Don’t put it in the box 箱にいれないで











A princess in a country a short distance away woke up the moment a spider ran its toes over her eyelids. There was no pain in her body, so she thought she was dead and started walking as a ghost.

The summer forest was cool and just like heaven. She found a two-story house painted white. A young woman with slit eyes invited the princess in with a smile. The princess was served heather tea and steamed dumplings wrapped in red bean paste, and she was able to hear the sound of hot water bubbling clearly, having escaped all her responsibilities.

After a while, the slit-eyed woman showed her a small box with a baby squirrel. The princess, who had never been allowed to keep a living creature, was glad to feel its warm weight in her palm for the first time. As soon as she reminded herself that she was still alive, she felt a look that told her she shouldn't be here. The sharp-eyed woman looked sad, but she took the baby squirrel and put it in a box.

The Princess’s eyes were different from left to right. The difference was as faint as the desert night onyx and the shadows on a rock lit up in predawn there but

she’d always let her eyes beated her to it whenever she looked at her own face. The princess lived according to the will of her eyes. Most people would consider their eyes to be their own, but for some people, their eyes were older and wiser than they were.

The princess was suspicious of anyone who used the word "gifted”. The princess had always been in where there was no one who was not gifted, and the term "gifted" seemed to her like a decorared cake that needed to be sliced and sold in the showcase to differentiate it.

The princess was sensitive about capitalist ideas because she knew the history of women, even if this is in old fairly tale.

Now that her legs had a firm grip on the ground, the princess in the country a short distance away asked again about the whitewashed two-story house, refraining from a second cup of tea, but asking the sharp-eyed woman to show her the squirrel.

Without replying, she presented the box to the princess and opened its lid.

The color of the princess's eyes switched, and she looked back in time and straight at the little life. “No" was all the princess said. In just a few hours, the baby squirrel was breathing its last, and the slit-eyed woman had found a replacement and put it in the box.

A little further away, the princess heard for the first time the voices of the witches she had killed.

By the medium necks

Thank you so much  for looking through this.



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