Adapted From a Dream

April 5, 2004

            She stood in the middle of a shadowy room, four walls around her painted black, and a ceiling dark red. The carpet smelled musky as if it had not been walked upon for years. Occasionally a rodent would dash across the dank floor scattering dust and disturbing the silence with its minute movements. Posters hung randomly across the walls rustled with the occasional breeze blowing through an open window. The posters were all shredded concealing their true images, leaving dark colored shadows on the walls. Black lace curtains billowed in slow motion allowing a glimpse of the silver crescent-shaped moon suspended in a pitch black, starless sky. No furniture adorned the room.


            She took a step forward, her breath echoing in the small room. The girl looked around carelessly, moving so slowly that it seemed the breeze was enfolding her, gently compelling her towards her unknown destination. Suddenly, the air recognized a purpose; she drifted into the bathroom.


            The walls were perfectly white as was the ceiling and chipped tile floor. A white pedestal sink and toilet stood across from each other and a bathtub sat at the far end of the uncommonly sterile room. The bathroom was oddly attractive she thought idly. Not knowing what she wanted to do, she turned around to see that the breeze had pushed the door closed. She tried to turn the doorknob and found it locked. Unable to turn it she headed for the sink and put her hands on the sides of it, staring down into the drain with a detached curiosity. She looked around and again then stepped towards the bathtub kneeling in front of it and turning the faucet, quickly filling the tub with crystalline water. Swirling the water with one hand she closed her eyes and passed out, falling into the tub.


            Groggily the girl lifted herself from the tub. Confused and disoriented she did not know how long she had been asleep. Feeling a throbbing on top her head, she reached to rub it and pulled a way as a cut revealed itself with a sting, leaving blood on her hand.  She lay back down in the tub, her ears underwater but her face above, satisfied that the room was safe. Suddenly, soft tapping could be heard on the door. She ignored it thinking it was just the breeze outside. The tapping became louder, clearly a knocking on the door. She ignored it still, not wanting to be disturbed from her peaceful bathing. Yet it still increased, until it seemed likely the door would fall off his hinges, slamming against its frame and shaking the whole room.


            Afraid of what was beyond the door, she got out of the tub and dragged her feet across the floor her white night gown leaving puddles behind her. She opened the door, surprised to find it was unlocked. A man she had never seen before awaited her. He spoke to her hurriedly, stumbling over his words and looking near tears. The girl was frightened and stepped back, not sure what to do. The man eventually gathered himself and told her that she had killed his son. That she took away the only thing that ever meant anything to him. Scared, she started to cry explaining that she was unconscious the whole time, she couldn’t possibly have done it. He began shaking her shoulders, yelling desperately in her face. She again tried to convince him of her innocence, but he insisted and instructed her to go back and look in the bathtub.


             She did so, only to find that the water was crimson. A boy about the same age as her lay face down in what she distinguished as blood. She sobbed hysterically, turning on the faucet to wash off the boy. Blood leaked from the faucet. Crying still, she ran out into the black room, shoving the man aside and hiding herself in a closet. The man whispered something inaudible into the bathroom. She heard the boy splash and rise from the tub.


He spoke louder “Good thing you got her, son. And the best part is: she doesn't even know that's her own blood.”





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