Ficly

The Box

A sliver of light was his only comrade as he sat in the darkness of the box.
He felt fear. Fear of what was outside. Fear of being alone. Fear of the darkness; clinging to that one sliver of sunlight that met with him every morning for the last 3 days.
He was alone.
There was no one to talk to.
There was no one to comfort and quiet his fear. To say that everything was going to be alright.
Only silence. In the box. He scraped at it. The box was an odd shiny material, a metal of some kind; it had been sterile and cold when he was stuffed into it.
Now, it was too hot, and the smell was something no human-being should ever have to endure.
But that was it wasn’t it? HE was not human was he? He’d come as a visitor to study them. To learn their languages. To learn about their existence and their desires. TO understand what made them tick! To assess co-existence.
With his only companion, a sliver of sunlight, to comfort him, he thrashed at the sides of the box as distant human voices spoke of his dissection.

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