This hand-carved 30-panel short story in linocut prints tells the tale of a young boy who faces and overcomes the trials of loss, alienation and the manifestation of his inner demons.
No one knows where it came from or why it chose this home
Perhaps it always waited there 'til it found the boy alone
Wood dark and faded, not one soul might imagine it's alive
Or heed the words scratched deeply out on its bottom side
Tell it to the Baku Box and the bad things go away
But if you ever open it the fear is here to stay
Our story begins happily with Charles Carter Hall
A cheerful child full of smiles if but a little small
Two parents who deeply adored him and he adored them too
A trinity of family, a love so pure and true
If only we could end right here on this Sunday by the sea
For that will end up being Carter's last happy memory
They say the other man's at fault, swerving across the lane
They say he simply fell asleep, they say it's such a shame
The impact crushed the father's skull; the metal tore her side
And like all ironies of life, the other man was fine
A broken tibia his penance, a measly fractured bone
While Carter waits up patiently for parents who'll never come home
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, the words sting like a wound
The mourners mourn, the flowers fall, coffins lowered to their tombs
A memory of two lifetimes reduced to simple dates
Loving father, adoring mother, their final real estate
And Carter waits there sincerely as the evening ticks and tocks
A small boy missing his mother who sleeps in her small box
He's shipped to an uncle, a cousin, an aunt, who have no space for more
They say their problems are too big; his care they can't endure
Until a bargain's finally struck amongst the family
Great Aunt Rosa, the old matriarch, she could use the company
Nevermind that her mind's going now or the odd things that she sews
A room, a roof, a regular meal, where else's a boy to go?
Great Aunt Rosa spends each day perched in her rocking chair
Its gentle squeaks the only conversation the two can bear
One of them weighed down by age, the other crushed by grief
Their interactions forced and odd, the boy tries to keep them brief
For cousin Shirley told him a secret in her lovely sing-song pitch:
Great Aunt Rosa, everyone knows, has always been a witch
So when school came Carter welcomed it as a necessary reprieve
Away from the witch, away from nightmares, away from time to grieve
But only in the tallest tales does a school bring catharsis
Boys recognized Carter was new and one who was amiss
And as boys do they formed a gang of who was out and in
Carter found himself thrown to the ground as the others grinned and grinned
Wet tears streamed down our hero’s face as his body shook in bed
The taunts and jeers the screams the fears did echo in his head
And grew to a cacophony with the horn from his parent’s car
In punctuated sobs Carter cried, wishing on a star
That this simply all a dream. And then, a crackling in the air.
But came it not from the heavens; the sound was from upstairs
Our hero crept up step by step into the old attic
The grandfather clock was stuck on 12, tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick
Then he saw Aunt Rosa speak in tongues, in harsh guttural moans
As she chanted her eyes glowed midnight black, things floated through the home
She clapped her hands, the spell finished, she departed like a fox
Then Carter saw it lying there: the wretched Baku Box
Tell me your tale, it hissed to him, I’ll take away the pain
Tell me everything, my boy, you’ll never be the same
He peered inside: nothing at all but a darkness that never ceased
As Carter stared at it mesmerized the box in size increased
And everything Carter had felt that weighed him down like rocks
He knew he must pour out to it, the wretched Baku Box
He told it of the boys at school and the songs they sang of him
He hated his house, he hated his life, anguish filled him to the brim
ach harsh memory he sobbed descended into black
And spectral hands slithered out planning their first attack
They picked at Carter’s lone shadow, removing the sad bits
And leaving him not completely whole, returned to their spectral pits
Now a shadow missing its shadow Carter returned to school
With grief erased he strolled the halls, his mind felt clear and cool
He didn’t raise his hand in class, he didn’t share his thoughts
T’was as if world couldn’t cause him pain, his armor the Bunny Box
Without life suffocating him Carter could have some fun
And maybe that’s why he noticed her, the girl named Alison
She was odd but not as odd as he, hair wild, eyes quick and dark
He dropped his pen, she passed it back, a few beats skipped his heart
“I’m Carter” he said and extended his hand, a grin upon his face
“I know” she said, “I’m Alison”, and between them narrowed space
He paused, a pause that meant it all, a pause wherein rested hope
But sensing their budding affection the bullies drew in close
“You’re better off without that freak” the largest of them told her
Alison looked down, breaking the spell, their fire reduced to smolder
But buoyed by a newfound strength, Carter squared up to the riff-raff
The boys took aggressive steps forward but Carter merely laughed
A ridiculous response to ridicule, a raucous roaring burst
And shaken by his confidence the bullies quickly dispersed
At home Carter and Great Aunt Rosa took their customary seats
But instead of silence the meal was met by Carter’s tapping feet
“You seem different” Aunt Rosa murmured aloud, staring straight into his eyes
She waited for his taciturn response, his heavy grieving sigh
But nothing can stop a boy in love, not an old witch and her spells
And Carter tapped through Great Aunt’s stares and knew that all’d be well
Upstairs things swirled inside the box – a formless, sordid horde
Taunts fused with screams with memories that could not be ignored
Spectral hands scooped vicissitudes of Carter’s life to stitch a tapestry
Creating something whose only goal was to cause misery
It strained against the Baku Box, it slashed at the insides
And with a snap the Box opened and came out something that was alive
Sleeping in his bed young Carter dreamed of Alison
Her siren song sang to the boy of how where why and when
He dreamed a future of passing pens and recess playground strolls
A smile crossed his sleeping face, oblivious to the shadow
That crept along the creaky floor and slithered into his bed
Then the shadow went inside of him and the two of them were wed
“Hi” Alison whispered flirtatiously the next day to Carter in class
But something had changed inside the boy, something he could not grasp
Her “hi” was hollow, intentions phony, what a stupid girl he thought
It disgusted him this creature was one he’d ever sought
The shadow in him twisted gleefully telling Carter what to do
“I have to go” he cut her off and walked out into the blue
By the bleachers Carter watched the bullies circle a new victim,
A runt the same size as our hero whose arms were weak and thin
Wet tears streamed down the runt’s muddy face, he blubbered for his mom
The bullies shook with laughter and Carter pushed through the beefy throng
The boy looked hopefully to him, a savior who heard his cries
Then Carter slapped him in the face, and joined the other boys
“You seem different” Aunt Rosa repeated as they took their seats to dine
Carter stared back evenly, shadow and hero intertwined
“I’m fine” he said eventually though he did not touch his food
Great Aunt Rosa nodded impassively, non-verbal was their feud
On the wall behind a battle raged as shadows sought their mark
The witch vs. horrors from the Box throwing the room to dark
But Carter returned to school intact, his beast could not be slayed
It had burrowed too deeply inside of him and fiendish thoughts it laid
He scribbled a note to Alison and slipped it into her desk
A sweet suggestion despite intentions that were grotesque and arabesque
Alison read it with earnest eyes and smiled, she felt lighter than a feather
Of course she’d meet our boy outside, t’was better late than never
They walked together the school grounds, she told him of her life
How she’d moved here only recently and back at home the strife
He stopped her. He didn’t care that much, he just thought she was pretty
And he thought that Alison might make a fine accessory
Behind his shadow gnawed at hers, feasting on her pain
And Alison left the grounds in tears feeling not pretty but very plain
That night a small voice shouted to Carter, the fire from when they met
Keep a candle for me or I’ll cease to be it cried through the silhouette
But darkness subsumed the little flame, the spark of Carter’s hope
And happy family memories slid down that darkened slope
The shadow filled him up inside, blackening his heart
But just as it was finishing Carter awoke with a start
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he sprinted down the hall
Returning to the attic where he first heard its wicked call
Splintered on the floor he found the Baku Box’s remains
He told it everything again; he poured out all his pain
But the box did not accept it; like a sieve the hurt passed through
And shadow dug their claws in deep; a curse the boy could not undo
“You foolish child” a voice intoned, Aunt Rosa was suddenly there
“I know you’re a witch” he shouted at her, giving a resilient stare.
“My boy” she said, “I’m no more a witch than you are a grown man
“I’m but an old woman but there are things I’ve come to understand
“Like you can’t put pain into a box and wish it all away
Some things are just a part of us, and with us they’ll always stay”
Her words echoed in the young boy’s ears as he returned to school
And he pulled Alison aside and explained he’d been a fool
All the while shadows gnashed and thrashed, clawing at Carter’s insides
But our hero kept talking to Alison of how where when and why
He lost his parents, his new home, the bullies and their jeers
He told her this and much much more, he let out all his fears
Alison was silent a long time, it felt like eternity
Carter knew that he had failed and alone he’d always be
But as their eyes met, she took his hand, and held it to her heart
“It was brave of you to tell me your tale, and mine I’d like to start”
She spoke of herself, of her hopes and dreams, of her fears that gnawed inside
And the two of them walked and talked and talked until the sun dipped down to hide
Alison and Carter are not perfect, their insides buffed and cleaned
Memories leave stains and faded pains that rest in the in-between
A tapestry of sorrow and joy, of loss, and hope, and grace
And though you might not know it yet everything does have its place
No Carter and Alison aren’t perfect, just like you and me
But put them together and just perhaps something magical you’ll see