Memories of a Box

Six years had passed…

Small steps, big strides, yells – Ms. Ballot Box can only hear all of these through the small holes in the window. Then again,

she hears footsteps coming back and forth towards her room but they never did go inside the room. She peeks through the

window and looks at the people outside. All of them are busy. They are all on the work for the day’s risky event. A person

comes and passes by. She shouts, but it seems that she is the only one to notice her presence.

Her eyes sag and then she goes back to where she is situated minutes before. She now looks at her surroundings. The room

is dark. It is empty. She is empty.

Ms. Ballot Box then slowly reaches for a paper and a pen on the table next to her. She puts herself in place and then starts

writing.

Dear Electorates,
The first time the Commission on Elections handed down to me the duties to secure your country’s future, I
panicked. I had apprehension in performing the job but then I had no other choice. I had to accept the responsibility
– the responsibility which is now stripped off me.
In the very first place, I know how important the Election Day is. I know how it feels to vote for the candidate you
hoped to make your country better, because I was always your sole witness. I know how long you have yearned for a
good election and I also witnessed how you were disheartened because never once did it happen. Despite the facts
that your goals have failed so many times, I had never left you in your struggle for your children’s future.
But now, look at me. You have cast axes on my back. I am now here in this corner, alone and filled with nothing.
I am completely empty. I will never be able to feel the same feeling I used to have. The joy and fear of carrying your
votes from the precincts to the COMELEC’s office is now gone. How I missed doing such a job! How I missed to serve
you, my countrymen!
I could still recall the times that I was treated more than a celebrity. No, more than a president. I had all of you
always by my side. Your attention was always mine. And whenever anyone would try to steal me from your watchful
eyes you never hesitated to fight, even if it would cost you your life.
But, in a blink, I was replaced. When that photocopier-looking alien came to invade your minds you never
hesitated to replace me. You didn’t even know if he really counted your votes correctly, or if he could really count for
that matter.
Never once had I forsaken you. I had my duties done with utmost care and dedication. Was that machine greater
than I? I won’t accept him as my rival because he had proved nothing and there’s nothing good in him. He had
never served you once before. Only now!
Look at that machine closely. How could you put your trust on him? He is an outlandish.
Look at me. I am still the same ballot box you’ve been with since 1907. All throughout those years, I have served
you more than you have protected me. All throughout those years I have asked nothing from you in exchange of
my service. Now, it seems that I am the only one aware of the merit I deserve. I want to be a part of your country’s
future. Not in your history.
 

Yours,
Ms. Ballot Box

Ms. Ballot Box folds the paper and slowly inserts it into the hole on top of her head. Then, as the pen rolls away, Ms. Ballot

Box gently closes her eyes. Teardrops ran down on the metallic container.

Note: This is an original story by Red Phantom.