The Room

            I am in a room. A small room, just tall enough to stand up, and just wide enough to lie down. There is nothing in the room. Just me. The walls, floor, ceiling are all blank. There are no windows, but there is a door. One door. And it is slightly ajar. I don’t remember when it opened. I just found it like that one day. Through the crack I can see blue, sometimes white, and always black around the time I go to sleep. In front of this I can see something tall and gangly, with little fingers that protrude in every which way. Sometimes the fingers are bare, but other times they grow little green and yellow objects, which are thin and fragile and on many days can be seen pulling away from the fingers.  These little objects grow bigger and greener over the days, and then turn orange and brown and finally manage to detach themselves, leaving the fingers bare once more.

            I have observed this cycle many times. I long to know more about it, to see the full object from top to bottom, to be near it, even touch it. But I don’t dare leave the room because of the sound. It is a terrible sound. A loud and ominous hum. Sometimes getting closer, sometimes farther away, but always present. Sometimes when the colors through the door turn black, the hum will almost go away, and on several occasions I have come close to opening the door. But always as I near it, I hear the hum again, and promptly change my mind.

            Today I have decided to make a decision. The view through the door is mostly blue, the gangly fingers nearly invisible through all the little green objects hanging off it. I am going to do it. I am going to go through the door.

            I get right up next to the door to see a little more. Air hits my face, and with it, the hum. It isn’t too bad today. I think I could support it, whatever it is. I was not afraid of the sound itself, but rather, whatever was making the sound. There was no way of knowing for sure where it was coming from, and that thought terrified me. I reached out to touch the doorknob, but the hum grew louder. I recoiled. Still it grew louder. I took two steps backward, but still the sound seemed to come toward me.

Then it hit me. I eyed the gangly, green-covered object outside. What if this object, the sight that tempted me outside my room, was the same source of the humming and my subsequent fear to leave? I pondered this idea. Either the sight proved the sound harmless or the sound proved the sight a trap. The hum grew louder. What could I do?

            I stepped forward towards the door. The hum was louder than ever. I grasped the doorknob firmly. The thin green objects outside began to sway. The hum rang in my ears. I squeezed the knob and shut the door.