Home Sweet Home

How I ever got here I do not know, but for five years I have been stuck in this box. The room is a perfect cube, approximately twenty feet in every direction with no doors or windows to speak of. On one wall, there is a clock in the shape of a cat, whose eyes shift back and forth with each passing second. On the opposite wall is a small painting of a shoeless boy fishing off of a pier. Other than these two items, the room is void of decor. In the middle of the ceiling there is a sliding hatch which randomly opens to drop various items down into my space (books, clothes, photographs; I was once mysteriously given a gold trophy). Each day at exactly 11am, a parachute carrying a tray of food slowly descends, gently landing on my floor. These meals are not your ordinary dishes, all are unique and more delicious than the next. They transcend all varieties of cuisine, sometimes being atypical enough to be "unclassifiable". In fact, all of the items I've received are one-of-a-kind and of the highest quality. The books (written by authors I've never heard of) contain stories that are more interesting and gripping than anything I've read in the outside world. The photographs are always beautifully composed while the clothes are soft, comfortable and quite frankly, look great (as if they were custom made just for me). Suddenly, I hear the sound of the hatch slide open and I look up, horrified to see what is plunging down to greet me.