Little Boxes

Little Boxes
*
 When I opened the matchbox and 
looked inside, I naturally 
expected to find something, 
because there’s usually 
something in boxes and containers. 
I wasn’t expecting matches — no, 
definitely not! I wasn’t that 
unimaginative, after all. But 
there was nothing inside except a 
small spinning disc with a spiral 
painted on it. It looked like a 
whirlwind, but one trapped in 
a box. I’d never seen anything 
like it before. Without 
thinking, I spread myself thin 
and leapt into the blue spiral 
vortex. Instantly, I felt dizzy. 
Everything spun around me, and 
suddenly, I was sitting in a 
meadow, where a tree stood, 
solitary, but strong. Oddly, 
matchboxes hung from its 
branches like fruit. I picked 
one and looked inside. Of 
course, I expected to find 
something. Matches? No, definitely 
not! I wasn’t that 
unimaginative now. But once again, 
there was nothing inside except a 
small spinning disc with a spiral, 
like the one I had just 
encountered. A whirlwind, trapped in 
a box. It was all too familiar.
Once more, I spread myself thin 
and jumped into the blue spiral 
vortex. The dizziness 
returned, this time even 
stronger, and when the spinning 
stopped, I was back in the 
meadow, only now there were more 
trees—trees with matchboxes growing 
on them. I plucked one, my hand 
hesitating over the lid.
But this time, I was afraid 
to look inside.