As comfortable as Samuel’s cereal box may be, it is indeed a prison. One cannot experience life from the confines of a cereal box, however cozy that box may be.
Samuel does not understand this truth. All that the poor cereal box child can understand is the fear as his world is shaken and voices come from above.
Will he be cherished, in the open world, he wonders? Will his big person care for him, or will he be discarded, as he has heard so many are?
He sees a light above, the outside world seeping in. Samuel is scared.
This is not the end of his story.
Only a page break.



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