Snowflakes | Teen Ink


December 11, 2014
By SaraCattt PLATINUM, Shelton, Washington
SaraCattt PLATINUM, Shelton, Washington
34 articles 0 photos 12 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I am and always will be the optimist. The hoper of far flung hopes, the dreamer of improbable dreams."- The Eleventh Doctor

He stepped into her office. The windows were draped in crisp white curtains. Daniel sat in a white chair, his shoes squealing against the white marble floor. Luminescent light was cast through the nearly invisible windows. Everything on the desk perfectly and sequentially organized. It was black and stood out boldly in the sharp white room. It even had white pens lined atop a few papers. Paintings of snow on the walls. Everything so blended in, white on white on white. Except that desk. That black desk. What type of wood was that? He didn’t know.
The white door creaked opened, letting in a bright light. He squinted, covering his eyes. The light vanished. Daniel reopened his eyes, now greeted by a woman in a white dress, sleek white hair wrapped in a tight bun. Despight her hair color, she didn’t appear to be more than twenty, but it was incredibly hard to tell. She sat, her eyes crystal and dimensional against her pale skin. It was like someone crafted them, shattered diamonds and put them into her skull. That is the best way he could think to describe it.
“How may I help you today Mr. Waters?” Her voice rang like a wind chime.
“Who are you?” Daniel was struck with a sudden sense that he didn’t know where or why he was there.
She laughed gingerly, resting her hands on the desk. She spoke, suddenly serious. “You look confused.”
He glanced around the room. There weren’t any shadows despight the light from the window. He stood, confused. Looking out the nearly air clear glass, Daniel's confusion grew as he was struck by the sight of clouds. Floating, drifting past the window. Bright white clouds illuminated by a light seemingly of their own. He turned back to the strange woman.
“What is this?”
“That depends.” She answered, her face placid.
“Depends on what? Where am I? How did I get here?”
“All common questions.” She responded, pushing herself away from the desk, the chair squeaking across the reflective marble. Her white shoes clicked against the stone as she came to stand beside Daniel. He looked up at her, her figure and grace viper-like.
“Common questions?” He felt like a child on the first day of school, never running out of inquisitions.
They stood in silence for a moment, looking at the never ending, never darkening clouds before them. Finally, the mysterious women spoke. “You should be going.”
“But I still don’t know where I am.” He said, flustered. He didn’t know what to do, where to go.
“You never will. Not for a long time Daniel Waters.”
“Who are you?”
“That is unimportant.”
“It’s important to me.” He gaped at her. Her hard expression softened, her eyes seeming to read him like a book.
“I suppose you could stay. There isn’t much to do here. You have four minutes.”
Daniel sighed, retreating from the window back to the chair. The black desk. The woman still stood at the window, examining the clouds. Daniel didn’t sit down. He soundlessly began inching to the back of her desk, where her white chair sat unmoved. He glanced behind it. Closed drawers stared back at him.
“It is impolite to look at unopened gifts.” The woman said.
“Isn’t that what you mother told you on your tenth birthday when you looked in her bedroom for your presents?”
Daniel stood, stunned. “Yes. I think so.”
“Why don’t you take her advice.” Her voice had lowered. She turned, her eyes dark.
Before Daniel could think, his hand was on the handle of the first drawer. The woman stood, unmoving as he opened it. Pitch black greeted him. And then something amazing happened. Small, barely visible stars appeared out of the blackness. He reached into the drawer, watching still as his hand moved the tiny dots. He was fascinated. He picked one out, grasping it between his finger tips, looking it over. It diminished within seconds of touching it, melting like snow.
“Every single one is different…” He whispered.
The woman sighed, appearing beside him. He hadn’t even heard her walk over.
“Your time is up.”
“No. What is this place.”
“That was a life you held.”
He paled, his complexion matching hers.
“Yes. A life. Of who, I do not know.”
“Are you… A God of some sort?”
She laughed, dryly. “No more questions.”
“But wait!”
“I don’t know wh-“
“OUT.” Her voice bounced off of the walls. He stumbled as he opened the door, the light blinding him as he stepped out into a cold, windy, blank environment.

Daniel Waters awoke on the side of the road, feet and fingers numb. His crumbled car rest beside him, smoke filing the cold air, sinking down into his lungs. He breathed it in. Everything around him was blurry, cold. He tried to sit up, but found he couldn’t move. He swallowed heavily, his throat like a dessert. He blinked slowly, trying to recall the woman as flashing lights and faded sirens rang out in the distance. He moved his head agonizingly, wincing as he looked at his numb hand which rest beside him.
A small snow flake, bright white, landed in his palm. It did not melt.

The author's comments:

I love to toy with the idea of dreams, comas, etc. I think it is amazing and facinating what the sub-conscious mind is capable of.

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