A boy sat on a stool in the middle of a room that was thick with darkness. Footsteps approached and a light buzzed on from above. A woman and man holding hands stepped into the light.
"Boy."
They said in unison.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Their voices echoed through the large room. The boy looked at the tall pointed white hat the man held in his free hand. Letters had been hand written vertically, but before he could read it, the man's deep cold voice bounced off the walls.
"Up here, boy."
The boy's voice was quiet, like he hadn't spoken in a lifetime.
"Um, I..."
"Louder, child!"
The boy felt the echoes once again bounce from wall to wall. He cleared his throat.
"I want to tell stories." He smiled at the thought.
His answer caused them pause.
"A storyteller?"
They shook their heads sympathetically. The boy felt three pats on his head, and then the weight of a heavy hat.
"Liars weave stories, and failures tell them. That is not an occupation that would benefit your estate."
"What is an Estate?" The boy asked.
They laughed.
The man pivoted and walked away as the lady slowly leaned closer. She whispered into his ear. The boy felt no breath, but could hear her words as if she spoke normally. He felt his hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand at attention. The sound of footsteps returned, and the man stepped into the light with a box the size of the boys head with the letter P on it. He opened the lid, and held it down so the boy could see it's contents. A small golden globe was at the bottom, rolling from corner to corner. The boy reached in the box extending his thumb, pointer, and index fingers to grab the small golden planet, but the woman slapped his hand. The man quickly returned the lid, bent down over the boy's head, and spoke as if he'd recently sharpened his tongue. "Take heed, boy. This box is that in which you live. The space inside of this box is not for you to feel. This golden globe is not for you to hold. Your little hands have not the authority or privilege to wield such a treasure." The man stood back upright. The woman spat as she spoke, "Think once more of an answer to our original question. If your answer is unsatisfactory, there will be punishments."
"Punishment? Are you doing to hurt me?"
"Yes-- and no." The woman's eyes pierced his like a splinter to flesh that is too small to remove; it must remain there uncomfortably until it has absorbed into the body.
"We will make sure you punish yourself for the rest of your life."
The man and the woman looked at each other, then back at the boy, the woman grabbed the heavy pointed hat off of the boys head, set it on his lap, and flicked his forehead. They grabbed hands and began to walk away. The grown-up's footsteps grew distant as they walked out of the light talking quietly. Their voices grew louder as their distance became greater until a door shut loudly behind them. The boy looked at the word on the hat. It said BLEMISH . The light switched off.
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