The Box

“I mean, come on, we have to check it out. We have to!” Eric burst, practically in shock that he was unable to convince his girlfriend or his best friend to go with him to find the box.

“I don’t know, man,” Armon said, his tone short but pensive.

“It does seem a little out of the way, Eric,” Emily added as she scrolled through her phone on Eric’s bed. “Plus, isn’t doing something that a bunch of missing people have done probably not a good idea?”

“Lots of people go missing,” Eric replied. “We’ve been looking for something fun to do, and this isn’t that out of the way.”

“You know what?” Armon chimed, sitting up as much as he could on the inflatable bean bag in Eric’s room. “Screw it, I’m in.”

“Seriously?” Emily questioned, putting her phone down. “You guys really wanna go missing that bad?”

“We won’t go missing,” said Eric.

“Yeah, we’ve got . . . ” Armon hesitated. “ . . . gumption.”

“You don’t even know what that means,” Eric said, shooting his friend a sarcastically skeptical look.

Armon didn’t hesitate in his reply, “You don’t have to know what it means, you’ve just gotta have it!”

“Well I’m not interested,” Emily interjected. “I still have some college applications to fill out.”

“Oh geez,” Armon said, rolling his eyes. “Now I really wanna go missing.”

“Come with us,” Eric pushed. “You don’t have to go to the box or touch it or anything, just come see it. It’s the first Saturday of spring break, and we’ve got nothing better to do”

Emily thought over her options before replying, “Alright, I’ll go, but if we all die it’s your fault.” She raised a finger and an eyebrow to Eric, revealing a slight smirk under her cool demeanor.

“Hey,” Eric said, putting his hands up. “Full responsibility.”

“Hell yeah,” said Armon, picking himself up from the bean bag. “Let’s get out of this stuffy room.”

“My room isn’t stuffy!” Eric defended. “Is it?”

“No,” Emily replied. “Just a little smelly.” She smiled to herself as she bounced out of the room.

Armon laughed at the jab, then said, “Hey man, I think you smell great.”

“Thanks buddy,” Eric said, and the two followed Emily out to her car.

The trio drove for a little over an hour and a half, around eighty-three miles into mountain country. The exact location of The Box was not known, but the area around it was. The Box was supposedly near an abandoned mining town, a ghost town called Oblim which lay deep in the mountains. Fortunately for the three friends, Eric had some old paper maps, and Oblim was still on them.

Eric had overheard a few peers at school talking about the box earlier that week. Supposingly another senior in his grade had found the box the week before, but had disappeared a few days ago without a trace. When he got home later that day, Eric had decided to research the seemingly aw snatching subject. After scrolling through an extensive list of news articles, Eric had discovered that the box had been ruled nothing more than an urban legend for decades, with no one sure of its existence outside of the grapevine. Recently, more people had discovered its location, and the legend became true. The box had gathered a small cult following around its mysterious purpose and existence. Those who dared sought out the mysterious box, only to disappear soon afterwards. Eric was vastly intrigued. Surely no one just disappeared. Right? He was about to find out.

“Hey, look,” Emily whispered to Eric as she rounded another turn along the mountain highway.

Eric looked up from his place in the passenger seat. Hanging off of the side of the road up ahead, barely visible through the trees, there was a cluster of wooden structures laid along a dirt road. Emily took an old exit that had clearly never been paved over or improved. The ruddy pavement, then dirt path was laden with potholes and was partly overgrown, but it wasn’t enough to deter the group from trudging onward.

Armon lifted his head from the backseat, the dip and plunge of a pothole pulling him from his slumber, “We here already?” he asked, surprised, rubbing his eyes.

“Just took the exit,” Eric confirmed.

Emily pulled into the small town, stopping in front of one of the abandoned shops down the town's main street, the town's only street. The three unbuckled and hopped out of the car, taking in the new location.

“Weird,” said Emily. “It feels empty, but not.”

“Yeah,” Armon agreed. “Like there’s nobody here for a reason. Like we shouldn’t be here.” Armon swept his gaze around the street, then brought it back to Eric. “Well, where is this thing?”

Eric shrugged, “Let’s take a look around.”

The three friends spent some time ducking into abandoned shops and exploring the creepy ghost town. They searched high and low in every building, but after an hour of coming up empty handed, they all agreed to a new plan. They all piled back into Emily’s car and followed the more dangerous path down to the old mine. They only made it halfway down the barren road before they decided to ditch the car and walk the remainder of the way. When they finally arrived at the mouth of the old mine they all took a moment to catch their breath and go over their next steps.

“Okay, Eric started. “We’ve gotta be really careful in there. We’ll use our phone lights to see. Who knows what types of unstable structures or old TNT is in there or whatever.”

“Yeah, and watch out for Bigfoot, too,” Armon added. His sarcastic remark was met by smug looks from his companions. “What?” he asked. “You never know, man.”

“Alright, I’ll go first,” Eric said, moving into the carelessly boarded entrance.

Just as Eric stepped inside of the old mining shaft, Emily called to him. “Wait!” she said in a whisper-yell in his direction.

Eric spun to face her and raised his arms as though to say, “What?”

“You need to look at this!” she whisper-yelled again.

Eric backed out of the opening to see what Emily was talking about. It didn’t take him long to spot the figure downhill from in the trees. The man wore a dark cloak, with a hood drawn up over his head. A large staff accompanied his figure, and while Eric couldn’t see the man’s face, it was more than obvious that the hooded man was watching them.

“Who the hell is that?” Armon asked, attempting to inject his voice with some sense of sarcasm, but the quavers in his throat shorted his attempt.

“What do we do?” Emily asked, her voice holding a shake of its own.

The mysterious man then turned and walked down further into the forest, partially disappearing in the trees. Before anyone could question the strange figure’s sudden appearance, Eric began to move down the hill after the man.

“What, wait!” Armon stammered. “Where are you going?”

“I’m following him,” Eric replied. “Trust me, I just have a feeling.”

Eric felt hesitation from his friends behind him, but footsteps soon pursued his uncertainty down the hill and into the trees.

The trio moved quickly to make pace with the man, but they were able to keep him within view as his shadow bobbed in and out of the surrounding foliage. After a few minutes of pursuit, Eric stopped.

“Why are you stopping?” Emily questioned. “He’s still moving!”

Eric raised a hand to his girlfriend and replied, “We’re close.”

He was unsure if Emily or Armon were sensing the same tone that he was, but he could hear, somehow feel the air shift around him. A light thrumming had taken the surrounding area, and Eric swung his head from right to left in an attempt to determine where it was coming from.

“This way,” Eric finally spoke as he moved further into the forest, this time not in the same direction of the man they had been following.

“What’s gotten into him?” Armon asked Emily.

“I’m not sure,” Emily replied. “But this whole situation is kind of freaking me out.”

Despite their uncertainty of Eric’s new disposition, they followed him deeper into the trees.

Another couple minutes of walking dropped the group of three into a small clearing. There, in the middle of the clearing, hung a cement cube suspended three or four feet in the air. The moment Eric noticed what they had found, the thrumming around his body ceased. The concrete box was around six feet long, wide, and tall on each side, and had been tagged all over with various forms of graffiti. Eric, Emily, and Armon circled the mystical box, marveling over how it was able to hold itself in such animation above the ground. From the naked eye, the box did not appear to be attached to any chords or rope. It was simply floating.

“This is it,” Eric finally spoke, breaking the sustained silence.

“Holy, I mean, this is crazy,” Armon added, breathless with wonder.

“This is the strangest day of my life, I swear,” Emily agreed.

“Okay man,” Armon said, bringing his eyes to Eric. “What now?”

“I don’t know,” Eric admitted, turning his gaze upward. “Help me get on top.”

Emily looked strangely over to Eric, but Armon stepped to the box, kneeling down and hinging his fingers together. Armon nodded his friend over, and Eric stepped into Armon’s hands, resting his own hands against the cold, tagged concrete. Armon pushed with his feet against the ground, hoisting Eric vertically against the cube. Eric reached up and curled his fingers over the top of the box.

“Got it!” Eric exclaimed, pulling himself up the rest of the way. Eric’s feet scrambled against the cement surface for a brief moment, but he was able to pull himself on top.

“What’s up there?” Emily asked.

“A hatch,” Eric responded, looking over the edge back down at his friends.

“Sweet dude, open it up!” Armon urged.

Eric shrugged his shoulders then disappeared out of view. A grunt and the squeal of rusted metal confirmed that Eric had opened the hatch on top.

“What is it? What’s in there?” Emily called up to him.

“Uh, nothing,” Eric’s echoed voice came from up top as he dipped his head into the hatch. “Dust, more graffiti inside.”

“Can you get in?” Armon asked.

“What?” Emily exclaimed. “Don’t make him get in!”

“Yeah, I can definitely fit through this thing,” Eric affirmed.

“Do it!” Armon yelled.

“No!” Emily shouted.

“I’m going in, I’ll be right back!” Eric called out.

Emily gritted her teeth as she heard the thud of Eric’s feet against the concrete on the inside.

Eric scanned his new surroundings from the inside of the box to see if he had missed anything. Nothing. He was simply in a odd, cold box. A box that was floating, in the middle of the forest, by a ghost town. Eric stood at five feet and eleven inches in height, so he was left to stoop awkwardly so as to not scrape his head against the inside of the box.

Cool, Eric thought anticlimactically to himself.

He reached up to pull himself out of the box, but his hands met the rusted metal hatch instead. Eric looked above him in brief terror. He didn’t close the hatch behind him, let alone hear the hatch close.

What the hell is going on?

Eric’s heart rate began to quicken as he pushed against the hatch to no avail. He pounded on the door in hope that someone outside would hear him. He was only able to hit the hatch a few times before something very strange happened; the box spun onto its side.

Outside of the box, Emily and Armon waited for Eric’s assessment of the cube to be over. The afternoon was slipping into evening, and the air was growing steadily cooler around them.

“I hope he hurries,” Emily said. “I’m ready to get the hell out of here.”

“Yeah, me too,” Armon agreed.

Both patiently paced alongside the levitating enigma. Emily held her arms close to herself in an attempt to conserve the fading warmth.

“Oh my god,” Emily muttered, freezing in her steps.

Armon moved to respond, but his attempt was rendered unnecessary as he caught what Emily was seeing.

“It’s him,” Emily spoke again. “From before.”

The two stared anxiously at the darkly robed figure who stood just beyond the treeline. The man was facing them, unmoving with staff in hand.

“What do we do?” Armon whispered.

“I don’t know,” Emily whispered through her teeth.

A freshly disturbed brier quickly abducted the duo's attention, and as Emily spun her head around her shoulders, her eyesight gauged more hooded figures buried in the forest.

“No way,” Armon muttered as he witnessed the same thing. “Absolutely not. This is how people go missing. We’re about to be sacrificed.”

Emily’s insides were thoroughly racked with panic, but she tried to breath cooly to keep herself calm.

More figures were beginning to emerge beyond the treeline, and no matter where the pair looked their eyes were met with a dark hood and a chilling feeling.

“Eric!” Armon shouted, keeping his sight trained on the figures emerging in the forest. “Time to go, man!”

None of the cloaked strangers had entered the clearing, but their presence was growing more overbearing by each passing second.

“Now!” Armon yelled again, his voice breaking over the treetops.

Emily reached into her pocket and pulled out a miniature can of pepper spray. The defense weapon was key chained to her car keys, but did not look nearly big enough to fend off an entire cult. Armon grabbed the downed limb of a tree, and brandished the branch before him like an awkward baseball bat. With each visual sweep of the forest, more figures seemed to appear, and they began to grow closer, some even stepping foot into the clearing. The box was surrounded. The trio was trapped.

Eric slammed unnecessarily hard into the adjacent wall, which had now become the new floor of the box as it had just flipped 90 degrees. Propping himself up on his hands and knees, Eric quickly utilized his new angle in an attempt to force open the hatch. He failed again as he rammed his body into the rusty door, and the box rolled again. This time, the box managed to tumble a full 270 degrees back the way it came. Eric fell hard against the hatch, catching his head before it could slam into the concrete surface. Standing again, and remembering the boxes eerie levitation off the ground, Eric raised his foot to stomp on the hatch door. Before he made contact with the closed door, however, the box twisted again, this time 180 degrees to the left. Eric flipped helplessly onto the floor where had originally stood and stared up at the closed doorway. He took a moment to catch his breath.

Am I being punked? He thought to himself. Surely Armon hadn’t figured out a way to roll the box? Maybe since it was already suspended in the air it was easier to roll? What the hell is go- Eric’s thoughts were cut short as the box flipped 90 degrees onto its side again. Eric rolled backwards with the box, landing roughly on his knees.

“Hey!” he shouted as the box rolled again, sending Eric against the opposing wall. “Stop that!” Eric’s attempts at getting whoever was doing this to stop were futile as the box continued to roll and turn, flipping and tumbling the poor teenager in each and every direction. Eric began to scream in frustration. Each time the box rolled he tried to predict the movement so he could save himself, but each attempt was fruitless. Time and time again Eric was tossed haphazardly around the box. There was nothing he could do.

Then, suddenly, as though a switch had been flicked or a button pushed, the box ceased in its tumbling and twisting and fell still. The hatch was again positioned above Eric, and he seized the moment of stillness to jump against the doorway. The hatch burst open above him, and without a second of reconciliation, Eric pushed himself up and out of the hatchway.

Emily heard the clatter of metal against concrete, and her vision shot above the box to see Eric clambering out. Eric hurriedly crawled over the edge of the box, practically falling to the ground in a panicked frenzy.

“Eric!” Emily shouted as she watched him crumble against the forest floor under the weight of his impact.

Eric took hurrid, heavy breaths as he reached for his friends.

Armon dashed over to the two, joining Emily and Eric as he knelt against the ground. “Eric,” he started. “We’ve gotta go man, like, right now!” Armon gestured aggressively to the forest area around them, and looked around himself to accompany his action. Armon had to perform a quick double take, though, as he could no longer see any of the mysterious figures that had accompanied the forest only moments before. “What the-” he began.

“No, no time,” Emily said as she noticed the same lack of cloaked creeps. “We leave, now!”

Departing the forest had not been so simple as entering. Eric, for whatever reason, was covered in scrapes and bruises, and Armon and Emily were pale as ghosts from their near encounter with the strange, hooded people. The company's newfound adrenaline worked in their favor, though, as they all managed to maintain a near sprint uphill back to Emily’s car. None of them had ever run so fast in their lives, and it had been a quiet ride home after that. Eric and Armon both crashed from the exhaustion, and Emily managed to drive them safely back into town.

They all reconvened back in Eric’s room, the events all still fresh to discuss. The group of three sat in silence until the sun set before they opened any semblance of discussion.

“Okay,” Emily began, opening the floor. “Can we talk about what happened? Please?”

Eric looked guardedly up at her and nodded.

“I thought we were seriously about to get killed,” Armon said. “Eric, when you were taking your time in that box, there were like a hundred of those cult looking freaks. They surrounded us, and I can’t explain how much I thought we were gonna be their next sacrifices.”

Eric glanced from Armon to Emily. The slight bow of Emily’s head and unwavering shock in her expression confirmed Armon’s story. They had been really scared.

“So you guys weren’t pushing the box while I was inside of it?” Eric asked. “You didn’t, roll it around?”

“Roll it around?” Armon questioned.

“Yeah,” said Eric, picking himself up from his slouch. “When I got in the box, the hatch door I used to enter closed. Then the box started rolling. It rolled onto every side and tossed me around like I was inside a maraca. That’s how I got all these scrapes.” Eric referenced the bumps and abrasions on his knees, elbows, and face.

“No man, we weren’t messing with the box,” Armon clarified.

“I didn’t even notice it moving,” said Emily. “But we were a bit preoccupied with the whole, cult thing, I guess.”

There was another strong moment of silence.

“Do you think they’re gonna come after us?” Eric asked, referencing to the cloaked people his friends had been terrorized by.

“I don’t know, it’s possible,” Emily said as she stared into the floor. “Maybe they were supposed to grab us and got spooked by something. Maybe we got lucky?”

“Fat chance,”said Armon, turning his head to Eric. “Didn’t you say that people who visited the box went missing after the first few days?”

Eric nodded solemnly and said, “Yeah. Yeah I did say that.”

“Great. Sounds like we’ve only got a few days left then,” Armon said, standing, his joke sinking in the bitterness of his voice. “I’m going home. You won’t see me till this whole thing blows over. Had a great time man, thanks.” Armon’s lame sarcasm made its point, and the friend exited the room and left the house.

“I’m sorry,” Eric said to Emily. “I thought it was just some stupid thing.”

“Not right now, Eric,” Emily replied. “I just want to go home.” Emily walked past Eric and left him in his room.

Eric spent the night just trying to fall asleep. Every effort he made to close his eyes were met with images of the box floating in the clearing of the forest, covered in graffiti. Eric had not been able to read any of the urban art when he was there, but in all of his brief nightmares that night the graffiti’s messages were clear: stay away; leave with your life; do not enter; this is where the damned say goodbye.

Saturday rolled dotely into Sunday. Eric made sure to stay in near constant communication with Emily and Armon. Emily had been working mostly on her schoolwork, and Armon was just playing video games. Eric joined Armon for some gaming, but he found that he couldn’t comfortably sit and focus on a task for more than an hour or so. There was an unstable feeling that was purging Eric’s soul. It grew more unsettling as time passed. Eric experienced waves of dizziness, disorientation, and nausea. He didn’t know what was going on, but hoped that his body was simply punishing his stupid decision to seek out a dangerous story. The day was long, and Eric was sickly exhausted. By the time the sun set, his vision was still too plagued to allow him to sleep. The night was as long as the day, with Eric never growing tired enough to close his eyes and rest.

Unable to draw Saturday's experience from his mind, Eric decided to delve more deeply into the lore of the box Monday morning. He turned to the internet, and scrolled through pages of box theories and stories. The most interesting piece of information he uncovered was an amateur explorer's documentation of his own visit to the box through a subreddit story. The explorer wrote about and posted his experience in intervals as he searched for then found the box. There was a longer time stamp during the duration of time where the explorer was most likely out of service, but Eric was able to follow a coherent retelling of nearly the same thing he had been through.

The redditor noted how he had begun his journey, like Eric had, in the abandoned mining town. He also wrote how he had sighted a strange figure in the depths of the woods as he explored the ghost town. The explorer ended up following the figure into the woods directly from the town, saving him the trip of getting to the abandoned mine. The figure had led him deep into trees, and the redditor described hearing an odd hum and experiencing what he called a “pulse” from the forest. The pulse led him to a clearing, to the box, the same way that Eric had been led to the exact location.

Eric read on, and the reddit explorer detailed his findings. He, too, had made his way on top of the box and inside the hatch. Eric almost suffered an anxiety attack from what he read next. The redditor detailed exactly what Eric had experienced when he had been inside the box. Tumbling and turning, as though an outside force had been rolling the box in a maleficent manner. The explorer had managed to escape, and like Eric, he had frantically made his way home.

What the redditor detailed next was even more horrifying; he explained his experiences in the days following his encounter with the box. The redditor wrote that he felt very off the following day, and the day after experienced more strange phenomena. He had written that nightmares of the box plagued his vision night and day. His balance had been off. He was dizzy, sick, and often woke in strange places around his apartment. The last details in the redditors writing were the most forewarning. The redditor explained how he thought he was losing his mind, and how he thought that the box had affected his understanding of reality. The final sentences of his story went as follows: I do not trust myself nor my mind any longer. I will be traveling back to the box for answers. Perhaps the strange figure may be able to explain what is happening to me. Perhaps he knows how to put a stop to it. Thank you all, wish me luck, goodbye for now. I will post again upon my return. After that, the subreddit section was left only with reader comments and reviews. Many, including Eric, speculated that the strange figure in the forest was the reason the subreddit explorer had not posted again. Eric researched the man on his own, and discovered that the redditor had gone missing a few weeks ago, and that no one had heard from him since.

Well, if one thing’s for sure, Eric thought to himself. I’m definitely not going back to that box.

Eric had gone without decent sleep for days now, and though it was only the early afternoon now on this Monday, he was grateful to find that his mind and body were begging for sleep. Eric happily welcomed himself into his own bed, and fell unconscious as soon as his covers were drawn up to his chin.

He slept heavily that night, and dreamt even more so. In Eric’s dreams, he imagined himself in the comfort of his room, in his bed, but something was different. Initially, he couldn't tell what, but soon his entire room began to turn and spin, just as the box had. He was thrown harshly against his ceiling, the floor, and the walls of his room. He had tumbled into his closet, over his desk, and nearly out of the window beside his bed. It had been a very lucid dream, and when Eric woke on the floor of his room the next morning, he thought that it may have been real. Fortunately, he was able to brush off the strange dream and start his day.

Feeling decent for the first time since Saturday, Eric decided to get some fresh air. He showered and put on some clean clothes. He even did his hair, grabbed a coat, then went for a walk. The air was cool, but the sun was out and showing brightly. The fresh air was certainly helping Eric’s demeanor, if anything. He was even able to pull his mind away from the intrusive thoughts of disappearances and death.

Eric had walked quite a ways, but he did not yet wish to return home, so he kept walking. He had made his way over to a small lake that was laid within the neighborhood, and he started on the path that circled around it. Along the path he listened to the water lap at the shore just below. He had made his way to the damned part of the lake where the path rose above the water and stones were placed to show where the dam was. He had made his way only partly along the raised pathway before he slipped, falling off the side of the path and directly over the rocky hill to the shoreline below. He had slipped so fast that he had had hardly any time to comprehend what was happening before it happened. He landed hard, almost knocking the wind out of himself mostly from the surprise of the fall. Eric picked himself up, rubbing his head as he looked up the small stone hill that held up the pathway. He hiked his way back up onto the path and looked for where he had slipped. There was no ice, nor anything else that he could find that would have led him to such an embarrassing topple. The path wasn’t even slanted.

How did that happen? Eric wondered to himself.

Deciding that it was time to head home, Eric turned around and began to walk back the way he had originally come from.

He was moving away from the lake, checking his arms and legs for any new scrapes or bruises. Fortunately, he couldn’t find any fresh ones. As he was deliberating with himself over the circumstances of his recent fall, he fell again. He landed roughly on his left side, as though his legs had been swept out from beneath him, and that’s when the most alarming thing yet happened; Eric began to slide across the ground, headed for a small grove of trees. In a moment of sheer terror, Eric could only interpret the scenario as that the entire world had shifted, and now gravity was pulling him across the face of the earth. He grabbed at mounds of dirt and grass as he fell along the ground. Realizing his fate, he prepared for impact, wrapping his body around the trunk of the nearest tree as he hurtled into it. This time, the wind was knocked out of Eric, and the significant crack accompanying his loss of air was undoubtedly one or two of his ribs beneath his coat. Eric released an agonized yelp as his body allowed some air back into his lungs. Taking in a full breath of air was too painful as he could feel the broken shards of bone in his chest push against his lung. Crepitus creaked from his thoracic cavity, and tears welled in his eyes as he swung his leg over the trunk of the tree, stradling it and facing the sky through the branches ahead of him. Eric clutched at the right side of his chest, seething through gritted teeth and trying to control the water draining from his eyes. He had no idea what was going on, and adrenaline boosted anxiety consumed his mind, sending Eric into a panic attack. The rapid breaths that came with the panic attack were immensely painful against his freshly broken ribs. Any attempt to calm himself down only built onto his anxiety and made things worse.

Suddenly, the tension that was pulling him along the face of the earth released. The normal restraints of gravity took back over, and Eric fell off of the tree trunk and onto his back. His cracked ribs clapped together, discharging a wave of pain that caused Eric’s face to contort in a devilish manner. Taking small, quick breaths, Eric realized the intensity of his situation. He forced himself to stand up, and began to run as fast as he could back home.

He didn’t have time to control his tears anymore as he tore through neighborhood pathways and past recognizable houses. He was bawling, pulling the skin on his chest away from his broken bones. Spit drooled from his slackened mouth and slapped against his shirt, but there was no time to stop. He had to get inside.

Eric rounded a corner, entering a pathway that moved between the backyards of two connecting rows of houses. He made it only halfway down the path before he ran off of the ground. Initially, when his feet lifted from the sidewalk, he didn’t notice. But as his body swung upwards he screamed. It was like he was running towards the clouds above. His feet never stopped moving as his body continued to swing around, bringing Eric in a full 360 degree rotation back to the sidewalk. He crashed against the cement, losing his footing for a moment and tumbling to the ground. His hands were trained strictly to his chest, so he allowed his face to take the brunt of the fall. As his cheek scraped against the sidewalk, his vision flashed to a memory of when he was trapped inside of the box, being thrown every which direction, concrete walls on every side of him. He should never have gone, he should never have been so stupid.

Eric was able to pick himself up again, barely losing pace. The side of his face had been scraped to bits, and he could feel small droplets of blood beginning to form and run down the front of his chin and neck, but the pain on his face was minimal to the pain in his chest. Eric’s nose flared and he coughed as he attempted to inhale deeper. It was getting harder to breath, but he couldn’t tell if it was from his worsening condition or just that he had been running and his body required more oxygen. Whatever the cause, he didn’t stop moving. That is, until he did; Eric’s feet were still hitting the ground, but he had lost all forward momentum. He needn’t wonder what was happening, he could feel the gravity shift from below him to behind him. Eric arced his body forward sharply, moving sideways in an attempt to reach for something to hold onto. The shift was happening too fast, he wasn’t going to make it. With the last remaining bit of traction he had beneath his feet, Eric leapt for the short, wooden posted picket fence that lined the backyard of a house. He stretched out with every muscle he had. He felt the strain of his reach pull over his ribs, and he nearly cracked a tooth from how hard he was clenching his jaw, but he caught the fence. At first with one hand, then pulling up the other, Eric was able to hold himself against the fence to keep from falling down the path. He shrieked in agony from the pain within his body, but it was worth not falling through the house over one hundred feet below him.

The earth began to turn again, and Eric’s feet drifted upward towards the sky. He maintained hold on the fence, biting through his bottom lip until it bled into his mouth, mixing with the tears streaming down his face. His body now stretched entirely vertical, his feet towards the sky as though he was hanging from the largest cliff in the world. He knew that if he let go, it would mean certain death.

I can’t do it, Eric thought to himself, his finger beginning to slip away from the wooden post they clung so tightly too. I can’t do it. Normally, the splinters puncturing through the skin of his fingers would have been too painful to bear, but he was grateful for the extra friction they provided against the wood. I can’t do it, Eric thought to himself again, and then out loud he said, “Goodbye.”

Eric released hold from his position on the wood. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch the world fall away from him, but instead of one last breath, he slammed against the ground.

Eric hardly had the energy to be thankful. His eyes were still squeezed tightly shut, and his body was riveted with pain. Eric rolled agonily to his good side, reaching a shaky hand into his pocket. He pulled out his phone and set it on the ground beside him after dialing Emily’s number.

“Hello?” Emily’s voice said through the phone.

“Em,” Eric muttered.

“Eric, are you alright? You sound hurt!”

“Emily, listen, I’m sorry,” Eric started, each word escaping through his grating teeth. “You’re going to be alright. I should never have taken us to that horrible box, but I think you’re going to be okay.

“Eric,” Emily replied. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“I can’t explain. Emily I love you. Emily I’m sorry. I’m—”

“Eric? Hello? Eric? Please respond. What’s going on?”

Emily was still distraught, though her emotions had been abstained by shock. She was wearing the same black dress she had worn to her grandfather's funeral, she shouldn’t have had to put it on for her boyfriends. Eric’s parents had purchased a nice casket; it remained closed as there was not a body inside to accompany it. They had not been able to find Eric’s body, only his phone. Emily had successfully tracked it and led authorities to its location. It had been laying in the grass behind someone’s house. A neighbor close to where Eric had lived. Authorities began investigating, but that was days ago, and there was still no sign of Eric nor word from him.

“Emily, I’m sorry,” Armon said as he embraced her in a long hug. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.” Emily didn’t respond. “I don’t know what happened to him, but I know it had something to do with that stupid box. I’m going back. I’m going to find out what happened to my friend.”

Emily looked up at Armon, her eyes sparkled as the sunlight glinted off of the fresh tears that sat comfortably between her eyelids. She sniffled, then said, “I know. I’m coming with you.”