WhiteSpace_07

Staircase

Staircase By Samuel de Koning 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16. He had counted them a million times, but it gave him comfort to count every morning nonetheless. Every time he got to 16 he would let out a deep breath of air almost as if he was glad nothing ever changed. Change was something he was scared of. If his world changed would it be for better or for worse? Six months, a year, two years, he didn’t know how long he had been there but he was sure it was more than a few months. Just sitting around, up and down, down and up. Time was irrelevant, the sun he used to see every morning was now gone, he would sleep when he was tired and get up when he wasn’t. He had a vague guess of when “night” and “day” were supposed to take place even though the entire world was all the same boring light grey. It’s funny how people take the simplest things for granted, the sun, the taste of food, the voice of another human, even color itself. He was neither hungry nor full, yet he would probably eat just about anything because it would remind him a little of the life he once knew A voice, that’s what he wanted, just one word. He would give anything to her his mum call his name. Even though he couldn’t remember what she sounded like he knew she had a beautiful voice. A single world from another human would make this grey world light up into a billion different colors. He never talked. He used to, but not anymore.