freewrite – 10oct2020

searching through boxes, endless amounts of boxes, trying to find this goddamn second wii remote... my brother wanted to play alongside me and wouldn’t accept a normal controller as a substitute, oh no, he just had to have the wii remote. so up in the attic i go to try and find this godforsaken thing.

the attic is full to the brim with dirty, dusty, and heavy boxes, all containing a jumble of things it seemed, with zero organisation in the midst of it all. what were their parents thinking? how did anyone expect to find anything in this clusterfuck? searching the 35th box now, still no signs of anything. find an old firewire cable and some large grains of sand. the 36th box shows no signs of hope too – mainly old posters with one can of pepsi from 2004 smuggled in there.

i ventured deeper still, moving boxes around everywhere to get to the lower stacks of them, and still showing no signs of this remote. not even packaging or a manual. how far did this attic go, anyway? the stacks seem to be getting higher. there are now boxes you are unable to reach with just your hands, and there isn’t a ladder in sight, you daren’t try to knock anything over incase any valuables were found.

ta-da, 100th box, big celebration. still nothing. the contents of the boxes seemed to be getting more... unusual. a few boxes ago you found some plastic fingers and a journal with all the pages blackened out by pen. this one has a whole bunch of multipack crisps, all of which are far beyond their expiration date. why was this even in a box?

something has gone wrong. you look up. boxes surround your every step. they seem to ascend infinitely, and the ceiling has disappeared entirely. box 347. it contains some kind of dust and a note. the note describes it as the dust from a crushed skull. you stop looking in the boxes. you just want to get out of here. every single turn leads to more boxes. even though you can’t see where they’re going they still feel like they’re getting higher.

and then you hear a bang. a stack of boxes teeters and starts to fall, knocking all the other stacks in it’s path. this attic is collapsing, everything shatters and breaks. you run, dodging what you can, pushing boxes out of your path, trying to go back, but there doesn’t seem to be a path back. which direction are you even going? you can’t tell and it doesn’t seem to matter. the boxes crushing your body feels inevitable, an unavoidable fate.

you have one more idea. a larger box stands in front of you. you push it down and open it up (box 348). there’s nothing inside. you squeeze and worm your way inside, pushing your legs in followed by your chest and then your head, and your hands close the flaps. it’s not safe, not by a long shot – but its probably the only chance you actually have at surviving the fall.

and then... silence. everything just stops. nothing hits you. you wait, just in case, but after a few minutes you peek out the flaps. your familiar attic awaits you, and the walls have returned – however, there are now far less boxes. and sitting face down in front of you is one singular, white wii remote. it has a bit of dust on it.