On the Other SideA Story by TammeOn the Other Side
A cool breeze traveled through
the open window, blowing a soft sent of lilies around the room; a welcomed
chill to offset the strength of the sun beaming through it. The window dressed
in a precariously hung translucent sheet, created a dreamy glow in the room.
The dark wood of the antique furniture soaked up the light and casting deep
dark shadows in which anything could hide. A long table in the center of the
room, with only two chairs, one on each end, had a light film of dust. One seat
was empty. The other seated a young woman. The
woman was porcelain, resembling a doll in color and domineer. Perfect blond curls and extra-large blue eyes
seemed to dominate her face, making her small pink lips barely noticeable. Her
white dress was a similar shade as the window coverings, without the dust. It
was light and soft as down feathers. She
sat, still as a doll in its stand, gazing at a silver vase full of white roses
in the same way as someone becomes entranced staring at a flame. In a second,
almost like someone snapped their fingers, she popped up to life, looking
around. Those large eyes grow wider with fear and confusion. None of this was
familiar. With no memory of how she arrived here, how could she leave. Other
than the window, there were no visible entrances or exits. In
the midst of her confusion, she did not hear or see anybody approach, but when
she looked to her left, less than two feet away, stood an elderly man. He stood
at attention dressed in a formal butler uniform. “Madam,”
he spoke, “the master is ready to see you.” He extended his hand to help her to
her feet. “Follow me.” His legs were long. Every one step of his was three of hers.
“Wait.
Can you slow down?” she asked. His pace did not slow and he did not respond.
They left through a door hidden in the great shadows. “Who are you? Who’s this master?” Then a new very pressing
question occurred to her causing her to stop for a moment. “Who am I!?” The
man walked on. She
wanted to stand her ground to protest, but instead, sprinted into a quick jog
to catch-up. Her dress flapped around her as the man lead her to a door. As she
went to enter, she caught something moving in the corner of her eye. For a
split second, she saw a crazy thing. A tiny woman, in a white tank top and
green skinny jeans, sat on the edge of an end table laughing hysterically. As
she moved closer, she reached out to grab the lady. When she opened her hand, it
was just another white rose crumbling to the floor. The
butler was out of sight when she looked up.
She hurried through the door to find a long corridor. Six doors lined
each side with floor to ceiling mirrors in-between each. The mirrors played
optical illusions, making doors appear where there were none, creating long
never-ending corridors, and bouncing light all over the place from the giant
window at the end with great green curtains. She turned to go back as the door
through which she entered slammed in her face. Turning the door knob was
impossible, as she found so was every other door she tried. Frustrated,
scared, and a little pissed off, she leaned on a door and slid down to the
floor. So many questions running through her mind, every memory she tried to
pull up was black. She banged the back
of her head on the wooden door when the voice boomed. “Come
here,” the male voice said in a commanding tone that most would not refuse.
Again, this stubbornness rose in her stomach. To
herself she thought, “I don’t know who I am or where I am, but I’m NOT
listening to strange voices telling me what to do!” The resistance was futile, as her legs ignored
her brain. “Stand
up,” said the voice and her legs obeyed
taking steps and bringing her nose to nose with her reflection in the mirror.
Her eyes were forced to see into the mirror. “Where
are you,” she whispered; however instead of the spoken words creating a mist on
the glass, they made a smoke into another space, like when talking outside in
winter. Her finger tips rose to touch the glass, but the mirror touched her
first. Attempting to jump back, she
couldn’t. It was if some large being was standing right at her heels and
wrapping around her body. No way to escape as the mirror continued to attach itself
to the woman. The coldness was startling, but not as much as being swallowed by
one’s own reflection. She fell out of the mirror on the
other side to land on a polished wooden floor. There she would have liked to
stay, but again her legs moved as if being tugged by puppet strings. Turning to
her left the force stopped her and countered her again when she turned to her
right. “Don’t look back!” the voice
boomed. “If you do you can’t go forward.” “Well, it’s not like you’re
giving me much of an option as to what I get to choose anyway,” she said.
Trying to turn one more time, she found it impossible. A candle ignited spontaneously on
a table, next to it a chalice. She was pulled to the table, unable to tell if
this was by her own choice or not. The flame was beautiful. The tip was pure
white, but where the fire met the wick, golden sparks gave life to colors of
red, blue and green. Suddenly, an air of familiarity washed over her. It was
warm and comfortable. She liked it. “Drink it and you will be once
again," the voice said. The candle tipped to the side, a flow that started
as flame and wax turned into a deep red liquid, filling the chalice. She lifted
the glass, sniffing as she brought it to her lips. “Mmmm… merlot,” she thought
as took a long sip that turned into big swallows. She felt warm and happy. Yes,
this what she liked…
“What the hell are you doing?” a new voice asked. She jumped. The room was
dark, lit only by the light flooding from the open refrigerator. In her hand
was a child’s sippy cup, without the top, filled with ketchup… and evidence
that someone had been drinking out of this cup. That would probably explain the
foreign look her husband had fixed on his face. She glanced over her shoulder.
The glowing green numbers pointed read two thirty-five a.m. Her last thought
was at 11 when she lay down in bed next to him. “Um, hmmm, I don’t… Why are you
sneaking up to scare me!!!” she yelled. “I hate it when you do that!” she
slammed the cup into the sink and shut the refrigerator door. “Honey, relax, I felt you get out
of bed and woke up. You sat at the dining room table for, like, 20 minutes,” he
said with that stupid smile of his. “You crushed the flower in the vase… But
what I’m really curious about is what you were crawling around the floor
looking for?” he laughed and went on. “Honestly, if you’re gonna sleepwalk, can
you at least do something useful. Ya know, like laundry or washing the car,
because otherwise I’m gonna start strapping you to the bed. That could be a
little fun,” he walked up to her, putting his arms around her waist, “ya know
what I mean?” “You’re a jerk,” she said pushing
him out of the way. . © 2013 TammeAuthor's Note
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Added on August 8, 2013 Last Updated on August 8, 2013 AuthorTammePoconos, PAAboutSomething I have learned and you should know: It's not always all about me. I don't take everything so seriously, but don't take me as shallow. more..Writing
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