The Room

The room was trembling as she walked in. Tears rolled down the chartreuse wallpaper, landing on the floor with a great splash. She jumped across the large puddles, not wanting to ruin her penny loafers. The ceiling fan hung crookedly from the ceiling, making a sound similar to sobbing as it spun slowly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked the room.

“Everyone left,” it replied.

“I’m here.”

“But I don’t know you.”

She grabbed a dirty towel off the floor and wiped the wet walls in small, circular motions. “Shh, it’s OK,” she said, pressing her cheek against the wall. “I’ll never leave you.”

“I don’t believe you, but what else is there?” it said.

The trembling ceased and the fan stopped spinning. The tears continued to run, but eventually they might stop.

Home

I love our little home. Renewed the lease yesterday and it feels comforting; I wasn't ready to let go. I'll know when it's time. There are still things to accomplish here.

Hooting and Howling

Thomas Brimm Meets the Dead

The dissolving bath bubbles resembled faces. The faces of the dead, the boy thought. But who were they and what did they want with him? He was only eight, after all. He poked one of the faces right on the nose, and it disintegrated. There was a faint howl of pain. The boy stuck his ear in the water and jumped up almost immediately after, hearing small voices whispering "help." He pounded his fists into the water, into the face of each dead person. Water splashed everywhere, hitting the walls, the tiled floor, and even the ceiling. "I can't help you!" he screamed.