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Exhibit Hall For the exhibition of artistic creations by our members, from poetry and prose to drawings, photography, and digital art.

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Old Jun 8 2008, 03:15 AM   #1
Myt
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Default Boxes

K, this is a story I wrote for English. I was told it was my best....

Boxes

Packing
One box after another, full of the objects of a person’s life.
Here is the cup that she got for her birthday.
A medal for music.
A painting.
A painting with two people, walking in the rain.

That is what started it all, isn't it?
Two people.


Two people who loved one another so much.

You had to interfere, didn't you?
But I didn't, it was him.
Him, who is packing the boxes.

Away go the photos, the tablecloths and all the little trinkets.
Away go the knives, the forks, and the spoons.
All into that big cardboard box.
A box of memories.

You did not help though, did you?No, I guess not.
I let them both think I loved them.

Can she see me?
No. She can see him, and you can see her,
but he can not see anyone.


Away go the sheets, pillowcases and towels.
The removalists are coming tomorrow.
The away will go the bed, the lounge and the tables.
All the furniture in the house.

Why did you both let them think you loved them?
Why do you want to know?
I'm just interested, that's all
I did love them both, but in different ways.

Both of us? How so?
If you listen you might learn something.

Away with the plates, bowls and cups.

How did you love the first man?
I loved him so much, I was ready to settle down with him.
And the second?
I loved him just much, but we never could have settled down.


Settle down? I thought it was just fun. Oh no.
What is it?
I kept them apart. Not him keeping us apart.

Away go pots and pans, away a tear is wiped.

But which one was in the car, when it crashed?
The first, he was drunk.
And who is packing up all your things?
The second...who are you?
Who do you think I am?
What are you doing here?
Helping you to understand.

I was drunk. If I hadn't been so stupid it might have
worked out.

Do you think you were stupid?
Yes.

More tears are wiped away, then fall more quickly,
so fast they cannot be stopped.

Making me feel guilty.
No. This is just something you had to learn.

She shouldn't feel guilty. It was my fault!
Are you trying to make me feel guilty?

You both have to learn this. I'm sorry.
If you are, it’s working.

More tears, silent sobs. He whispers silently "I love you"
I love you too. I am so sorry.
He cannot hear you.

I'm so sorry!
Who are you saying sorry to?
Her. No, both of them.
I should have let them be together.

Neither of them can hear you.

The tears continue to fall.

He does not even know you are here.
How does he not? I live here.
Lived here. No more.




We're dead?
You are, and she is.
Did I kill us? In the car crash?
Yes.

Back to packing.
Away goes the jewellery, presents from both men.
Kept in separate boxes until now they lay.
A jumble of silver and gold.

He gave me the silver,
A slight incline of the head towards him.
He knew I loved the silver.
I wish he knew I loved him. More than I knew.


She did. Love the silver.
Do you think he knows she loved him?
I don't know. I hope so.

More things go into the box, faster and faster he tips them,
as if he is frightened and wants them to disappear into the box.
A box for hiding.

Now come the clothes.
The clothes she loved.
The clothes people thought she loved.
The clothes she kept out of politeness.
The clothes she bought herself.
Tipped away, one after the other, into the box,
like so many bad memories.
A box for forgetting.

Will he forget me too?
Perhaps. Perhaps he will miss you forever.
Perhaps he will move on with his life,
but you will always be there, at the back of his mind.

I hope he moves on.

The tears continue, one after the other, streams running down his face.

What happened to the other man?
The other man?
The first man. The one in the car. Did he die?
Yes.
Oh.


She has no idea that I'm just here, does she?
No. She cannot see or hear you. I may have said that before.
I think you did.

The tears stop. Now he stares into the box,
as if hoping for something to happen.
A box of hopelessness.
Or a box of hopefulness.

Should I be here?
Do you think you should?
No. I should not be here.
Then we shall leave.
I hope he will be happy, sometime soon.

Should I leave too?
That is your decision. Not mine.
I wish I could apologise. That I could somehow make it right.
Do you think an apology would fix it?
No. She'd still be dead, I'd still be dead, and he'd still be alone.
But maybe they could forgive me
.

I think I should leave.
Then let's go.
I hope that he'll find someone and I hope that she'll forgive me.
Do you think you can forgive yourself?
I don't know.

Are you ready to leave now?
Yes. It’s time to go.
I know you can’t hear me, but I am so sorry.


He raises his head. For a few minutes it had felt like she was there with him, but now, nothing.
Nothing at all.
Nothing but him and the box.
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Old Jun 8 2008, 11:18 PM   #2
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Default Re: Boxes

I like it. I am in the mood for sad at the moment, so it fit my mood.
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Old Jun 14 2008, 04:17 AM   #3
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Default Re: Boxes

I'm glad you liked it
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Old Jun 14 2008, 08:20 PM   #4
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White Re: Boxes

I know the feeling very well. Also the joy of find something you had not seen in a long time
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