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chelseaekidd · 4 years

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Black.

No, grey. Or was it...sepia?

The haze thinned, and black and white circles danced before their eyes on a vivid red background.

Carpets don’t dance, they thought. They blinked, and the image stabilized.

They lifted their cheek from the floor. They could move, this was promising. Their body ached in new ways. To be expected, given their unfortunate sleeping position. Wearing jeans certainly hadn’t helped, either. Pulling themself upright, with some protest from their back and neck, they glanced at the bed, perfectly made.

Nothing like a hotel bed... though it’s better when you actually sleep in it. Why didn’t I sleep in it?

Why am I in a hotel?

They remembered something about a fall. Did they see someone fall? Did something fall on them? Did they fall? They would’ve remembered falling. Right? Ultimately the haze of waking was nothing compared to the haze of memory. They shrugged away the thought.

The alarm clock on the nightstand screeched, a sound that didn’t fully register, at a frequency they felt they’d never experienced. Half-past six, time to get up. They didn’t remember setting an alarm, and they weren’t sure why they hadn’t used their phone, but who were they to question the alarm? There had to be a reason they needed to be up, yet their hand darted to the snooze button. There was time.

They collapsed on the bed and turned their head toward the window. As their eyes passed over the wall-mounted television set, they thought they saw a familiar image…possibly of the time they donated bone marrow to their sister--they had a sister!--but they immediately noticed that the TV was off.

Did I drink? I don’t drink.

For the next six minutes and forty-two seconds, they retreated into the sepia-grey-blackness that had previously enveloped them, until the alarm clock once again asserted its authority.

Sunlight. Maybe that will help.

They slid off the bed (carefully, to avoid coming face to face with the carpet again) and drifted toward the window. Bracing themself for the light, they opened the curtains and stared out at a parking lot where their parents--no, just a pair of dark-suited executives--hurried toward the building. At the edge of the parking lot stood a brick wall, painted white, obscuring anything beyond it. They stood peering through the glass, until brisk footsteps and creaking wheels in the hallway distracted them and they decided to shower.

The bathroom was more spacious than they had expected, and everything in it gleamed. They examined the toiletries on the counter. No labels. The decor was all in near-perfect condition but of a style reminiscent of their grandmother’s bathroom, though the colors here echoed the red, black, and white of the hotel room rather than the lilac and pink of Grandmom’s house. They noticed the subtly flickering blue illuminating the mirror, and examined their reflection. They took in their own face, feeling a visceral compassion for this person they had taken for granted until now.

Sky. I’m... Sky.

Without thinking, they reached a hand out to touch their double’s face. The blue glow intensified, and the surface of the mirror rippled at their fingertips. They gasped, retreating to the shower. The water began to run as soon as they stepped in. They immediately sat, the spray washing over them, hollow sobs shaking their body. Despite remembering now who they were and their life so far, they seemed to be no closer to understanding what had brought them here.

The shower stopped. They attempted to turn the water back on to no avail. Shivering and sniffling, they put on the robe that hung on the wall.

Soft. Almost too soft.

They approached the mirror, longing for a familiar face, even their own, and aching for an affectionate touch. This time they put both hands out, wincing as their fingers neared the glass and carefully opening their eyes again just as their wrists passed through, surrounded in blue light. They pulled them back out and, without another thought, climbed onto the counter, carefully adjusting the robe, and leaned against their reflection.

A flash of blue turned to stillness until yellow-white abstraction filled the space above them. Soon they could hear a dull hum, punctuated by beeps. Shapes appeared, soft at first, then in focus. They saw their own face looking down on them, stained with tears and...mascara? No, not their face, their sister.

Vera! Where have you been? I love you.

The words formed in their head and dissipated, unheard.

They tried again. They tried six more times. It wasn’t that it caught in their throat; it was that it never made it that far. They saw Vera’s sobs intensify and reached for her hand--they reached--they willed themself to reach for her hand. They felt a dread of their own but they could put that aside. Vera needed them. Vera needed them, and there was nothing they could do for her.

Their field of vision filled abruptly with familiar red, black, and white.

The carpet?

They sat up carefully. Sure enough, they were in the same hotel room, and even the same uncomfortable position as before. Their robe had been replaced by the clothes they had worn previously. They were coming to resent the rivets on their jeans.

Their head pulsed with questions but they had to see Vera again before anything else. This time there was no hesitation. They entered the bathroom and leaned into the mirror. The blue light transitioned immediately to yellow-white, and they were soon staring up at Vera...just as she stepped away from their bedside. They wanted to scream but instead their eyes widened in silence.

Their father took Vera’s place by their bedside. His tears put Vera’s to shame. They never quite knew when their father was being sincere, but they had long found it easier to accept these things at face value.

“Honey. Oh honey. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I love you. I know--I know it’s been tough, I do, but I love you so much and I just want you to get through this. I want you back.”

But I’m here now. How do I--wait, eyes. I can--I’ll try that.

They slammed their eyelids shut, then forced them open. Their father was lost to his own theatrics, creating a world that didn’t quite align with their memories. They blinked harder.

Dad, if you’re ever going to think of someone other than yourself, now is the time.

“Dad. Dad!”

Vera was back.

“Dad, can I have my spot?”

“Come on, V, I was just trying to have a moment with my s--child.” He sniffled.

“You had all morning with them.”

How long has it been since the alarm clock?

“Fair enough.” He backed away.

Vera leaned over to give them a kiss. She smelled like raspberries. Like the cheesecake the two of them used to buy at the café near their mother's office when they'd go there after school. As she pulled back, she took a bite from a pre-packaged danish.

That explains it.

They steeled themself to try communicating. Could they handle it if they went unnoticed again? They would have to.

“It’s my birthday, sib. I was kinda hoping you’d come out of this today. Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve come out, huh?” Vera paused. “Yeah, that was dumb.”

They blinked, slowly at first, but they soon picked up steam.

“I think we’re going to go get Thai later. I really want fried bananas. And ginger ice cream.” Vera dropped to a whisper, “And it’s my birthday so mom can’t judge me for having both. I mean, we both know she will anyway, but…”

They continued to blink, feeling the exhaustion take over their body. Vera’s voice sounded far away now, and when they opened their eyes, it was, once again, the red carpet of the hotel room. They could hear voices now, though. Vera was still talking about Thai food, but there were also voices that seemed to be coming from the hallway. Agitated voices.

They forced themself back to the mirror. Vera was talking about something else now. She sounded so animated. They heard their mother and father, and Vera spoke with more intensity.

“I really think they’re in there, Mom. I didn’t realize it at first, but they blinked. Like obviously they would blink, but--it’s different. I'm not crazy!”

She knows. She knows.

“Sky, come on. You’ve gotta show Mom and Dad. You’ve gotta come back for us. Please blink like you did before.”

Footsteps approached the door to their room. From the bathroom doorway, they watched, frozen. They glanced at the mirror but couldn’t move.

“Blink, Sky.” Vera’s voice wavered.

Someone’s hand was on the door handle now. That someone seemed to have a key.

Sky knew now--there was no time. They saw their reflection. They wanted to go to the mirror.

“Sky, you have to blink. Blink twice, come on.”

The door opened.

Black.

(Writing Prompt Exercise, Creative Writing course, January 2019)

#text #general #creative writing #2019

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