The Sword Box

I stood on stage, and a thousand bloodshot eyes stared up at me. They were clapping, but their hands made no sound.

The sword box was behind me. I turned a few times before finding it. Once my hand touched the velvet cushion, I felt drawn to plop myself inside. I touched the circular holes and used the largest one to hoist myself up and into the box.

It was hard despite the cushions, and with very little wiggle room, I could only sit up with my head exposed to the shark-eyed crowd.

An assistant in a gold sequin dress came on stage, and the audience erupted in silent applause. In her hands, she held two long swords. She bowed once, then turned toward me and the box.

Her eyes were just as sparkly as her dress. She smiled, and my blood went cold. She nudged her head back, telling me to lower myself.

I don't know why I did it, but I longed to obey. I lay back and listened as her steps grew nearer.

Can anyone hear me? I called as the top of the box was sealed.

I heard the click of a lock and the muffled noise of the silent applause as the key was dropped on the stage.

I peered out from one of the holes on the side of the box. I saw the assistant show off the swords once more. She put the blade up high and then pointed it downward toward her face. She arched her back and tilted her head so the sword could glide, as smooth as an oyster, down her throat.

She pulled out the blade and bowed once more. The crowd loved her.

Then, she turned back to the box, and with that same damp blade aligned it to the hole I was peaking through.

I tried speaking again, Can anyone hear me?

But the sound of the metal against the box only strengthened. I inched as far away as I could. I shifted and turned, and feathers spilled from the pillow under my head. The black air of the box turned soft under the weight of the white feathers.

They itched my nose as the first puncture slid under my rib cage. The sword barreled through my spleen and out the other side. It was dark inside the box, but I could see the blood that fell from my stomach was pitch black against the gray.

The feathers stuck to me as I tried to scurry away from the blade. But I was skewered and could only sit in wait for the assistant to remove the sword from the hole.

She took her time, driving in knife after knife until all the holes were plugged and my stomach was full. The blood flooded the box and tasted sweet.

When the liquid was fully over my head, the top of the box was removed, and I was hoisted up to the crowd.

I extended my arms, and they began to cheer, loudly this time, so loud their laughter and applause shook the stage. But still I could not hear them.

With all the black blood pooling over the box and staining the stage, I began losing consciousness. The assistant looked me over with those sparkling eyes and allowed me her shoulder to rest upon until the stage drifted away.

When I woke, I found myself in a red chair, amongst the black eyed crowd. My hands were moving on their own in painful applause.

I looked up to find the smiling assistant dragging an empty sword box to center stage.