The Suffocated Room

March 5, 2009
By Kaitlin Wonder SILVER, Omaha, Nebraska
Kaitlin Wonder SILVER, Omaha, Nebraska
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The sky surrounded her from all four sides and clouds were floated. All was calm, at least for a while. Suddenly, a loud twinkle interrupts her reverie. The sight of a scruffy almond and black Yorkshire terrier makes her frown. As she tenses for the battle that is sure to follow, the beast continues slinking down the hall. Now fully aware of reality, the baby blue walls no longer resemble the sky but instead rush over her like the gentle waves of the ocean. The cold wood sharply reminds her that she is not floating on a cloud but rather the unforgiving surface of the dresser. Her reason for choosing this particular spot is about as clear as swampland, even to her. The sharp edges push into her skin and the light coat of dust hints that she needs to get to work on 'spring cleaning' so that there is a chance it will be done by the time she leaves for college. The chocolate-haired glass doll to her right stares at her with her cocoa colored eyes as though reprimanding her for perching on top of her dresser. The necklaces littering the coat of dust scold her for stealing their space and the mirror gives her the silent treatment for blocking its view of the pictures decorating the dresser on the opposite wall.

As though sensing her distress with the anger present in that part of her room, the robin's egg colored flannel sheets begin to whisper her name, promising to provide the love and comfort that is so lacking in her current position. The guarantee of soothing comfort entrances her and pulls her toward the bed as though she is under a spell. Unfortunately, the leg of the bed has different plans than the mattress and deliberately puts itself in the way of her big toe. The trance is broken as the pain throbs up her toe and she mentally curses her own clumsiness. Suddenly the slight murmur of her name reaches her ears and pulls her around to again face the door. Suddenly, the murmur turns into a plea for help, coming from her desk. Her beloved workplace is being suffocated by papers that have no significance. Out of the blue the carpet too starts crying for rescue from the smothering dirty clothes that litter the ground. Her beloved room is having the air taken from its lungs and suffering a slow, painful death. As quickly as the cries began, they extinguish as she reaches to deliver the clothing to the hamper and the papers to the trash can. Finally, after years of anguish, the room is allowed to breathe again.

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