A piece a Hell broke loose when Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated at the age of 39. A piece of Hell broke loose when Mahatma Gandhi was killed in 1984. A piece of Hell broke loose when people found out what Joseph Kony was doing to the people of Uganda. A piece of Hell broke loose for every act of unjust torture, every feeling of hatred upon another and every murder committed throughout human existence.
Bit-by-bit these hellish pieces would hunt their prey until life itself was an endless abyss. Eventually, all victims would be preyed upon and nothing would be left. Hell’s broken pieces had to be put back together to keep sanity intact. So the unthinkable was thought and the undoable was done. These pieces had to be kept in a sanctuary where they would not break loose anymore.
One solid black box; that’s all it took to seal these lost fragments of Hell. No lock, no key, just a four by seven inch box, covered in paint as dark as night. Its hinges were rusting and the monotonous corners popping out of every side.  It was ancient, demolished and antique. But it was special. It was that one box that could take all the severed pieces of Hell and keep them away from the rest of the world.  And when the rest of the world was safe, no new pieces of Hell would break loose and victimize an innocent soul. They would be kept, stored, trapped in that one black box until someone came knocking.
*??     *??       *
To this very day, that one black box that stored all those lost pieces of Hell remains. Its hinges still rusted, its paint still as dark as night and its corners still the same as always, dull; except the inside of this box contained nothing but emptiness and all of the hellish existences were gone. It looked shriveled and emaciated, like it had not consumed anything for a while. The box just regurgitated all its components – all those lost pieces of Hell. All because someone came knocking. All because someone had the audacity to allow the prey to be fed on.  All because someone wanted to see Hell break loose one more time. Those missing pieces spread like a fire in a grass field, and that someone, did not do anything to extinguish the flame.
Hell broke loose yet again when someone peeked into the box. That someone was me.