The White Room

The room was dark and as Alice placed her hand on the pillow beside her, she remembered what she remembered every morning; he was dead. Sitting up she pushed her hair back, the lamp on her bedside table was shattered on the floor next to empty bottles and her medication. As her eyes adjusted she realized that she did not recognize this room.

Where is the door? She thought. A room like a blank canvas, a cell. She was trapped. You’re okay. She told herself as she tried to gain control of her breathing. Her nightgown was soaked with sweat. She ran her finger down each wall, praying her eyes were playing tricks on her, but they weren’t.

She was a bird in a cage. The walls were hard and solid. She could hear her heart beating, and the flickering lights in the room made Alice nauseous. She banged on the walls, “Help! Help me!” She screamed as her palms turned bloody. Her blood was smeared all over the walls. She stepped back and they absorbed it. She turned back to the bed and wished she still had some whiskey left. But the bed was gone, and in its place was an axe wrapped in a bright blue bow with the words Find Me stitched inside.

Alice pulled up her sleeves, grabbed the axe, and swung. She swung with all the grief she had felt, with the rage of being taken and held. She made it through the wall, pulling at the wood until the hole was big enough for her to fit through. She expected to see a crusty old living room or maybe the padded basement of some psycho, but no.

As Alice stepped out of the wall she found herself deep in a forest. The trees were plum-colored with golden leaves. Fireflies and birds buzzed around sharing secrets from high above. Through the branches, she saw gazelles with flowered horns and the scent of lavender and peaches rose from the flowers. Where am I? She walked, guided by the sound of a stream.

“WHO! WHO!” demanded a barn owl.

“And what do you want?” Alice asked in awe. The owl was three times larger than the ones from home and as it spread its wings, glitter trailed behind in the wind. The owl vanished through the forest.

“Wait! Come back!” Alice ran after the owl. She was careful not to trip on the tree roots and the velvety mushrooms. The owl turned into an archway. It was covered in flowers and adorned with pieces of old things; half a vase that belonged to Alice’s mother, the pocket watch Henry was buried with, and a pair of her old ballet shoes. She reached out to touch the watch. It smelled like him. What is this place?

“WHO! WHO!” belted the owl, angry that Alice had stopped following him. She looked back at the watch, then obeyed. Soon she found herself in front of a grand house, Victorian with hundreds of windows and vines scaling its walls.

The owl flew through its open door, it swirled up the staircase then stopped on the fourth floor, perched in the window. Alice walked up to the doors and stopped, she did not know if she should enter. The owl Whoed from inside and then it was answered by a man’s voice. “She’s here?” Boots rushed down the winding staircase and Alice took a step back.

Through the front door flew a man with long raven hair, his eyes were light blue and creased with smile lines. “Alice,” he said, embracing her. She pulled back, convinced she was not seeing him, It can’t be Henry, She thought. But it smelled like him and as she brushed her fingers through his hair she knew.

The owl landed on the stair beside her bowing, “Welcome Alice, to your heaven.”