Lost

Its still in the works, but everything is there. I just need to correct any simple mistakes a make a couple of things clearer.

Lost

The air in the room was thick with something. It is not so much as a suffocating thickness, but more so of an uncomfortable feeling that sets at the bottom of the throat. As the fear sets in, it becomes harder to breath. The room is no longer the room I remember; to be sure, everything was the same. As I scan the interior, I notice that the books are all in their rightful place along the wall. The creepy painting of some long lost relative is still hanging right above my dresser, I really need to get rid of that. My watch, my wallet, my phone, all still in place from the night before.

Slowly gathering the courage to sit up, I could hear the consistent tapping of rain hitting the window sill, but I could also hear birds happily chirping away. A flash of light from outside illuminated the room, but as quickly as the light came, again the room was filled with darkness. But no thunder, no vibrations, no sound ever followed, but the happy tone the birds gave off.

With all these things going on at once, the space I seemed to occupy felt still, unmoving. The rain continued to fall, the birds continued their song, but I seemed stuck, transfixed in one moment, one place, one time. Something kept me in this bed; I could only move my upper body. I tried to move my legs, but I could not feel them. I tried to rip off the covers, but they too were fixed.

Again, a flash of light filled the room with light and a slightly green hue. I do not know what it was about the light, but I felt off put by it; it is, in some way, unnatural or just off. As a waited for the sound of crackling thunder, I was again disappointed. The only sound came from those annoying birds, just out of grasp, chirping away as though nothing was happening.

Singing a tune of freedom, mocking me while I lay in this bed, in a room that looks like mine, but something tells me that this is not real. Suddenly, I chime was struck indicating it was one o’clock. It came from the corner of the room, a clock I did not notice until now, but it still furthered my fears nonetheless.

With that sound, another flash came from the window. As the light faded, I could feel the sheets loosen ever so slightly. I quickly ripped them off and stood up without any resistance. But as I stood, my vision blurred and I felt lightheaded. Collapsing on the bed, I could still hear the birds outside, singing and singing and singing the same note over and over again.

My sight returned to me, but this did not relieve me. I noticed on the ceiling that it was riddled with marks; marks that had a purpose, but what exactly, I could not tell. As I laid there, I could tell that the marks gave off a glow, barely noticeable, but still there. A flash from the window again came, but this time the markings above me disappear.

As my strength returned to me, I slowly sat up and stood for some time. I made my way towards the door, but again, a flash of light entered the room, but this time with a slightly red glow. When I looked back at the door, it was no longer there; replaced with a blank wall.

Hanging on that wall was a second painting, but one I have never seen before. It depicted a single room, much like the room I was in now, with four walls and a single window. The room was empty, only a woman dressed in white starring outside the window; her features were not well defined, but there was an air of sadness as she looked out to the unknown.  

My next option was to move to the window.  As I peered outside I confirmed that is was raining. I could see no birds, but their endless song could still be heard. I felt for any way to open the window, but this proved fruitless. Again, the clock sounded its tune followed by another identical sound. Immediately after, the light came back with its original green hue.

I looked back outside, I could see a single tree being battered by the storm. She has been stripped of her leaves and left naked to the elements; forced to endure the wrath of whatever was thrown at her.

Feeling weary, I could not stand for much longer. I made my way towards the bed and flopped myself over the sheets. I buried my head in the pillow and felt myself sink into the bed. As I closed my eyes, I could hear the clock again strike her tune, but this time it was followed by three more. I opened my eyes and gazed at the clock; it was indeed four o’clock. Have two hours passed by without my notice? I curled up in a ball and rested my head between my arms.

I awoke with a single chim, followed immediately by a flash of light. I opened my eyes again to find that the room has been stripped of all decor but the bed, clock, and the two paintings hanging on the wall. It was still raining, all the while the birds continued to annoy me with their constant chirping.

I noticed that I was under the covers, not able to move; I was only allowed to watch in horror as the room around me began to be filled with markings. The markings meant nothing to me, but they must have a purpose. Perhaps they were there to mock me along with the birds outside.

A flash came from the window, returning with it the red glow. As quickly as it came, again it was gone, taking with it the markings. Suddenly, the painting of my relative fell from its position, crashing into the ground. The glass was shattered, but I could still discern the features. Her eyes were staring right at me, filling my head with depression. She was beautiful, but again her grace was plagued with a sense of loneliness.

A sound came from the corner again, slightly shaking the room with it with each strike of the bell, two o’clock. The flash proceeded, as was expected, and the sheets loosened its grip on my legs. Remembering my last attempts, I slowly came to me feet and walked towards the fallen picture.

I avoided the broken glass and picked up what remained of the frame. Upon closer inspection, I concluded that the woman in the painting was the same in the picture. One staring out into a lost world, and the other staring at a lost man.

I moved back to the bed and sat down. As I was pondering on what the hell was going on, the clock rang, this time indication the third hour. With this, another flash came from the window, but this light had neither red nor green accommodating  it, but rather was white, pure blinding white.

As my eyes adjusted a single man appeared in front of me; he was standing where the door was once was. He said not a word, but extended his hand towards me. He was wearing pure white, but from both wrists and his side, I could see blood stained on his garments. His plane features made no attempt to show any emotion, other than concern for the man before him.

He stepped to the right and with that the door appeared again. I immediately stood up and made my way towards the door, paying no attention to the man, who ever he may be. I attempted to open the door on my own, but failed to do so. My efforts proved futile as I continued to force the door open.

I turned to the man and he again extended his hand to me. I questioned this whole ordeal and debated on whether or not to take his hand. As I stood there, I could still hear the birds outside, never able to leave a peaceful moment to rest. I turned to the window, shouting without any progress to show for it. Still the birds continued without hindrance. When I turned back, the man was gone and with him, the door also. I collapsed to the ground, tears blurring my sight. With this, the clock again struck its chords, with three following after.

I awoke again, not in the bed, but still on the ground; actually, the bed was no longer there. The clock again sounded, one o’clock, along with a single flash of greenish light. I looked around and all was still. Not a single mark, not a single chirp from outside, nothing but the sound of my own breathing and the tapping of the rain outside.

The painting was still hanging on the wall; the clock was still resting in the corner, but the picture was no longer in my hand nor was there any sign of the broken glass on the floor. These were now the only objects occupying the room other than myself and the window.

The chime sounded twice and and a flash blinded me temporarily. The markings returned, but something was different. They were no longer scattered scratches engraved on the wall. Instead they were moving; all coming together to form a single image.

As the image became more complete, again the clock reigned in the third hour. The flash of pure white returned along with its occupant. He was dressed the same as before and his clothes still bored the stains. He pointed to the window and I walked towards it to look outside.

The tree was no longer exposed to the elements, but instead was dressed in her own magnificence. The storm no longer bents her branches, but instead no longer touched her. It was still raining here, but out in the distance was peaceful, beautiful.

I looked back at the man and he looked at the markings on the ceiling. To my shock, it was an image of myself; an image of my features, but bearing with is was all my shame, all my failures, all my grief.

I looked back down and again he stretched out his hand. I made my way towards him, but I was reminded of the image above me. My feet felt heavy and I was stopped. He pointed to and then the wall. As I looked at the wall, the door reappeared and he again extended his hand towards me; all the while, the image above me continued to remind me of all my past deeds.

I could no longer look at the man before, and I turned to the window to gaze at the peaceful distance. With this, the clock sounded and a flash with it. The door, the clock, and the man vanished, the image above faded into nothing, and the painting lingered a few more minutes. Showing to me a room not so different from this, of a woman not so different from me.

As time moved on, that too was taken from me. In my efforts to find any joy, I made my way to the window, looking out into the vast storm. On the other side, the man stood under the tree and with him a multitude of people. As I watched, I could see them venturing off, away to lands of better fortune. Leaving me alone to sulk in my own tasteless surroundings, with nothing around me to remind me of what was once was and what will never be. I stayed there a few more moments, lost in my own thoughts, lost in my own way, lost, to never be found again.

Author's Note

Any problem you see, please point them out. I think that about as far as Im going with this, but a few more things could be added.

Reviews

[KarinaNovakMonsonego]

Well , this was intriguing. i liked how you made the nightmare seem real. was it a nightmare or a man going mad in his own head? ether way, i could feel his distress and imagine him clearly in that room.
i also like that you left the ending open, we never know if he woke up or cured and it leaves a sense of dread. But it also brings questions, it makes you think and feel and that''s what good writing is all about.
I noticed in some areas words were missed and i put them here.
-As a waited- -Suddenly, I chime--pointed to and- -but bearing with is --he man before,- -came to me feet- also some comas might be out of place.
also a question. you described inanimate objects-the clock and tree as her- was it intentional? is it a spirit of a woman he lost? like i said, it made me think . very nicely done.

[Caleb]

Thank you first off. When describing something as beautiful I usually use her instead of it, it's just a personal preference of mine. As for the clock however, I did not intend to give it anymore of a personally than a instrument of time. I may have said that it brought in the fourth hour or something like that, but that's about as far as it goes. For the spelling and grammar, I looked over it after I posted it and noticed a few of them myself and I have just been too lazy to fix them. Thank you again for the feedback.