The Bunny and the Box. Done for a sketch daily assignment, and inspired by a short piece of writing by Brandon:
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Entry 6: Not long after my eyes finally open, I'm grabbed and shoved into a dark, little box. Light streams in from holes in the side as familiar smells of family fade away. The box tilts and dips, forcing me to scramble to maintain my footing. Holding still and quiet provides no release as my silence is met with frantic taps on the side. What fresh hell is this.
Entry 7: Still dark. Still loud.
Entry 8: The box has come to a rest. As it slowly opens, new air rushes in. No longer can I smell the heady scent of warmth and kin, instead some sort of lemon scent. Notes of vegetables, but mysteriously cleaned. I am overwhelmed and enfolded by the stench of these large creatures, as if their big hands and wide eyes were not frightening enough. Gathering my resolve, I balance myself and peer up over the lip of the box. I see strange branches that culminate in flat surfaces, piles of some sort of soft and colorful material, and a surface that I cannot characterize. Not my familiar wood chips or grass, it seems too regular. Too soft. My first explorations are cut short by a chilling cry, both high pitched and protracted, that pierces the silence. Thumping once, I dive back down into the box; my prison now become my sanctuary. Only my ears are active, twisting back and forth, as I ball myself in the corner.
Frith, grant your faithful servant relief from this place. Give me clover to lie down in, sweet smells to fill my nose, and warmth for all my days. What is that? Coming into the box? Some sort of hand!
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