Monday, 1 December 2008

The Room

She yells at me from across the table, her beauty twisted in anger and frustration. Her purple lips forming words I do not want to hear. She stands up, pushing her chair over in the process, the old, dark wood clattering against the dirty concrete. an image of dark purple roses and emerald leaves forming a crown flashes through my mind
"You have to open your eyes, you can't keep pretending, Olivia"
I look down at my hands, clasped loosely together, then my feet, dirty in comparison to the white gauze of my dress, brushing over the top of them. I cannot look at Annabell, because I know if I do, I'll break. I'll fall.
A breeze I cannot feel blows her dark red dress around her legs, adding to the alluring image in front of me: she is so beautiful, it is hard to believe her words mean anything, and yet, they mean almost everything in this desolate room. The windows are squares cut into the foot-thick stone, the curtains surrounding them hanging in creamy tatters. The walls are covered in peeling paint and whitewash. Dry leaves whisper as they move slightly in the breeze. The mahogany dinner table is to out of place in this room, as is the bright red rose, sitting in a tall, thin, glass vase on it. And yet, it is here. Just like me.
Long, brown hair slides over my shoulders, partially hiding me as she continues, "You are only hurting yourself and me by thinking that this can exist as it does in your mind." She leans on the table with both hands, "You're a fool to even think that you had a chance at this happy family becoming a reality. He's nowhere to be found, no baby will happen, no house, no life. Not here. Stop kidding yourself. Grow up."
She turns and stalks away, out a grey wooden door. Light streams through the windows, lighting up the wall and floor opposite me. I watch her go, stepping backwards until I bump the wall. My hands rise, covering my face. My fingers tug at my hair as my palms cover my eyes and I sink slowly down to the ground, tears running tracks on my face. I hug my legs tightly, pulling myself as close to me as I can. I face the left wall, staring at its peeling surface hopelessly.
I cannot get out of here. I know she is right, and who can dispute the truth?



  1. i like it, it's good (:
    and the descriptiveness... if that's a word, i forget, lol... is really detailed, in a good way (:

  2. hey thanks. lol yeah, it's a word. its jsut my imagination. if i could have the time to write down every one of these images i get like this i'd have enough for a book, i think. lol i wish...