Bobbi and the box

Bobbi and the Box

Bobbi is looking for the box. The big, big box, with all the sparkly bits to dress up in. This box has been hidden away. But Bobbi has already started scrabbling around in the attic. Peering in cupboards, prying in drawers, upsetting the antiques with her antics. And generally making a mess. Bobbi bursts into the wardrobe, and below the stacked up shoes the billowing box sits. So she shifts it onto the floor. On the box is scrawled ‘Dressing Up Box’. But it is tapped up on all its sides. How will Bobbi get in? She slides her nails beneath the tape, and it peels off, bit by bit.

One flap, then two flaps and the box is open. And into the box she dives digging through the dark and dull garments and the forever frumpy and forgotten. Now she sees the sparkling. Bobbi pulls out a bobbly jumper, a swishy skirt, a sparkly shirt and a pair of gold lame trousers. Hurriedly she tries them all on, on top of each other. And she styles it just right. Bobbi moves farther in and she delves inside. Searching, searching for that special something. She throws out the ordinary, the respectable and the sensible. And then she spies the sequined boots, big black bouncy boots. And Bobbi is overexcited. So Bobbi climbs into the box to try each boot on. And she laces up the twelve holes on each side. She has a perfect fit. Fit for bouncing in. Bobbi bounces. Bounces up. Up, up, up! Then down. Down right through the breaking box.

Down into another Room. A room dark. So dark she can't see. But Bobbi lands on her feet.

And slowly the room lights up. She can see she is amongst mirrored walls. She sees herself over and over, in all shapes and sizes. Bits of Bobbi reflecting back at her the mirrors mocking, making wild faces. And making her feel out of place. Bobbi looks up but she can't see her way out. She wonders is she locked in? If only she could find a door. Crawling, creeping up, Bobbi bounces on her toes. Tiptoeing between the shattered glass shards. Bobbi stumbles and startled, stops upright, right upon a key. A big brass key.

Bobbi stoops to pick the key from the floor. Now she must look for a lock to unlock. Bobbi works her way towards the light, still shuffling as the walls narrow in. The ceiling dips and Bobbi must bend down. She grasps the key in her hand quickly unpicking the lock. Bobbi squeezes herself through the double door, and scrabbles through the flaps of the box. Bobbi is back in the attic. And falling forward she lands awkwardly, her face in a fleece and her poise unsightly. Bobbi picks herself up and packs up the now empty box. She puts the box under her arm and walks away. Away from the over cluttered room and she bounces down the staircase. Stopping for no-one and bounding along the corridors.

Entering the street Bobbi feels somewhat shamed, that she hasn't brushed the dust from her hair and the cobwebs from her face. Spiders cling on to the bobbled jumper as Bobbi bounces along. The heavens burst. And drizzle turns into to a full force rainstorm. Bobbi bends down and opens up her box right there on the pavement. She climbs inside and shuts the flaps over her head. The wind whisks up Bobbi in her box. She flies up and swoops down with the breeze. Her box travels out over the town, fields, then the sea. Maybe over oceans too. But it's all wet stuff to Bobbi, wet and wild. And then the wind breaks and Bobbi stops moving. The box freefalls spiraling lower and lower. Pitching up side in a giant treehouse. A tree so tall when Bobbi looks out she can just see the ground below.