This story was written by someone close to me and I wanted to share it and its masters and it holds. I hope you enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nikita opened her eyes. She was sitting on a chair in a small white room. She didn't remember how she came to be there or anything at all about her life before that moment. The only thing she knew was her name, Nikita. She spoke the words softly to herself, to confirm the reality of it and satisfied that it was, in fact, her name.
She stood up, looking around, noticing the only feature of the otherwise featureless room, a door.
Opening the door and looking through into another room, much like the one she stood in, but this room contained a small table and chair. She stepped through and approached the table. Upon the table were a glass of milk and a sandwich. She ate the sandwich and drank the milk. They were pleasant, and she felt satisfied. She noticed the door to the previous room was closed, though she was sure she had left it ajar upon entering. She walked over and tried to open the door, but it as locked.
There was, however, another door on the opposite wall. This one opened to another small white room, complete with table, chair, sandwich, and milk. Nikita noticed that the table was an oval shape, whereas the previous table had been square. The sandwich was different, as well. A chicken sandwich compared to the former ham and tomato. It wasn't milk at all, but orange juice. This room also contained a bed. She entered the new room and lay upon the bed for a few moments. Feeling refreshed, she stood and noticed the door to the previous room had once again shut. She did not attempt to open it, knowing that it would be locked. Once again, there was a second door along the opposite wall opening into another identical room.
Nikita's curiosity led her into the new room. A man was sitting on the chair.
"Nikita, baby, where have you been? I've been waiting for you." He embraced her, and she felt she should know this man, but she didn't.
"I'm sorry. I do not remember you," She whispered.
"It's my honey, Charles, your husband." His face was sad.
He seemed nice, she thought. A caring and concerned man, handsome too. But she just didn't know him.
She stayed with him while he explained their life together, how they had met. How much they loved each other. It pleased her to find this man who clearly cared for her so deeply. They ate and drank together: roast duck, potatoes, and green tea. It was delicious, and Charles was happy, so she was pleased too. They lay on the bed, a softer one than the earlier bed. They laughed and even kissed.
Later, when Charles was sleeping, she looked at the doors. The one she knew she could not go back through, and the other; the one she knew would open for her is she wished it.
Careful not to wake him, she slipped off the bed and approached the door. She opened it and looked back at Charles. She walked through into the new room.
"Honey, Nikita, where have you been? We've been waiting for you." Said Charles. But it wasn't Charles, this was a different Charles. Oh, he loved her, he said, he was kind and caring, a good man. But it was not the same Charles.
A child sat playing with a toy train, a boy about three years old. "Mummy, mummy, look, I have a train."
Nikita was mesmerized by this child. My little boy, she thought, how so very beautiful you are. She touched his face and held him. Happiness she could not have imagined settled deep in Nikitas's soul.
Nikita and her family shared a warm meal, and they talked. They talked about their love for each other, and they spoke about their plans for the future. Her son's name was Stevie, and he wanted to be a train conductor when he grew up.
Later, when Charles and Stevie were sleeping, hands touching, Nikita stated at the ceiling. She did not look at the doors. She did not want to look at the doors. At the door. The one taking her to a new place, a different life, subtly different. But a different life nonetheless.
She wanted to stay in this place with Charles and Stevie.
But the door called to her. She ignored it for a long as she could. The door sang of possibilities, but she fought it. What do I care for opportunities when this, this place, is all I want I won't go. I don't' want for anything more.
Still, she slipped off the bed and approached the door.
She looked back at Charles and Stevie. She thought for a moment of the other Charles in the other room. Silent tears fell from her eyes as she opened the door.
Comments (0)
See all