The Third Floor Bedroom

It all began when someone left the window open, the once placid white curtains falling in a cascade as the barren light of the sun, crept into dance upon the bare third floor bedroom. Colorless eyes themselves danced about the room in search of the one that laid the window to arms. Still, looking about the room, I found not a single soul to be held responsible for its actions. No one was home besides myself and I didn’t remember opening the empty room window.

I hate that room with its white doves pinned to the canvas of the wall. Really, what were the designers of the house thinking when they tacked that ugly wallpaper up to cover a perfectly fine white wall!?! The hair on the back of my neck suddenly stood with conviction as a chill ran the length of my spine, even though the day was hot.
Shaking it off I pushed myself forward, towards the open window and the white radiator below the freshly painted windowsill. Placing myself between the old paint chipped dresser that the last owner had left for reasons unexplained, I pulled at the window, the frame falling to meet the sill with a loud bang; that caused me to jump. With a sigh, I began to remove myself as quickly as possible from the room with its white doves.
Turning my back to the untainted glass, my eyes came in contact with a closed off white heavily stained door.

I seemed unable to move, frozen to the spot; fear coursing through the very veins that dark liquid ran, seeping to drip into the vessels of the heart, my pulse beating under an old rhythm that I knew well.

Fear.

On some heightened sense I liked the adrenaline rush that fear gave you, but on this ordinary plain of reality I didn’t embrace it.
“C’mon girl, the doors closed so what!” I told myself.
Yeah, so the door’s closed, I more then likely closed it when I came in here!
But then again, why would I close the door to a room I hate being it, a room with its white doves that send chills running my spine. No…I hadn’t closed the door, in fact I had purposely pushed it open to the colored wall so the naked hallway of the house was exposed. Abruptly a thought came to mind.
Why didn’t I hear the door close?
“Why didn’t I hear the door close?”
As I tried to figure out the reason as to why I hadn’t heard the door close, the sound of
rustling behind me drew my attention away from the main factor. Looking back to the heavy wall, my eyes opened in horror. Was I seeing things or was one of the doves peeling away from the wallpaper it was painted upon. A horror beyond recognition seared through me, causing my heart to beat harder, feeling as though it would rip from my chest. I watched as one of many doves began to peel away from the wall, the first one looking as real as any dove seen. Suddenly a second one began to peel from the paper and a third, fourth. Soon the room was filled with horrid white doves flying in every direction.
Screaming out I swung my arms around, trying to block out and swat away the birds that dove at me and seemed to wish death upon me. Stumbling my way to the now still window, I once again pushed myself between the dresser and the widow its self. Hurriedly, my hands now covered in my own blood and that of the birds I pulled at the window, yanking it open to the empty afternoon sky. Covering my face with my arms I sunk down the now dove less wall with its green vines to meet the sun warmed hard wooden floor of the third floor bedroom. Still the birds swarmed about the room flying and diving at me with anger and rage. “Stop it!!” I screamed.

“STOP!”

Unexpectedly silence besieged my senses; no cries of pain or hatred for me from the white-feathered birds erupted and that so, caused me to open my eyes to find an empty darkly light room. Looking about the room, I felt the warmth of my comforter upon me and I sat up to realize that I slept in my bed.
“It was…just a dream.” I replied aloud, abruptly the sound of wild flapping echoed in the room, and time itself seemed to slow down, my eyes rolling in their sockets to watch as a dove of white colorless eyes raised and dropped its wings continuously to fly out the open glass of the broken window above the white radiator of the third floor bedroom.