Room of Another

This is my story, "Room of Another", which originally appeared in the April 2009 issue of Static Movement:

Room of Another

I awoke strangely deranged, in the room where I had been sleeping, with the pinpricking refrain of confusion on my brain. Deluded and diluted, still, by the coruscating dreams that had been mine until the waking rang the till, the teller in me felt concretely that these environs were out of place with the expectations of my vulnerable grace, granted with the snooze I purchased. The gauze that fogged my mental cogs would not be shaken off, and, disturbed, I knew this place, in which I had been before, would not become familiar. Without intent, it menaced me. The dull glaze of matte paint tried desperately to hide the barren boards that lurked inside. The flicker of a dying bulb perched on the end of a chipped ceramic copper top lamp with moulting velvet shade made a tweaking sound with the light's up and down which poignantly found the nooks and hollows of these surroundings. The outlets sat without coverings, and the drawers of the chest were left open, just a bit, as if to let the beating of what was in it to have the space to poke its head out. The rugs lay in disorder, and even the spider webs in the corner were abandoned. I looked at the wood that stared out through the cracks in the paint, and I knew that these were not my walls, this was not my room.

Looking to escape from this seemingly ever-enclosed space, I alighted on the window sill with the promise of a morning bright. Out through the glass I gazed to find it still to be night. Without a tree or house in sight, I began to think this a peculiar blight. The landscape I had seen the day before was teeming with objects all over. I thought to myself that the twinkling of the stars seemed more piercing than I had ever noticed before. Suddenly, I looked down and saw, instead of ground, more stars-- above, below, and all around. I recognised then that the shapes were all wrong; there was no great bear, shiny dog, or horse with man's torso. The violent new forms that illumined this waste, moved with such haste they were impossible to trace. As the chamber moved on and the suns hurtled by, I began to realise that these were not my stars, this was not my sky.

I next noticed, rolling in from the east, a planet that was not a little like Earth, in the least. It seemed that my cabin was turning towards it; I wondered would I crash or become a satellite. The prospect of being bound to this room struck me with dismay, disgust, and disdain. I could not bear long the placid colours, somber sheets, and tarnished brass which gave with their good sense the feeling of something lurking that was less than this warm pretense. My fears of such an occurrence were quickly dashed against the turrets, for I was already bearing down towards the planet's surface. As I saw the horizon's curve close in and disappear, my vision filled suddenly with continents and oceans, I realised, too late, that this may be the day of fate. I struggled, in vain, panic stricken with the fear of pain, to make my way away from the grip that made me stay. I turned and tried to move, without a thought of the futility, over the chairs, desk, and dresser that were closing in around me. I tried, just as they were about to cream me to the wall, to leap above them, but I did nothing but fall unconscious. During the last moments of my cogitation, I prayed that this was not my moment, not my everlasting cremation.

I came around, somehow, to the tune of birds singing, heaped on the detritus which had been the contents of the room rejected by the sky. With amazement I realised that the room was intact and, more so did it strike me, so was I. A deep distrust arose within me of a room that could have taken such a tumble without any damage at all. I surveyed the wreckage that was piled all about and marvelled that somehow I had made it out alive and well. Then I hearkened to the melodies that came floating through the window on the cool breeze. I suddenly felt the urge to explore this foreign world, and I looked towards the door. The threatening gloom of that dour room struck me once more, and I saw in the mirror that adorned that door the terror that my face wore. I would not, could not exit that way; I looked about for some other porthole to take. My eyes hung on the window. I stood motionless, still. I looked to the door quickly, then dashed through the glass with the sense that something would try to not let me pass, but I made it quite safe on to the grass. I was secretly thankful that that was not my abode, not the home of my own.

I stood up and brushed the dust off my pants, then looked about to take in these strange lands. Yet, not so strange were they, in fact; the terrain was much as our native soil. There was a shimmering blue sea daunting the eye with its continuity and taunting the ears with its lap-lapping incessantly. Into that sea flowed a babbling brook, winding so snake-like it hissed as it went. The banks of that brook were bordered with willows which the wind shook, and those shaking willows danced a dance no one knows which swallowed and gobbled the light up in its shadows. There were the dandelions and lilies which crowded the fields in tightly knit gangs which seemed to threaten the warning not to step on the flowers. The clouds in the sky were buffed up big and white, taking the shapes of things that aren't right. And finally, down at my feet, the grass shimmered in the light, an army of swords thousands strong. But the most disconcerting thing that I saw was the sun, so bright that it put me in a daze, reaching its rays into every part of life's maze. It was then the horror took me that this was not my place, this was not my world.

All through the trees and the air, the sea and the brook meandered creatures of all sizes, from fishes and birds to mammals and bugs. I recognised every species and felt suddenly suspicious. It was strange, in the first, that my room should just burst into space and make its way who knows where, but that I should arrive on a planet so much like mine, just by chance, was too improbable to take for granted. The coincidence that another world should be populated with the same kind of antelopes, magpies, and bees was beyond the possibility of belief. I thought that this must be artificial: some holograms, perhaps, or a terraforming project, maybe it was all just a dimensional vortex. My knowledge of modern science was flimsy at best, but it seemed to me that something like this would be some sort of controlled test. As those beasts milled around like the thoughts in my head, I grew more restless and uneasy. I turned back towards my vessel, that room I despised, thinking it might be good to seek shelter for the night, but the room was now gone. It had disappeared from the spot it had sat; I lost all hope, and realised that this was not my realm, these were not my rules.

Everything, all at once, came alive chaotically. A group of trees were bulldozed over, and a giant machine emerged, with blades whirring it sucked everything in to its flaming stomach furnace. The birds flew off cawing. The fish hopped in agitation. The deer ran off, and I stood still. The machine moved past and its great noise grew, then diminished until a deep dreadful silence, broken only by water purring, came over the clearing where nothing was now stirring. I felt so relieved that the monster had passed, but then I looked to my left and saw a hungry bear come down the strife-torn path. It eyed me and ran forward with a growling barking roar; I did nothing but think that this was not my death, and that was not my life.