White Room

A white wall stares back at me.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I don’t know how long I’ve been lying here.

“Hello?” I call out.

My words splatter on the walls and melt onto the floor. The sound of the clock ticking vibrates the hairs in my ears. My heartbeat pulses through my skin. A familiar sensation comes over me, but I can’t put to words what I feel. It’s like I’ve been here at this exact moment before, lying on a bed, staring at the wall, at exactly 3:47.

Deja vu.

But I’m not on my bed and this isn’t my room. Nothing looks familiar. There’s nothing around me but white walls, a clock on the wall, and this bed. I don’t know where I am, and I don’t know how I got here. I have to get up. I head towards the door, but when I reach the door, it’s locked.

“Hello?” I call out a little louder this time, looking from side to side. “Is anyone there?”

I try not to panic.

I think back to my last memory. I see two bright headlights shining in my face. I hear a lot of noise: destruction, chaos, screaming, sirens. Then, silence. Everything turns dark. Somehow, after that, I ended up here, in this white room.

I think back to my life. A name? A face? My family? I can’t remember anything. I don’t know who I am. I don’t even remember if I’m a man or woman. A shiver travels down my spine. My head feels dizzy.

I look down at my body. I’m wearing a white gown. I feel my head for hair, but I’m completely bald. I look around the room for any clues, but the room is spotless. The bed has white sheets over it. A black and white clock hangs on the wall, and the walls are immaculately white. Not a single stain to be seen in sight.

Fear starts to kick in. There are too many unknowns in this equation. What’s going on? Who put me here? And why can’t I remember anything? I ask these questions, as if expecting someone to pop their head in and answer them, but nothing but the ticking of the clock can be heard.

I look at the clock again. 3:47. How is that possible? How can it still be the same time as I last checked?

I close my eyes. This must be a dream. Breathe, I tell myself, but, to my dismay, I realize that I haven’t been breathing at all. I place my hand on my chest. I don’t feel any movement. I place a finger underneath my nose. Nothing. I try to consciously breathe, but nothing changes. Have I just been existing here this whole time without breathing?

Am I dead?

Before I can even begin to ponder that thought, a muffled sound catches my attention. It’s not localized in one area, but rather, the sound is coming from all around the outside of the walls. I walk back and forth trying to hear the source of the sound. It’s a song. A beautiful melody. I’ve never heard anything like it before.

I listen intently. It’s a woman’s voice. Soft and soothing, but with deep tones. I close my eyes. I see a bull.

A single black bull walks through grassy meadows. The ground shakes with each step he takes. It’s quiet. Serene. I can tell it’s still early in the morning because of the dew on the grass. The early morning sun peaks through the horizon. A feeling of warmth soothes me. I feel each step the bull takes as if I’m taking it too. It’s as if I’m there, with the bull, drinking in each ray of sunshine in the cool Spring morning.

The birth of a new season.

Something catches the bull’s eye because he looks up and freezes. It must not be in my line of sight because I can’t see anything. Then, the bull walks off into the distance.

I feel a tinge of sadness. My only friend has left me. Yet again, I’m alone. The song has ended, and the clock’s ticking regains my attention.

3:47.

It must be broken. Why is it still ticking? I try to take the clock down, but I can’t. It’s stuck to the wall. I start to get frustrated. I go through the room, trying to find something, anything, that could give me a clue about what’s going on. I remove the blanket and throw it onto the floor. I strip the bed sheets and reveal a plain, boring, simple mattress.

“Let me out of here!” I scream.

I run to the door, pounding with all my might.

“Let me out! Let me out!”

I pound and kick and scream, until I’m so exhausted that I can’t help but collapse onto the floor. I lie on the floor and look up at the ceiling. Nothingness.

I close my eyes. Nothing. My imagination doesn’t even humour me with the bull.

I don’t know how much time has passed, but a rumbling sound brings me back.

I can feel the vibration through the walls. It must be an earthquake. I brace onto the bed frame for support. The drywall begins to crumble before my eyes. The stupid clock even falls off the wall.

Then the shaking stops. The door bursts open.

I quickly scramble up and take a look through the door. It’s like a black hole. I feel a strong pull towards the blackness, but at the same time, I don’t know what’s there. Is it safe? I look back at the white room I have grown oddly comfortable with. Am I willing to leave this behind?

While I had no idea what I was doing here, this room oddly provided me with a sense of security and assurance. I never felt like anyone was going to hurt me. While it was filled with unknowns, at least it had some known factors, like a bed I could find comfort in, the beautiful song, and even that damn ticking clock, which although extremely annoying, at least gave me a sense of reality to hold onto.

I stood there, paralyzed, looking down into the blackness. But as I stood there, the white walls around me started to crumble before my eyes. The once pristine walls, shattered into a million pieces, pixelating into blackness. The floor began to cave in. The bed I once found refuge in fell into the pit of black.

I looked back at the door.

I don’t think I have a choice. I jump through the door.

---

“Time of birth: 3:47AM” A nurse calls out.

A baby’s wails fill the hospital room. A nurse hands the baby to the mother. Tears fill the mother’s eyes.

A baby boy.