Diary of a Manslayer
A sequel to Kendo no Go
by Akai Kitsune ::: 19.Jun.2005
Chapter 09: Jewelry Box
He is trapped within a box.
It is a box of memories; a box of fear and hate and danger and
worry and everything he had once felt, everything he had ever wanted to feel
or not wanted to feel and it was there in his mind, terrifying, infuriating,
wondrous and dark and light.
It is a box he has made for himself, a box that refuses to disappear,
a box that he constructed out of what he was and what he fears he will be.
It is a box that makes him human, makes him a demon, makes him
a husband, a father, a mystery, a legend. It is the box that drives him to domestic
nature, to chores that require him to wash his hands, to create instead of destroy,
to mold and form beautiful creations with the fingers that once did nothing
but kill and maim and destroy.
It is a box he hates, yet cannot escape.
It is a box that no one has broken, never, much as he desires
them to. A box that has always been there, always will be.
He cannot remember a time when he did not feel the walls pressed
against his body, against his heart, when he did not feel them crushing him
slowly, painfully, without warning, without mercy.
It is a contest of wills, a war between mind and heart and body
He is losing.
But there is hope.
There is a hand
outside the box. Reaching, prodding, tearing at the walls with calloused fingers
and torn nails, calling to him gently, insistently, pleadingly. Calling his
name. There are eyes watching him, through holes that have been patiently carved
through, meeting his gaze and telling him - in a voice that cannot be argued
with - to come out again.
There was once a time when he was free.
The box remains.
He has a family now; friends, comrades, allies. More hands,
tearing, grasping, beckoning. More eyes watching, different expressions, same
request. More voices, some louder than others, some more patient, some more
gentle, all speaking his name.
Over the years
he learns to call back. He learns to smile, to reassure, to laugh and say that
he'd come, he'd definitely come. One day, he would be free again. And they smile
back, nodding, because they'd known all along, and they are still waiting, always
waiting for him.
He'd come, one day.
The box remains, but it is larger now, no longer crushing him,
choking him to death with its terrible weight. His family is on the other side,
waiting, and there are many holes through which to reach for them.
They reach for him, and he laughs, because they are warm, and
he loves them for the brightness they bring to his dark cage.
He is trapped within a box.
But it is alright,
though the walls are full of memories, because he no longer has to touch them
when he stretches his hands to the sky.