The Girl & the Boy in the Box
Free Story: I thought it was a perfect place to stop for lunch, but when I got there… I saw the box…
The story you are about to read is fiction, but its inspiration is real.
In 1957, a little boy’s bruised body was found in a cardboard box in Philadelphia. Nobody knew who he was. For decades, he lay beneath a headstone that read America’s Unknown Child—symbolising, I suppose, a national failure, to him, and many others.
People left flowers, toys, and notes.
Finally, in December 2022, through the advancement of DNA, he was identified as Joseph Augustus Zarelli. I wrote this story a few months before that discovery.
With America’s Independence Day on the horizon, I’m sharing my story again—for all the children like him who are neglected, abused, ignored… or worse.
I want to remember that the freedom worth fighting for is the one where no child is left to suffer in silence. The truth is, most governments are busy fighting the wrong battles. If children aren’t safe, whats the point?
NB: This is a little longer than other stories I have published, but it is not one that should be split into two.
I really hope you will read about the girl & the boy in the box.
The narrator is an eleven year old girl so I tried to keep the vocabulary in keeping with a pre-teen.
The Girl & the Boy in the Box
Laying back, I look through the tops of the trees at the stars, feeling small.
I’ve been on ten camping trips in total. Quite a few I suppose, considering I’m only eleven … and a quarter. The first was probably the best. Just Dad and me.
I was five then, and he’d left mum the year before. He couldn’t bear living with her. But didn’t take me. He thought she’d knuckle down and actually behave herself instead of drinking all day… and whoring. That’s what Dad called it. He said with him gone, she would need to try harder at life and being a mother.
News: she didn’t.
They divorced and Dad married Sarah, who doesn’t like me. I know because when I begged Dad to let me live with them, Sarah, who was pregnant with twins at the time, said it wasn’t a good idea as things were going to be busy enough.
When he first left, mum just ignored anything to do with life really. I worked out how to get to my school. How to nick cash from her purse so I could eat. That kind of thing.
It didn’t take long before I could use the washing machine. Which helped as she puked a lot.
Yeah, as I was saying… when she just got pissed without bothering me, I could cope. I tolerated the blokes who turned up with her at the end of the night, only to leave an hour later, dropping some notes on the kitchen table. If I was quick, I managed to grab a tenner before mum came out of her room.
It was when she started to, like, hit me, I decided I would have to stay out of her way. It wasn’t as if I did anything wrong. She’d run out of money and shout and scream it was because she had a stupid, dumb ass kid to look after.
Look after…who was she kidding?
Anyway, I’d answer back and get a clout round the head. Once, she kicked out and caught my tummy. I was doubled over for a while after that.
I only have a few friends. Not surprising. I mean, I don’t have much in common with the girls in my class. They’re getting into makeup and clothes. Whereas I’m just trying to survive.
But one girl, Connie Smith, must have felt sorry for me as I got an invitation for tea. Then, when her mum saw my bruises she said I could sometimes stay on the weekend. I can’t tell you how wonderful that was. Being part of a fairy-tale family. Caring, supportive parents, you know.
I think Mrs Smith reported my mum though, as shortly after the social came round to the house, snooping. Mum was furious. Hit me when they’d gone, saying if I ever dobbed on her again, my life wouldn’t be worth living.
Like it could get much worse…
She may be an abusive drunk, but a clever one at that. Dad lives miles away. But he calls me on the phone now and then, and takes me for two camping trips to the highlands in Scotland every year. In the week before he’s due to collect me, she lays off. So when I moan to him, without bruises to back up my story, she claims I’m exaggerating.
Probably scared he’d stop the parental support money if he believed things were really that shit.
The first time camping was just me and dad. But then she came — Sarah. A year and a half later, the twin brats, baby gal darlings, were part of the trip too. But I coped with it all, as I loved… love the forest.
Even in the summer it’s quite cold. The place is called Breamore. Maybe I notice the chill, coming from Bristol. But I don’t mind it at all. I put on my jeans and puffa jacket, take a packed lunch and go exploring. Dad used to come when the twins were real small, but now they’re at nursery and bright as buttons, they need a lot more attention.
Anyhow, I know miles and miles of woodland like the back of my hand. We’ve been visiting for so many years, and usually stay two weeks at a time.
Dad says camping is good for the soul.
I was looking forward to the latest trip more than usual. The Easter break. Jumper and jacket weather, but I needed to be away. Mum was hardly ever sober and wasn’t caring for herself or me. There’s a place deep down in my gut that loves her. I remember a time when I was real small and she let me sleep with her at night when I got scared. Thats when she bought me my teddy, Mr Ted.
But… I think mum went way past feeling anything years ago. When the booze took hold.
That thought eats away at my spirit.
I’ve had a bad few weeks. Some knocks. Some slip ups at school.
I started secondary a few months back and I can’t keep up with the homework. It’s like not easy to get a good sleep in my house, and I wake up tired and hungry. I got called to the head for having so many detentions. She was angry, and I don’t need another woman shouting the odds!
I was just biding time to come away and let the forest save me. I almost began praying for the time to pass. Not that I believe in all that Jesus crap, but sometimes I gotta speak aloud to something. Ask someone to save me.
Dad picked me up in the four by four and commented to Sarah — when he thought I couldn’t hear — that I was looking mighty thin. And it has to be said I was feeling weak. But I knew the forest would breathe some life back into me. I make little camps and pretend I’m Tarzan, living with the animals. I have fun, as a kid should.
As soon as we arrived, everyone agreed it was the coldest it had ever been. But Dad said at least it wasn’t raining.
I know he loves me. He tries to hug and chat, but I want him to take me home with him. I need a family. Deep inside me there’s an empty pit. I can’t see the way forward. And yesterday is not something I want to remember either.
In the highlands I live for the moment, so at least I have the memories to help me through while dealing with mum until the next holiday.
I try and get on with the twins, knowing more than most how important family is. But Sarah shoos me away. As if I will — like — contaminate them. But I only want to show I care. After all they are my half sisters. Sometimes I feel desperate to look after something. Anything. So as not to feel alone.
Once I fed a stray cat with scraps at home. But we don’t have many, so it eventually went somewhere else. It hadn’t been in the yard very long. But I missed it when it left. It needed me and was my friend. I liked the feeling.
After the first camping sleep, I took the sandwiches dad made and went off to explore. Following the old paths and learning some new ones. Dad says he’s always worried I will get lost, but I’ve been doing this long enough now for him to expect me back when I’m hungry. And of course Sarah is happy as he can spend time with her and the twins.
It was luck that I found him the very first day.
I was on a track I knew well but noticed an area behind some tall trees that I had never explored. I tagged a trunk with some red tape, so I could find my way out, and went over. Then an area a little way ahead caught my attention. It looked similar to a cave, as some of the branches had tangled together to make a kind of roof. I thought it was a perfect place to stop for lunch, but when I got there… I saw the box. With a lid. Made with the same kind of stuff as old ladies baskets.
It was a bit wider than two of my feet and lengthy. Not as long as me though.
At first I was scared to open it, so sat down on the bracken and played a game I often get into at home. Wishing.
Walking back from school I often wish that when I arrive home mum will be the same as Mrs Smith, and have toast and jam waiting.
Sitting next to the box, I wished inside there was something that would need me. Like the cat had for a brief time.
After eating a ham sandwich I plucked up the courage to put my hands on the lid. Heart beating. Ready to drop it and run if something jumped out. But I needn’t have worried. As I lifted the top I was quite overcome. Laying there, perfect, was a boy — eyes shut… angelic face. Probably about seven years old.
I knew he was dead. I may only be eleven, but I’m not stupid.
I suppose the box was a coffin.
His light brown hair had been combed back from his face, which was badly bruised above his right eye. He was wearing the kind of suit a boy might wear to an adult party, if he had to look smart and not like a kid. It probably wasn’t comfortable to wear either. Without thinking I bent down and loosened his collar. He looked dreadfully thin, you know, beneath his clothes. But then who was I to talk?
I sat there for a while eating my food and before I knew it I was chatting away to him.
“Did your mum beat you too just for living? Expect, that’s why you’re dead. But you look so still laying there. Peaceful. My mum drinks and whores… It’s OK at school but I am tired a lot. It’s a hard job looking after yourself most of the time when you’re not yet an adult. Did you find that out too?”
After a while I started getting cold and told him I had to go for a hike to warm up, but would be back the next day, and not to worry.
I was excited.
On the way back to camp, I wondered why he didn’t smell or anything. I thought that dead bodies went off like food after a while. Then I suddenly realised. If you put food in the fridge, it lasts longer. It was cold here, and his box was quite high up. The air was very fresh.
I didn’t mention the boy to anyone. This was my secret. Something especially for me. Dad asked if I wanted him to come with me the next day when I went exploring. I said I was fine and smiled. He didn’t push it.
I expect he thinks he’s doing his parental bit just by bringing me away twice a year, you know. And I suppose it’s true in a way. Lots of young people never get to go on holiday. But most have a decent mum though.
When I tried to get to sleep that night and heard the twins making noises while dreaming, I worried the boy was lonely by himself up there.
The next day, even though the sun was shining down on the forest, I dressed in an extra jumper. Then I packed my sandwiches, a comb and grabbing Mr Ted I took off.
It was a good ninety-minute walk to the box, so I was warm as toast when I arrived. I slowly opened the lid, scared an animal or something would have taken him, but no he was still there. Just like yesterday.
I put Mr Ted in beside him… and brushed his hair. “That’s better. Smart boy. And now at night-times you won’t be lonely, Mr Ted will protect you too.” I assured him.
Over the next couple of hours I continued to natter away when I suddenly realised… I had a name. Teddy did too. But what was the boy’s name?
“I always wanted a younger brother just like you. If you’d lived with us I would have kicked mum so hard if she’d tried to hurt you. You’d have been fine with me. I hope it’s OK… I’m going to call you Sid. That’s a grand name for a little boy.”
I swear he smiled.
“Now Sid, let me introduce myself. I’m Ellie. You can think of me as your big sister.”
Later on before leaving, I grabbed some branches and rocks to put on top of Sid’s box. He would be safer during the night like that.
Back at the camp dad had a big fire going. For the first time in ages I was really happy. I ran over and hugged him. He held me tight and kissed the top of my head. We all sat round and ate sausages in a bun. Even Sarah didn’t seem so bad…
I was up early the next day making my own sandwiches. I’d had plenty of practice doing that at home. I put them and my mini radio in my ruck sack and took off.
Sid was fine but very cold. I had thought of bringing him a blanket but wasn’t sure if it would make him go mouldy — you know, like food does when you forget to take it out from your bedroom and it gets too warm.
We chatted for ages. I was cold so went for a walk. When I got back I told him all about when dad left, and said I was sad he didn’t have a father as nice as mine.
“But, no worries Sid. You have me now. It’s like we’ve adopted each other.” I smiled down at him.
Before I put the top back on the box later that afternoon I turned the radio on low, and laid it next to his head.
“This will keep you company along with Mr Ted. See you tomorrow Sid.”
The days flew by and my mood changed. I was content visiting Sid and trekking in the woods
At the mere thought of going home my heart jumped and beat faster. Mum always seemed worse when I returned. Perhaps it was because I became, like, unused to her ways, being away.
She’d shout and scream, often whacking me around the head while telling me off for being gone so long. Almost as if she missed me.
Once, I came back and a john had beat her up a bit. At first, I wondered why all her men seem to be called John, then I worked it out.
A sick feeling grew in my stomach.
I was going to miss Sid. Sounds silly but I felt like he was my brother. I didn’t want to leave and I didn’t want to go home either.
Suddenly I knew what I had to do. Then… I felt as light as air.
On the last morning of the trip I was up with the birds and quietly rolled up my sleeping bag and tied it to my rucksack. I took some food and wore most of my clothes.
Scribbling a note for Dad I left it on the car’s windscreen… I love you Dad. Then I left.
Arriving at my new home I made sure to remove the red tape from the tree on the main path. Then I busied myself making a bench with some branches and gathering leaves, bracken and moss which would be my bed later. Sid was happy to have me there chattering away…
“… and so now you don’t ever have to be alone again. It’s you and me together forever.” I knelt over and kissed his forehead.
Putting new batteries in the radio I switched on some pop music and showed Sid a dance Connie had taught me.
We laughed.
After, I collected berries to eat. I wasn’t sure if they were edible or poisonous, but I figured it didn’t matter. One way or another I was never going back to mum.
I knew they would be a search party but I was well off the beaten track. If they hadn’t found Sid up until now, it was sure going to take them a long time to find me.
When it got dark I laid down next to Sid. I didn’t need to put the lid on his box. Looking through the tops of the trees the stars sparkled in the sky, and as I said at the start of my tale I felt very small being under the enormous sky.
Time for Sid to be told a children’s story. It should be a law that all kids are read to and loved before they go to sleep at night.
I recited one from memory I’d heard dad read to the twins most evenings:
We’re going on a bear hunt.
We’re going to catch a big one.
What a beautiful day!
We’re not scared.
Uh-uh!
A forest!
A big dark forest.
We can’t go over it.
We can’t go under it.
Oh no!
We’ve got to go through it!
Stumble trip! Stumble trip! Stumble trip…
“Night Sid.” I said… “I love you… We’re not scared.”
But I am weary. As I close my eyes, I know I’m ready…
THE END
In the essay below
explores the silent struggle of children and young adults.
Oh, that dreadful and desperately lonesome feeling! I've known it. It came across so well through your writing that it became a main character in the story. At least to me. This piece won't leave me too soon. Heart-wrenching and excellent.
Wow. Very intense May.