IT'S ALL ME

Elii found herself on an overly soft excuse for a bed in a confinement big enough to house a thousand people, everywhere was pink and although that was a strange color for building-sand to be, she was more concerned about the little box beside her that kept lighting up and turning off. She got off the odd bed and peered closely at the small rectangle box on a standing altar. It came alive before her eyes, the face lighting up like nothing she had ever seen before, swaying softly, almost unnoticeably. What was it? Creeping closer and lest her hosts return and find out she had discovered their sorcery, she stayed away from the square holes in the smooth rock structures that joined at four corners. Waving her hand over it, the little box began singing … a little flat to be considered a box she thought, but what else would she call it? Just then it began dancing to the rhythm of its song in a slow, almost celestial manner. What dark magic was this? What spirit had they trapped in here? and for how long, for it to dance so mournfully as it idled by on the wooden four-legged altar?

“Hello” she called out in her foreign tongue. “Do you hear me?”

“Try saying, Hey Siri, what’s the weather today?” a message appeared on the face of the little box.

“Ha! Oh no, who did this to you? Tell me? How do I get you out of there?” She continued in her foreign tongue. The face went blank again. It must be scared, she thought.

Elii passed her hand over the face again to offer some comfort and when it came alive with light she grabbed it hastily almost tipping over the wooden altar. 

“It’s okay, I’m a friend, you can trust me.”

Silence…

“Tell me how to get you out of there.”

Silence…

In a list ditch effort to save the trapped spirit, she smashed the rectangular prison on the floor and hoped the spirit could escape through the cracks.

“Ah, what have you done?” her host, a female hooman with bright green eyes and red hair ran into the pink confinement and stared at her in what must have been shock. Elii had never been the best at interpreting hooman countenances, but she knew the anger of a robbed jailor when she saw one and was glad to have set the poor spirit free.