The devilish man in the ringmaster costume appears center stage, standing in the spotlight looking out into darkness. He removes his tall hat and greets the audience in a boisterous and bellicose fusillade of well-rehearsed one liners. Welcome, he declares, welcome to the Black Box. This is not The Moulin Rouge, no not even close. You are not in Paris and you are not a Bohemian, though if you choose to be, you may. This is the place where you write the script.
The Black Box is nothing more than four walls a ceiling and a floor all painted the darkest black known to exist. It is darker than the darkest of souls. Unlike the Moulin Rouge, we are not here to entertain you. In fact, you are here to entertain us. This theater of the mind allows you to become whatever you want to become. A friendly word of advice, though, before we continue with the show.
If you choose to stay, you choose your own destiny. Once the show begins, no one may leave the theater. There will only be a short intermission and we call it suicide. What, you cry, suicide? That is what I said, I won’t say it again. Rules are rules and you may only leave the theater when the show concludes and that is something for which I advise you to avoid for this show is your life.
What now do you choose to be, where and when do you choose to go? Would you be a Christian fighting the heathen in a great Crusade? Many have gone that route and many have died. A man in a business suit, clearly into material gain, once said that he wanted to climb mountains and reach the highest peak. Back in the ’60s, a hippie said that he just wanted to reach the highest high. If you asked me, I would tell you that the hippie had a better time. You have the choice my friend to choose your destiny. A politician, perhaps the Senate, is calling to you. Don’t go that route; it is only a trap.
You could be a soldier gone off to fight in the war. Why choose that path, some wonder, but you hear the call. No guts, no glory, you say, and that says it all. Remember, you only live in freedom because some heard that clarion call. But I ask what of war’s danger surely a concern to avoid?
You say that you did not choose the life that you have, but you are in the Black Box and you make the rules. Don’t blame us if you are not happy. We have nothing to do with your life we are not to blame. If you don’t like the deal we can’t help you with that. It was you who bought the ticket, you came to the show. It is we who are cheated by your constant complaints.
Here, see a little fetus ready to grow, but momma decided to write a script that discounted your life. Sorry little one, but you are not to be a part of the show. Don’t be too sad since you would have been an abused child, beaten by a drunk who cares little for you. Society cannot always watch out for you and the newspaper can always use a good story to fill space. In this world they say if it bleeds it leads.
So prepare for your own show, we want you to know that life is what you make it, the show is your own. The news must go out, the voter and voyeur want to know about all that they do. The paper has to go to bed and the deadline is met. This edition is done and we hope that your story helped us meet our great debt. As the ringmaster fades into darkness he barks concession stand is open out back. Have a drink and hot dog, all part of the big show. Someone shouts out can I please be a published writer of greatest renown? Just a little weekly byline, is that too much to ask? Why not, this is The Black Box and it is always open to you. – Michael Seyfried
Michael Seyfried is a frequent contributor. “Black Box,” is from his Jersey Traffic Jam Thinking Collection.